Chapter Eleven
Ozpin was tired. The heat of summer just stole all the energy from him. At Oscar's quiet insistence, they had closed early again and even under an umbrella, he felt like he could fill a bucket with all his sweat. Oscar was feeling the heat as well, and they both complained about it like almost everyone did in the summer months, but Oscar had the blessings of being raised in this climate. Back in Vale, Ozpin would often retreat to the forests during the summer to escape the heat.
At the apartment building, Ozpin sat on the rail of the stoop. He just did not want to try and climb the stairs. The stairwell would be an oven and he'd just left an oven. So he kept his umbrella up and hoped to muster the strength in a few minutes.
"Do you want me to help you?" Oscar asked softly.
Oh he loved this child.
"No, Oscar. Go tend to the gardens. I'll just cool off and then head in. It's only one flight of stairs."
"You sure?"
"Go on."
Oscar nodded and headed in with the umbrella.
Upon reflection, Ozpin realized the hallway might be cooler, but at this point, that was going to require effort just to get up. For now, this part of the building was in shade, and Ozpin just sat there, leg out, fighting to not slouch and let his shirt at the small of his back start sticking. Every so often, a soft breeze passed by and Ozpin could almost cool off.
"Hey Oz."
Ozpin opened his eyes, unaware they'd even closed, and looked up to see Qrow smiling at him.
"Oh. Qrow. Good afternoon."
"More like hot afternoon. You trying to hide from the heat?"
Ozpin gave a wan smile, pulling out a handkerchief to fan himself and then wipe some sweat off his face.
"You need a better fan than that."
"Alas, walking around with a cane, my free hand usually has an umbrella against the sun. That leaves no free hands for a fan." Granted, there was one upstairs in the apartment that would be perfect about now, but again, that required more effort than he had at the moment.
Qrow laughed softly and sat down next to Ozpin, swinging a leg to the other side of the railing. "Good thing I have a fan. Come here."
"Here?" Ozpin asked tiredly.
But Qrow pulled him close, leaning him against his chest.
"Qrow?"
And then he whipped out a fan and started fanning them.
"Aaaaaaahhhh," Ozpin let out a relieved sigh. It didn't even matter that Qrow was against his back and that he'd lost all his posture. That faint, man made breeze was just pure bliss.
"Oscar got you to leave early today?"
"Mn-hmm," Ozpin's eyes fluttered close and he just let himself be with the breeze.
"You gonna take a nap? Because if so, I won't be able to work for the rest of the day."
Ozpin didn't really hear him, just relaxed with the breeze and let out a contented sigh.
Behind him was a soft chuckle, then a strong arm wrapped around him.
He just let himself be.
Finally, after an indeterminate time, Ozpin opened his eyes and sat up, correcting his posture and his back reminding him he wasn't getting any younger and that he couldn't do silly things like this that often anymore. "Thank you," he said. He pulled out his pocketwatch from his unbuttoned waistcoat. "Oh, have I been sitting here for over an hour?"
Qrow shrugged. "You clearly needed the time."
"But I've kept you from your crows," Ozpin replied. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to eat up your time."
"Eh, think nothing of it. Honestly, I needed a break as well."
Ozpin gave a soft, warm smile. He needed to make this up to Qrow somehow. Hmmmm.
"Ah, Professor! I didn't know you lived here!"
Blinking, Ozpin turned. "Ah, Mr. Armin, was it?" He stood, buttoning up his waistcoat to something more presentable.
Indeed, Marrow Armin was atop a carriage, wearing a Mistralan military uniform. He set the reins aside and hopped down. "I didn't realize we'd be picking you up today."
Ozpin frowned, feeling something decidedly cold slide down his spine. "Pick up?"
But Mr. Armin was opening the door to the carriage. Out stepped a man in white Atlesian military garb, though no designation of rank was displayed, pulling his cap off and tucking it under an arm.
Against his will, Ozpin stiffened. "James," he greeted cooly. Behind him, he could feel Qrow come to his back, but Ozpin couldn't afford to pay attention to that.
"Ozpin," James greeted warmly, clean shaven and immaculate as he often was. Black hair slicked back, though his temples were going gray, unlike the last time Ozpin saw him.
A power move, Ozpin thought. Coming here, to his home. "I see you've ignored my replies."
James gave an amused, warm chuckle. "Don't be like that, we haven't spoken in years."
"Since I could finally walk away from you, as I recall."
"This guy bothering you?" Qrow growled.
