Chapter Seventeen
Qrow's best crow flew back to the aviary midmorning, meaning Oscar was back from his visit at the hospital. He wanted nothing more than to run over to the office right then and start plotting with the boy on how to take the bitch soothmaker down. Yang and Ruby had both marveled when he'd dug up a loose floorboard and pulled out his old knife. He hadn't worn it since the soldiers came to him with "terrible news" and he's just… given up. He kept it at the small of his back and would keep it there for however long it took until the bitch curse maker was dead.
For now, Oscar had to work in the office and take whatever walk-ins and appointments he could. Qrow had been firmly informed to show up midafternoon as the last appointment of the day so they had the evening to do… whatever Oscar had planned.
He looked west, up the mountain, and ached to go to the hospital the way Oscar could.
"You know," Ruby said, feeding the crows, "You could say the two of you married in secret or something to get in and see him."
Qrow shook his head. She'd been like that for days now. "Doesn't work like that, half-pint."
"Well, at least you have the crows to watch him," she said. "They'll let you know if anything happens."
"Smart for a half-pint," he said with a smile, reaching out and ruffling her hair.
The morning was filled with clients - half the apartment had messages for different people across the city. More than that, a lot of people on the block had letters for families on the other side of the mountains, desperate to know if so-and-so were okay. For deliveries, those same families were sending letters back, and a few businesses who had learned about Qrow started sending invoices to people in the apartment through him because of his cheaper rates. Without the fee from registering his birds, his prices could outbid almost anyone.
Moreover, without registered birds, he sent a few crows to some of the meaner streets, asking after some very, very old friends to see if they still liked him. If things went south, and he knew they were going to go south, he wanted back up.
Ruby mostly handled the people - she was nicer and easier to like, and Qrow attached the messages and letters to his birds, running his thumbs through the feathers and telling them where to go. They always knew what to do, crows were the smartest birds to his mind, and he was always proud of his name as a result.
Lunch was brought up by one of the Brown kids, boiled vegetables and tofu, before unlocking the greenhouse to water plants. Oscar hadn't been to the greenhouse in over a week, too strung out with everything that had happened, but his work had paid off anyway: there were enough people in the building who knew how to handle the plants, and Maria and Ruby harvested as they could to secret away to the basement before the military decided to be bastards again.
By mid afternoon Qrow had finished counting out coin. He effectively had four mouths to feed with Oscar to take into account, but Yang's day labor brought in some coin, and Oscar's appointments weren't cheap - just very, very rare without a master to go to. When Oscar had explained how much soothsaying had brought in Qrow had whistled, Oz probably raked in money during his heyday - plus whatever professors made. Now he basically broke even every year, and when he didn't he pulled from savings. That Oscar was denied that… fire boiled in his belly and he quickly had to shut it down before he threw another stray punch.
The birds sensed his agitation, cawing and fluttering over to his shoulders. He shushed them and cooed for a few minutes, reassuring them before leaving the keys to Ruby.
"Don't know how long we'll be," he admitted. "Start cooking when Yang comes home and just keep a couple plates warm if it comes to it."
"I will," Ruby said with a stout nod. "Hey," she added. "I wanted you to know… I'm proud of you."
Qrow blinked. What? "... Why?"
"Because you care," she said. "Yang and I, we always knew you did, but you always felt like you had to hide it. You're more open about it now. It suits you."
Qrow… well, he'd had to look at himself a lot in the last two years. Oz had a lot to do with that. He reached over and hugged her, and she nuzzled into his collarbone.
"See?" she said with a smile. "More open."
"Know-it-all," Qrow said, ruffling her hair again.
Two blocks later he sidestepped the Crow's Nest and went into the side entrance; down the hall and up four flights of stairs. He passed Leo in the hall and knocked on the door simply labeled soothsayer. "Oscar! I'm coming in!"
Oscar was at the front desk, head in his hand as no less than four books were open, spread across it. He was alert for the first time in days, snapping to attention and motioning for Qrow to sit down. "I've been reading all day," he said with a gesture. "There isn't a lot here, but I did learn some things about Grimm and soothmakers. There's a theory that there are two types of makers: those who reinterpret readings, and those who have a reading with no one at the table. I don't get all the differences yet, it's a lot of technical information about some of the theory, the science of soothsaying, and I don't know all of it."
"Okay," Qrow said, most of it flying over his head again but determined to be whatever Oscar needed. "What's my job here?"