"Just someone I once knew," Ozpin replied, turning. It was time to head in and ignore James.
"Ozpin, don't be like that," James said. "I just want to talk. I promise to be brief, I know how this weather affects you."
"And should I refuse?"
James shrugged. "I just thought you'd want to catch up with some of the others. They haven't seen you in years. Decades."
Who was James talking about… "Others?"
And James gave that warm, victorious smile. "I've arranged a meeting with several prominent soothsayers."
Ozpin locked his jaw, his lips thinning.
"Oz?"
He only had a split second to think what to do, and Oscar was up in the gardens and Ozpin would not let James know of Oscar. Let Oscar be a simple apprentice, don't let James know that Oscar was his son. Don't let James think that he'd made any friends or connections since the fever.
It was likely a stupid decision.
But it was made in a split second.
Ozpin turned to Qrow, keeping his back to James. "Mr. Branwen, could you send a crow to my apprentice?" Ozpin pulled out some lien.
"Oz, you don't have to-"
Ozpin leaned forward. "Tell Oscar I'll probably be late for dinner." Stepping back he put on a smile. "I believe that should cover the message fee."
Qrow scowled miserably, glaring daggers at James. "Sure thing, Professor," he grumbled.
Ozpin started to work his way down the five steps, but James saw this. "Armin," he ordered. And before Ozpin could even protest, the young man had rushed up to put an arm around Ozpin's shoulders for support to help him down the steps.
Really, one wondered if lips could bleed just from pressing them together tightly enough.
Then, despite Ozpin's height that tended to tower over everyone, Armin grabbed Ozpin's waist and almost lifted him into the carriage with James.
In the carriage, Ozpin sat up straight, and despite the heat, rolled down his sleeves to rebutton them. "Shall I ask where we are headed?" he asked stiffly.
"Just up the mountain," James replied. "The Emperor has called in the Table of Generals to advise him on the Valean army that's invading."
This whole outing would be pointless and frustrating then. Ozpin closed his mouth and just looked out the window.
The carriage ride was over an hour, going through each of the boroughs further and further up the mountain towards the palace. Once they got to the Imperial borough, James leaned forward apologetically. "Discretion," he said, closing the curtains.
Ozpin wiped the sweat from his face again, wishing he'd had a chance to get to his apartment and wash up. He itched from all the sweat.
Eventually they came to a halt. Mr. Armin opened the door and James stepped out.
Ozpin glared, but he eased his way to the door. Unfortunately, a look from James had Mr. Armin grab him by the waist again to help him out.
He took a deep breath and exhaled. Slowly.
The stables were massive, a dozen stalls on each side and stablemasters moving about at the far end of the building. Two carriages, one attached to horses, were in the double wide center aisle before riding off. A quick glance around the stables, and Ozpin sighed. He was here now. Oscar was safe. That was what mattered.
"This way," James said, putting his cap back on. "They really will be pleased to see you." The Atlesean set off at a brisk pace and Ozpin, stiff after all the time in the carriage, was hard pressed to catch up. They left the stables and crossed a massive courtyard, filled with nobles and dignitaries and stewards going about their business. The courtyard was a square, the words for serenity, honor, balance, and peace being great reliefs over each gate of the space. The people wore fine silks in the summer heat to keep cool, fans in everyone's hands as they talked shop or carried missives or moved across the space. More than a few saw Ozpin in his plain, sweaty linen waistcoat and pointed at the poor foreigner. He tuned them out quickly after that, but James threw a dark glare before the murmured questioning ceased.
"They didn't know who you were," he said, turning slightly and pausing to let Ozpin catch up. "That surprised me. I thought you would be soothsaying for the Imperial Court."
"I've had my fill of nobles, well-intentioned or otherwise, asking me how to advance their position," Ozpin replied. "I've told you this before, so I fail to see how it would surprise you."
"Oz," James said lightly, shaking his head with a smile. "You have to stop being so humble. Talent like yours is always recognized, you should have more faith in yourself." He turned and started marching again.
Across the Imperial Courtyard, through the gate of peace - oh, irony - was the stepped roofline of the emperor's castle. The general did not go through the main, obvious gateway but traced around the building to a less pompous side entrance, Ozpin still working to keep pace with his bad leg. There was no grand hallway beyond, the proportions were once more average instead of grand, clearly a staff wing of the castle.
"Since the Emperor called us in," James said with a warm pride, "I knew that soothsayers would be the key. I brought in some sayers from Atlas and I've asked for sayers from Mistral to volunteer. Quite a few came."
Oh, no doubt. A steady paycheck when faced with the dying respect of the profession?
"I've explained this to you before, James," Ozpin said stiffly. "You can't read a war. Too many individuals are making decisions that go against what they would normally do. Vast swaths of people in the middle of a paradigm shift? All effecting everybody else's paradigm shifts? That's the realm of the Brothers. There is no way to put a country or a war on the other side of the sand reader."
"I remember," James said, his eyes flat and his tone bleak. "You were quite firm in saying so. But I'm not putting a war or a country down at a sand reader."
Ozpin kept his mouth shut, since it was clear James wanted him to ask the next logical question.
Instead, they came to a set of ornate double doors, encrusted in jewels and rare metals. James gave a mischievous smile, and opened the doors.
"Master Ozma?"
"Master Ozma!"
"Is that you, Master Ozma?"
"Ozpin, you brat, you've gotten older!"
"You're really here!"
In front of him were soothsayers. Soothsayers of deeper magic than the usual village sayer. Soothsayer's he'd trained.
Ozpin's stomach dropped.
"Fria, Amber, Vernal… what are you all doing here?"
His greatest apprentices before he'd started teaching Oscar. Others he'd taken on over the years. Reaching as far back as his days in Beacon with Fria, his first apprentice. Others he didn't recognize. They were gathered around a large, round table - an Atlesean table, another power move - sitting at various chairs as if ready for a meeting. But now they stood in excitement, others standing and looking on curiously, obviously having heard of Ozpin from his former students, who now rushed to him.
They hugged him, and it was all so filled with joy, but Ozpin could only feel anguish. He loved his apprentices, he was proud of how far they went whenever he heard of them after they got their license. This was supposed to be good to see them again, but it all bore the taint of James looming over all of them.
He hugged them close, because how could he not?
Fria, unsurprisingly, was the first to be clearly heard. "Ozpin, you brat, you have to meet my apprentices. Come and sit down, I know how you get in this heat. There, much better; I've got a few graduates of mine here, but I've got a new one you'd love to take apart in your essays. Winter, dearie, come here!"
Winter Schnee. Oh, it suddenly made even more sense why she'd come by for a reading of her sister.
Amber pushed forward, putting a hand on Fria with a warm but level gaze. "Save the apprentices for later," she said with a rasp.
Ozpin's eyes watered.
Amber's face was scared hideously. Oh, what had happened to her? He stood, reached out involuntarily, before stopping his hand by her face. She only smiled sadly, taking his frozen hand and giving him warmth, guiding him to sit back down. The others followed, all of them spreading out across the round table, easily two dozen sayers at a glance. James took a seat directly across from him, smiling, warm and gentle as if he had not just manipulated all of this to get a reaction out of Ozpin. He ignored the general in favor of the sayers.
"What are you all doing here?" he couldn't help but ask again.
"Ending the war," Vernal said from her seat. "It clouds the sands. Our profession is already getting shaky, and our accuracy is decreasing by the day because of this beast, we need to do something to stop it. It's the only way we'll be restored to respectability."
Ozpin's lips thinned.
"Oh, enough war talk," Fria said. "Ozpin, have some tea with us. We need a break from our apprentices. Honestly, however did you put up with us?"
"Essays," he said flatly, refusing to move. "You can't do this. You can't read a war. That's the Brother's realm. You're too close to soothmaking."
"That won't be a problem," James said across from him, looking pleased with himself. "I've thought about what you said, Oz. You're right. We can't put a war or a country at a sand table for a reading. Every soothsayer here has told me that, and I'm not about to try. But," he said, leaning forward and lacing his hands together, "we can put officers there."
Ozpin kept his face bland even as he just could not believe what he was hearing.
"We started with commanding officers," James said, slowly standing up and moving around the table. "But you were correct. You can't put a war on the other side of the table. Commanding officers are too high up the chain of command, they're too removed from the fight for a soothsayer to be able to read anything. But the lower ranked officers… The captains, the lieutenants. We can put them across the sand reader, and they can be read."
He gripped his cane tighter.
"You would put soothsayers on the front lines," he said, aghast, "People who did not sign up for war, who are not trained for the battlefield, and put them at risk? Enlisted men I can understand James, but sayers? There are already so few of us in the last twenty years, less now that we are branded charlatans and scam artists, and you would put us in front of muskets and cannon?"