"I'm going to give you a reading," Oscar said, standing. Qrow did the same, following him to the reading room and the fancy, heavy stone sand basin. Qrow looked at it with a decidedly more sober eye compared to last time, the marble design of the basin was beautiful, and the green stone inlay probably sparkled if there wasn't sand in it. The copper fulcrum was intricately carved and embossed, the patina of its age a beautifly pale green. It was old, and Qrow somehow knew it was powerful.
Oscar removed a wreath of dried plants from the basin, putting his hand on the fulcrum. "Okay," he said, looking up with a professional air. "Do you want to hold my hand to help with the accuracy?"
Qrow offered his hand immediately, Oscar taking it.
"What do you want me to ask?" Qrow asked.
Oscar frowned, biting his lip. "I don't… there are a lot of things that I want to know, but I don't want to influence your question - that doesn't feel right. That feels like making."
"And we don't want to act like the bitch," Qrow said, understanding. Sort of. Not really. "Okay, let's ask a basic question: How did Oz get pushed down the stairs?"
Oscar nodded, his gaze drifting off and his hazel eyes catching the setting sunlight, taking a gold look. The pendulum of the fulcrum started to move, swirling around and Qrow watched in fascination as the thing started to do its job. His first reading with Oz, Yang fresh on his doorstep and him half drunk and trying to figure out what to do… he hadn't really appreciated what he was seeing. Now, though, sober and deeply invested in the question, he started to marvel at what was happening before him.
Most laymen - Qrow included - only knew the idea of soothsaying: you put your hand on a balance, and a pendulum made a swing in the sands. If you didn't think too hard, knowing your hand was on a fulcrum, it was easy to assume that the natural push and pull of two hands of different weights on a fulcrum would make some random-ass design and the sayer would make predictions based on the scribbles. Oz's design about him being a crowmaster, it had been beautiful, artful, but Qrow hadn't really appreciated it.
Now, however, he could watch the design, the patterns Oscar had called it, manifest, and there was no way two hands on a balance could make some of the intricate whirls and swirls and arcs he was seeing. The lines in the sand were mesmerizing.
Well, until he heard the plip of a tear landing on the table. His gaze pulled up to see a wet stain on Oscar's cheek, and the boy took a deep breath before letting go.
"I don't believe it," he muttered, leaning heavily back in his chair. He took a shaky breath, wiping his eyes. "That's not fair…"
"What is it, kid?" Qrow asked. "What did you see?"
"Ozpin… he showed me… He had a sister. They were both soothsayers, training under the King of Vale. When he worked at Beacon University after the assassination, there was a bombing. Someone set off a keg of gunpowder, and the library caught fire. He always thought his sister died in the fire."
Qrow's eyes narrowed. "I can take a guess where this is going."
"She was the soothmaker," Oscar said. "She put the Grimm on Oz the day he got his license. She's been soothmaking ever since, telling people what they wanted to hear, or doing a reading by herself. She came to see if Oz was finally dead, and instead he was alive, and he admitted that he was happy. It went against everything she had wished on him, and she demanded to know why he kept coming back…"
A fresh tear escaped his eye, and he reached out, hands hovering over on part of the intricate design in the sand. "Choice…" he murmured. "I understand now, Oz…"
He shuddered, running a hand through his hair, an Oz gesture. "He realized she was the soothmaker. When he left the office, he was going to report her to the general. He chose to stop the war instead of protecting his sister…" He shook his head.
"Fye and filth," Qrow muttered, thinking of Raven, his feelings when she'd disappeared, left, with Yang not even three months old. "Okay, next question. Where is she now?"
"Hang on," he said, leaning over the sand table. "There was something I didn't understand. This pattern here, I don't know…" he paused, looking up. "Sorry," he said softly. "I thought you were Oz."
Qrow snorted. "I'll take that as a compliment, kid. "What's your question?"
Oscar already had a piece of paper out, sketching out the design in the sand basin. "I don't know one of the patterns," he said. "I'll have to look it up later, but it has to do with where she is now. Sort of. I think. I need to look it up, that question might have already been answered." Once it was copied he pulled out a metal scrapper, clearing the basin in smooth concentric circles. "Pick a different question."
Qrow frowned as he put a hand back on the fulcrum. "Is it really possible to curse me?" he asked. "She's never even met me."
Nodding, Oscar's eyes started to go gold again, the pendulum already moving. The pattern was much smaller now, but no less intricate.