"Of course not," James dismissed, disgusted at the thought. "Oz, you think that everyone in Remnant hates soothsayers; they don't. A lot of us still believe in the old ways, and we respect the fortunes you tell."
Ozpin's gaze swept over the table at the incorrect language, Fria was rolling her eyes and shaking her head with an amused grin; Vernal stoic as always, Amber gazing steadily at the table. He knew, in that moment, that everyone there understood they were working for a man who didn't completely understand them as he claimed. How were they still here? Amber's lowered eyes also, he realized, told him something different.
"How many have you lost?" he asked, cutting across James' dismissal.
The general gave him a level look, eyes darkening. He did not answer.
Amber did. "Four," she said, eyes never lifting from the table, a hand reaching up and tracing the scars on her face. "They were with me…"
James intervened, having moved to Amber's chair, and put a soft hand on her shoulder, his cool expression melting to something sad. "Amber was on the field, safe and well behind the front lines, reading all the squad leaders of a company," he said, pained. "Unfortunately, their position was attacked."
Ozpin looked to Amber, but she looked away, hiding her scared face.
"Your apprentices?" he asked as softly as he could manage, heart bleeding.
Her silence was answer enough. Everyone looked down, the loss touching each of them, and Ozpin sat alternating between white hot rage and unbearable pain.
"So now we do readings here before we deploy," James continued after the pause, visibly putting himself back together. "We've had some success, but not enough." James moved back to his seat, standing by it and looking across the way to Ozpin, smiling gently like back when Ozpin considered him a friend. "You're the greatest soothsayer in the world. You single handedly discovered six new patterns never before seen. Who better, to help end this war, than you?"
"No," Ozpin said firmly, standing and refusing to be talked down to. "I will not." Readings didn't work like that. If they really were having the success James was claiming, then Vale wouldn't be in Mistral gaining mille after mille, kille after kille of ground. It was a lie. A manipulation. Oh, Amber, and her poor apprentices. "I am Valean, and I have lived here in Mistral for half my life. I will help neither of the two countries I've called home win, because doing so would mean my other home would fall. Moreover, I will not abide by someone who would risk the lives of soothsayers to gain tactical advantage, who thought our profession was little more than fortune telling to predict victory. You cannot ask if a strategy will work, get a no, and then change your strategy and ask again. You are trying to use soothsayers to make an outcome you wish instead of listening to the truth you are being told. You are arrogant enough to think you can make the sands do what you want. You tread on the realm of the gods, James. You are trying to be a soothmaker. And such a curse only brings horror and misfortune. And the price is paid by everyone."
He turned to his former apprentices. "I've told all of you the tale of the village that tried to force a better crop. Wiped off the map with a terrible storm, as well as several other villages that weren't even involved. There are consequences no matter how innocently you try to do this. I don't need my reader to know that you will all suffer for this. And far more than Amber has."
Anger made his blood boil, and he did not notice the hum that was slowly building inside him. Unwilling, his magic flared and Ozpin knew with dead certainty that four of his apprentices would die.
No… my students... What little energy he had built up immediately left him, and he felt light-headed, vision briefly blacking around the edges.
"I will not," he said, voice shaky. "I will not participate in such a curse."
"Ozpin..." James said, next to him now and putting a hand on his shoulder.
Ozpin jerked his shoulder away and stepped back. "No. I gave you my answer when I awoke from the fever. I gave you my answer repeatedly as I relearned how to walk. That answer hasn't changed in six years. Instead, my conviction has only gotten stronger." He took a deep breath. "I'm disappointed in you, General."
Ironwood's eyes widened at the title, before flattening to hard determination. "It's the only way," he insisted.
"It will be your undoing, and I want no part in it. I wish to be taken home."
"Ozpin…"
"Home, General. I wish to be home. I'd advise you to go home as well, but you won't heed that advice." And then he turned, sweeping his eyes over the round table, giving them all the love he felt for his compatriots with his gaze, and left. He found his way back to the stable, and Mr. Armin was still there, brushing down the horses.
"Hey, Professor," he said brightly. "Thanks for your advice. You're right, I've found life-long friends here."
Ozpin took a moment to heave a very silent sigh. "I'm glad for you," he said, and sincerely. People working to be their best was always a good thing, no matter where it led them. "I am heading home now."
"Really?" Mr. Armin blinked. "Ah, okay. Um, let me get a carriage."
Ozpin held up a hand. "I can still ride, even like this. We need only saddle a horse, if you don't mind bringing it back."
"Sure. Let me get a pikeman saddle. That way you have a spot for your cane…"
Ozpin took a deep breath and just let the hurt wash over him. Once the horses were settled, he mounted awkwardly and prepared to ride home during the hottest part of the day without an umbrella against the sun.
"Oscar!"
He looked up from the rain barrel, in the middle of cleaning out the watering cans as Qrow just about burst onto the roof. He grabbed Oscar's shoulder with no sensitivity, jolting him up to his feet and to the roofline.
"Look there, see the carriage?"
Oscar looked, surprised, to see something so expensive in this part of town. Carts, wagons, rickshaws, yes, but a full carriage? "Does the doctor have a rich patient?" he asked, frowning as he looked down. The carriage was pulling away, moving up the hill and turning, out of sight.
"Oz just went into that carriage," Qrow said, voice dark.
"Wait, what?" He turned to the new crowmaster, saw a furious face and clenched jaw.
"Driver was a soldier, some Atlas hack stepped out and wanted to talk to the professor, and Oz made a point of telling me to get word to his 'apprentice' that he'd be late for dinner."
Oscar frowned; his guardian only ever called Oscar his apprentice at work. So this had to do with soothsaying…? But this was the military, and Ozpin was always so adamant about not reading the war… Anxiety started to build up as he tried to work through the possibilities. Ozpin would refuse to read the war - he was too principled to do otherwise, but what would the consequences be? Would he be arrested, thrown in jail? Held against his will and forced to say the war? Would he come home…?
He started to shake, energy flooding his muscles and he was unable to burn through it quickly enough. He looked to Qrow. "Will he come back?" he asked.
"... He didn't say," Qrow answered, pulling out his flask, glaring at it before putting it away. "Come on. We gotta tell Maria."
Nana Calavera was, of course, irate.
"I swear to the brothers I am going to yell at that old man for three hours for the trouble he causes!" she growled. "And the general! Trying to soothsay the war as if that's even possible! Anyone can tell you the only thing war is good for is death, what does he expect a sayer to tell him? How many times does he have to be told no before he takes a hint?"
"The general, whoever he is, he's been trying for a long time," Oscar said, sitting with Calavera at the back of the hall where it was almost cool. "He would send an operative to try and pick up Ozpin for an appointment. One time he sent someone with her sister to have a reading - Oz pulled me into the reading so she wouldn't talk to me."
"He told me he wondered if that bastard would take him from his own apartment," Calavera said, and Oscar didn't realize the military had worried Ozpin that much. "And now look what's happened!"
Qrow said very little, but his face got darker and darker as the three of them waited at the end of the hall. Oscar watched the sun set, twitching with nerves, and once it was dark he couldn't stand it; he moved down the hall and outside to the lingering heat, sitting on the front steps and eyes fixed on the far end of the street, where he had seen the carriage turn. He worried his hands, still in his gardening gloves, and filled with a tension in his body that wouldn't keep him still. The other tenants slowly came home, one by one, greeting him on the steps and he could only nod, mute, in return as he stared down the street.
Qrow and Calavera came out to join him in his vigil. Yang stepped out to get the story, and she looked at the grim face of her uncle.
"You want me to wait with you?" she asked, more than just a question in her voice.
"No," Qrow said in a dark tone, but even as he said it his eyes widened, and he looked at Yang more fully. "But I want you to do something for me." He reached into his shirt and pulled out his flask. "Hold onto this until I get back."
Yang stared in open shock, Oscar could see it out of the corner of his eye, and she grabbed the flask and pinched it under her missing arm.
"You'll never see it," she promised.
Qrow mulled, fighting with the decision he made, but finally he nodded and let her go.
"You can make good decisions after all," Calavera said.
"Don't start on me, Maria," Qrow growled.
Penny came out to ask about the vigil, and Calavera said they were waiting for an idiot to come home. The nurse frowned but nodded, going back into the apartment building. Sunset slowly died to full dark, Oscar couldn't see the road anymore, and Qrow had a hand on his shoulder, trying to keep him calm.
Eventually, they heard horses plodding their way down the street. Oscar stood, trying to see through the darkness.
"Hey! You're the apprentice! Good to see you again!"
Oscar started, surprised to see an old client riding up with a bright smile. He was in a Mistral military uniform, mid-brown and a hint of green to the color, and he swept off his horse with ease and tied it. Then he moved to the second horse, the rider had a leg sticking out awkwardly at an odd angle, and Oscar knew.