"... No," he said after several minutes. "She needs to know your name…? I think, or some kind of detail… or something. I'm not really sure. There's another pattern here I don't know, I guess not a lot of people have readings on soothmakers."
Not a great answer, but Qrow would take what he could get. It sucked that nobody knew about his tumble with Oz, their admitted love for each other, but if it kept him safe long enough to knife the bitch then he could keep quiet. "I'll make sure Ruby and Yang don't say anything," he said. "Yang's not the type but Ruby will shout to the world when something good's happened. Next question: are you going to be cursed?"
Oscar's eyes doubled in size. "... I didn't even think of that…" He cleared the basin and put his hand on the fulcrum, taking Qrow's again.
It was another small pattern, created in mere seconds. "She doesn't know about me," he said, releasing a breath.
"Small favors," Qrow muttered. He leaned back, considering what to ask next. "Is there a way to stop the curse?" he asked.
Oscar looked down. "I don't need the reader for that," he said, getting up and moving back to the front room. He returned momentarily with one of the massive books on his desk from earlier, handing it to Qrow. He glanced at the open page, saw some kind of sand design on it, but the text was dense as hell, and Qrow wasn't the greatest reader. He looked up, question on his face.
"I can't read all the text either," Oscar replied. "Well, not fast at any rate, but I can read the reading. This is the story of a soothmaker from, oh, eight hundred years ago. The reading isn't perfectly preserved, if you know the patterns you can tell it was copied by someone who didn't know what they were really doing. The really old patterns are like that, Oz says, and finding one decently preserved is sometimes a little hard. But I can tell that it talked about a Grimm. Someone was under it, and then it disappeared. The question, near as I can tell, was why it stopped. The answer was the pattern for death."
Fye and filth. "Of who?" Qrow asked, gulping. "The guy, or the maker?"
"I don't know," Oscar said, rubbing his eyes. "That part of the pattern is pretty butchered. There's maybe the pattern for justice, or it could be money, or it could be spring, or it could be… there's so many things it could be."
"... then we'll assume the best case scenario and that if we kill the bitch the curse is broken," Qrow said, shutting the book and putting it on the floor. "What's another good question… Can I ask if Oz pulls through?"
Oscar's face broke, and he looked up at Qrow with eyes that were utterly lost. "Not with the Grimm active," he said, "All I'll get is the pattern of the Grimm. Any questions about Oz's future will just show the Grimm."
"Dark Brother's filth," Qrow cussed. "Okay then, how about…" He frowned, trying to think of a question. The soothmaker was Oz's sister, the curse wouldn't stop until she was dead, Qrow was in the clear but only for now, he had to stay under people's notice. Oscar was in the clear, thank the brothers, asking where the bitch was now was a reference to a thing Oscar didn't know yet… "What's the bitch look like?" he asked, "So we know who we're looking for."
"Uh. I don't know if anyone's ever asked a question like that," Oscar said, frowning. He put his hand on the reader, and his eyes glowed again. The pattern was small again, Qrow watched it etch itself in the sand. It was after dark now, the sun had set fifteen minutes ago, and he wasn't looking forward to walking home in the dark. The streets were getting mean at night these days.
"White," Oscar said after a while. "That's her dominant color; she's as pale as Oz, and her hair is the same silver. She has red eyes, darker than yours. She's short, maybe a few inches on me."
"She'll stick out in this country," Qrow said. "I got some friends, they'll keep an eye out. Hey, you holding up okay?" The kid was starting to look pale, Qrow slowly realizing that was a sign of overwork for the kid.
"Yeah… but I think I'm done for the day," Oscar said, rubbing his hands over his face. "I just did four readings in rapid succession. That's a lot."
"Okay, then we're getting you home," Qrow said, standing.
Oscar did the same, his legs a little shaky before he settled. Qrow watched in the main office as Oscar locked up all the files, taking just about every book on one shelf and stuffing them into an old grain sack. Qrow took the weight of the sack and slung it over his shoulder. Light Brother's fye, it was heavy, but he wasn't going to let Oscar carry it. They moved downstairs and saw Leo in the hall to the side entrance.
"Oh, good, you're still here," he said. "I was just going up to knock. Do you mind if I walk with you?"
"Sure," Oscar said, and the three of them moved out around the building to the street. "What can we do for you?"