"Professor!" he said, jolting to his feet and darting to the horse. Ozpin swung out of his saddle, landing on his bad leg and gripping the saddle for a moment before he pulled his good leg out of the stirrup and grabbed his cane. "Professor, we were all worried!"
"You shouldn't be here," Ozpin hissed, his eyes dark and his cheeks red with the heat. His eyes snapped to Qrow. "I sent no message for him to meet me here," he said in the intense voice he reserved for anger. "His family must be worried sick about him!"
Oscar gaped at the blatant lie, and he opened his mouth to protest but Qrow slammed a hand on his shoulder. "He's a good kid, Oz," their neighbor said, red eyes flicking to the military man. "He wasn't the only one worried when we saw you get kidnapped right off your doorstep."
"Hey, it wasn't anything like that!" the former client… Armin, that was his name. Marrow Armin. "The g-an old friend wanted to see him, that's all."
"And you're a naive candle-fye if you really think that," Qrow growled, taking an aggressive step forward.
"What did you just say?" Armin demanded, straightening.
"I said-"
"Don't waste your breath," Calavera said, finally making it to the pair of horses. "This young buck thinks he knows everything. Let life teach him a few lessons."
"I never said…!"
"That's enough," Ozpin said, his voice quiet but powerful. "It's too hot out for this. Mr. Pine, so long as you're here, help me up to my apartment, then you can tell your family you're done for the day. Abuela, Qrow, thank you kindly for your concern. Mr… I suppose it's Private Armin, I am grateful for the escort, and I'm glad that you are finding success in your new life. Good evening."
Ozpin limped past, leaving everyone a little breathless and began working his way up the steps. Oscar immediately moved to get the door, he just barely saw Armin salute and mount, taking the horses away. Calavera was already navigating her way back to the steps and Qrow stood silent guard against the military man before eventually trailing into the building.
Calavera, once they were inside, reached up with her walking stick and thwacked Oz on the back of his thighs. "What were you doing going into a carriage with the general like that?" she demanded. "Do you have any idea how worried your son was?"
"A concern I will be addressing momentarily," Ozpin said, still moving down the hall to the stairwell. "As soon as you permit me to do so."
"Oh, don't think you're off the hook for this you cantankerous old codger," Calavera said. "I know how this works, and I'm not going to stand here and watch you skimp away from a yelling you rightfully deserve. You're not a mountain unto yourself, Oz, you can't just go off like that and not expect people to worry!"
"It doesn't matter," Ozpin said, putting his first foot on the stairs. Oscar saw the flush of heat, the stiffness of his step.
"The hell it doesn't," Qrow countered, voice aggressive. "You think we were all here twiddling our thumbs over nothing? You're not alone, Oz."
"Yes I am," Ozpin said, intense again, and all at once Oscar realized no matter how scary it had been for him, with Oz and his Grimm it must have been infinitely worse. Isolation… did he really think…? "No matter how much I… How hard…" He huffed, finally making it to the second floor. He shook his head as it hung low on his frame, and the grip on his cane was stronger than iron. He tapped it heavily to the floor, three staccato claps and shook his head again. "I can't," he said finally. "Not right now. I'm sorry, Qrow, Abuela. But not right now."
Oscar quickly turned to the others, silently begging them to let him have it from here. Nana Calavera couldn't see it of course, but she had sense enough to sigh and mutter to herself in her native language as she traced her way back to the stairwell. Qrow looked like he had been struck with a fist, eyes wide in something Oscar could name if he wasn't focused on his guardian, but he scowled and finally backed up to the stairwell. His feet pounded upstairs with twice the volume they usually did.
Only then did Ozpin let out a long, dark sigh, unlocking the apartment and going in, Oscar on his heels.
The silence hung heavily in the air, Ozpin stripping out of his heat soaked waistcoat and shirt. He did not sit down as he usually did, instead he paced the narrow apartment, limping back and forth, back and forth. He did not take the damp cloth that Oscar offered, nor a glass of water. Oscar tried to keep busy at the back of the apartment, behind the privacy screen to give his guardian space, but he couldn't concentrate with the rhythm of the cane and his feet. The best he could do was lay on the bed in the darkness, debating on if he should try to talk to Ozpin now or in the morning.
He wasn't really one to wait when there was a conversation that needed to be had, but usually his shyness kept him quiet. With Oz it was always different, his guardian was always open to conversation and sensitive to when Oscar needed time to process something. It was rare indeed to see Ozpin be the one who needed to process something, and tonight was the first time ever he didn't seem sensitive to Oscar. There was no comment for him to check on the gardens, give him time to cool off. It was too dark to work up there regardless, and he'd never seen Ozpin visibly upset. Frustrated, yes, controlled anger, yes, but never upset.
Finally, however, the pacing gate slowed, and a match was struck to light candles.
"I know you're still awake," Ozpin said, and his voice was exhausted. "Do you want to talk?"
Oscar sat up from the bed, peeking out from the privacy screen. Ozpin was seated in his leather chair, stool holding his bad leg.
"... Do you?" he asked carefully.
Ozpin gave an empty huff of a laugh. "What I want is for today to have never happened," he said softly, straightening in his seat. "But I've little enough energy to waste on something as fruitless as that. Sit, Oscar, and ask what you need to."
Oscar lit several more candles, lighting the space better and hopefully with minimal heat. The night air was muggy and heavy. "Were… were Nana Calavera and Qrow right? Was it the general?"
"General James Ironwood, of the Generals of the Round Table, yes," Ozpin said.
"Nana Calavera said he wanted you to say the war."
"He did," Ozpin said, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. "He… There were…" He pursed his lips into a thin line, and raw pain crossed his features in the dim light. "Some two dozen soothsayers have already been gathered. Whether they were approached or conscripted I do not know. They are being used as petty fortune tellers, being asked if one strategy will work and do a reading, and then changing the strategy to ask again. Already sayers have been caught on the front lines, and at least four are dead. One of my students…" His voice cracked, like it had when he had admitted the Grimm he lived under, and he had to take a shaky breath.
"My apprentices were there," he said, tilting forward again and showing glassy eyes. "Young Amber, she and her apprentices were caught in some kind of crossfire. Her face is scarred almost beyond recognition, and James - no, the general - he wanted me to be a part of that." He shook his head. "He wanted me to be a part of that…!"
He stood again, started pacing. "He hinted at trying to have soothsayers predict the war with high command, and he simply worked his way down to the granular level of tactics as if that would change anything! And Lady Fria was so bright and happy to be there, proud to show off her apprentice Operative Schnee. How could they do it? After everything I taught them, all the warnings I gave, all of their own experience! I know for a fact Vernal lost friends in the war, she wrote to me when I was recovering from the backbreaker fever! They're all there, all doing as the general says, and none of them understand they're being asked to soothmake the war!"
He slammed his cane on the floor, startling Oscar.
"And James! He was my first client at Haven. We were friends for fifteen years! I thought he understood, I thought he valued the readings I gave him, but now I see he only ever saw it as a roadmap of his life to follow! He was the one who realized I had the backbreaker, he was the one to get me to the hospital, he saved my life doing so! And then the war broke out and instead of seeing me as a friend he asked over and over for a reading on the war - I hadn't even learned how to walk yet!"
Oscar marveled, listening to it all. Ozpin was a private man, he talked about himself in very specific circumstances, and to hear him unveil all of this in his anger made Oscar a little dizzy with information. All the training questions he asked were pittance, and Oscar realized he didn't know his guardian nearly as well as he thought he did. He worried his hands, watching his teacher pace back and forth.
"I'm sorry," he offered, watching Ozpin still. "I'm sorry you went through all of that. It must have been very hard." He looked down. "I can't imagine losing a friend like that." To be so close, and then watch it slowly fall apart, distance taking over, willful misunderstanding, ignorance.
Ozpin took a long, shaky breath, and in the dim light his shoulders sagged, and he stiffly sat back down.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Oscar," he said, running a hand through his silver hair. "I'm the one who should apologize. I didn't mean to upset you with Qrow's message. I didn't have time to think and…" his lips thinned. "I don't want him to know you're my son. If the general knows you're that close to me…"
"You think he'll try to use me?"
"Today was a power play," he said after a pause. "He showed me all of my former apprentices and students, demonstrating how many people were already on his side in the hopes of changing my mind." He shook his head. "You are my son, Oscar. If I could, I would protect you from the world."
Warmth bloomed in Oscar to hear the soft admission, and he finally stopped worrying his hands. "I was a little scared," he admitted. "I thought they wouldn't bring you back."
Ozpin stirred, turning to face his son more fully. His eyes were glassy again, and he held out an arm. Oscar jumped at the opportunity and darted over to hug his guardian. The embrace was as warm as it always was, strong and slick with heat sweat, but full of the same love as his aunt, and Oscar nuzzled as close as he could get.
"I'm sorry," Ozpin whispered into his hair. "I'm so, so sorry."
There was a sharp pounding on the door, startling both of them and making them stare in confusion.
"Oz!" came the voice on the other side. Qrow. "You better damn well open this door!"
Oh no. That was the drunk voice. Oscar heard Ozpin sigh and worked himself to his feet. Oscar trailed after him to the apartment door. Qrow's silhouette was drinking from his flask, and he stepped into the apartment like he owned it. In the dim light Oscar could tell he wasn't completely lushed, but there was an edge in his gaze that said he wasn't sober, either.
"Qrow," Ozpin said, "It's very late."
"I know that," Qrow said, voice low and just shy of menacing. He stepped deeper into the apartment, reaching out and grabbing at Ozpin's shoulder. "Dark Brother's filth I know that, but you gotta know it's not okay."
"I beg your pardon?" Ozpin asked slowly.
"It's not okay," Qrow said again. "You gotta know it's not okay. Fye and filth, you drag me out of the bottle, help me with Yang, get me two jobs, raise that boy of yours and think you're alone? An' I don't even know what you did for Maria, but I know you set your kid onto Pietro's girl so she doesn't hem and haw her dad too much. You work your ass off and think… think… that you get to just suffer in silence. Damn it you don't get to do that!" His voice echoed across the apartment. "If I can't shut you out to feel sorry for myself then you can't either you filthy prick."
Qrow swayed, his anger affecting his balance, and Oscar watched his guardian's eyes slowly double in size to hear all the words, slightly slurred together. Qrow grabbed Ozpin's other shoulder, mostly to stay on both feet.
"Take the help when you get it, asshole," Qrow growled. "Not everyone has those kinds of people in their lives and you're a brothers-damned moron to tell us to feck off like that. Dark Brother's filth I hate it when you do that."
"Qrow," Oscar started to say, reaching out to touch his neighbor's arm.
"You're just as bad, pipsqueak," Qrow growled, turning to face him. "You just let him off the hook when he pulls this humble noble act, and it's damned disgusting!"
"Qrow," Ozpin said, putting a hand on one of Qrow's. "That's enough. We'll talk more in the morning when you're sober."
"Oz."
"It's the middle of the night, Qrow, no doubt our neighbors are up and you are in no state of mind to hear my apology. In the morning."
"Oz-"
"In the morning," Ozpin said.
"Uncle Qrow, you brothers' damned bastard."
Oscar turned to see Yang there, eyes bright in the dim light. "You told me to handle that stupid flask and then sneak off with it three seconds into walking into that dump upstairs."
Qrow turned, eyes fierce, but he swayed again. Yang, even with one arm, expertly snuck around him and grabbed him by the shoulders, spinning him around and shoving a knee into his behind, making him stumble out of the apartment. "I got it from here, Professor. Don't worry about it," she said. She shut the door behind her and both of them, dumbfounded, listened to groaning and stumbling down the hall until there was silence.
Oscar bit his lip, and he took a chance. "He's not wrong, you know," he said softly. "A lot of people want to help you."
Ozpin put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing before lifting it to card through his dark mop of hair. He hugged him and Oscar did the same, reaching for that warm embrace from earlier. "I'll talk to them in the morning," he said softly.
Author's Notes: The war edges a little closer to the fic...
We've learned that a lot of people in the fandom have strong opinions about how Ironwood has been handled in later seasons. We actually kind of love what they did with his character, so to set expectations: Ironwood is one of two antagonists in this fic, and like in the show he goes from being a friend to being something completely different. Oz explains their friendship here, but that friendship has been struggling for a long time now.
The whole event is a shakeup in his life: he has to make some split second decisions to protect the people around him but instead hurts them instead. Oscar we continue to portray as very protective of Oz even thought that's nowhere in the show because, well, we both want that for them. It's ~self indulgence~ whattaya gonna do? Qrow is also very protective, and Nana Calavera is, too, and they all show it in different ways. Calavera will badger whoever she thinks she has to, Oscar will worry himself sick, and Qrow for the first time in years makes a good decision - and also give a huge boon ot trust to Yang in hiding his flask from him.
Like, he's not yet emotionally stable enough to steal it back after some harsh words from Oz, but that's a huge step in self improvement for him. And poor Oz, really struggling to see beyond the Isolation and Misery Grimm he lives under. Also, it was a delight to imagine how Oz shows anger, since he never does in the show. He's is totally a pacer.
Next chapter: we take a small breather and have another holiday.