"I've spent the last two hours going over the money," Leo said, rubbing his hands together in the evening chill. "I know you and Oz are in a bind right now, and I've been trying to see if there was a way I could lighten the load. I have three empty offices right now, though, and winter is always when I lose the most tenants, that makes it hard. Taxes are in a few weeks, too, and I don't know how much the Imperial Court is going to cut out of us with the war right at our doorstep." He shuddered. "There are some ifs, here, is what I'm saying."
"You actually haven't said anything," Qrow said, shifting the weight of all the books.
"Sorry," Leo said quickly, mincing his hands. "Just that I can lower your rent of the office, Oscar. I can either do it by a quarter for the entire winter, or half for up to Midwinter Feast. I wanted to do better, but have my own bills to pay and it's everything I can do to get payment from people as it is."
Oscar stopped, staring wide eyed. Qrow watched Leo try to read the look, and shift his weight. "It's hard when no one has any money anywhere," he said quickly. "If I had the building full and it was spring instead of fall, I could do better, and I know lien are even more dear for you than they are for me, what with Oz's accounts being frozen and all but I'm sure-"
"No," Oscar said quickly, lifting his hands up. "No, thank you. Thank you very much. I can't imagine…" his eyes were glassy, and Leo smiled gently, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. Qrow smiled. "I can't thank you enough," he said. "I don't… which one lasted through the whole winter?"
"Lowering it by a quarter. Do you know how much that is?"
Qrow could see the boy doing the calculations in his head and he was a little envious the kid was so bright. "... Yes," he said finally. "That will help. That will help a lot." He started walking again.
"I know how long Oz was down with backbreaker the first time," Leo said. "Months as I remember. He was thin as a rake when they let him out, lost so much weight a breeze could knock him over. And his leg! Oh, be glad you didn't see it, he couldn't fit pants around those bulges on his knee before the swelling finally reduced. What a spell of bad luck."
Qrow scoffed as he shifted the weight of all the books. "Tch. Luck."
The trio was quiet for a moment, the dark streets casting darker shadows. Qrow threw his eyes around, knowing a grain sack was an open invitation. Everyone knew food was about to get scarce after last year, the market days were getting to be downright nuts. With money drying up like Leo said, that meant a lot of people were going to be on the streets by the first snow, unable to pay rent or keep a seasonal job. People who might have made it before the war were getting trampled now, and Qrow used to be one of those people: begging off the street, stealing when he could, picking pockets and sleeping next to chimneys for warmth.
As they approached the apartment building, they saw two horses in the dim light by the five steps, and Qrow growled low in his throat. "We got company," he said.
"Oh?" Leo asked, squinting in the dark. "Who is it, do you know?"
"... yeah," Oscar said, sounding suddenly very tired.
"And I told you I don't care if you're the Marshal General of all of Atlas! You're not one of my tenants so I'm not obliged to tell you anything. Now get on those smelly horses and ride off into the darkness, l hope the Dark Brother takes you!"
Brother's bless Maria Calavera.
Oscar sighed. "I've got it from here, Nana Calavera," he called from down the street. "We all know he's here to see me," he added under his breath.
"This guy bothering you Maria?" Qrow called. "Want me to kick his ass?"
"Qrow, you washed up old has-been! Where have you been? Can't you sicc your birds on these two rapscallions and make them go away?"
"Wait," Leo said, "Is that an Atlas general?" He stiffened, shifting slightly to be behind Qrow. Bodyguard it was, and Qrow bared his teeth in a feral grin.
"Mr. Pine," Ironwood said, nodding his head. "Lieutenant Armin said he drops you off here, at Master Ozma's apartment."
"Yeah," Oscar said, "It's on my way. Sometimes if it's really late he would let me sleep here and message home."
"... I see," Ironwood said. "I wanted to speak with you."
"And he has nothing to say to you," Maria said, shaking her head. "Come on Oscar, it's too dark out to be on the streets for long. I'll open up the apartment and you can bed down for the night. Qrow, what is all that weight to your step?"
"Birdseed for the roof," Qrow said, shifting the weight. "Found a place that had some. Should last me the winter, assuming taxes don't bleed me dry."
"Oh, yes," Leo said, nodding agreeably. "I was just telling young Oscar here how hard it is to make the money stretch. I've been going over my ledgers for weeks trying to see if I could last the winter. Everyone hates a building owner but we have our own bills to pay."
"Ha!" Maria said. "Imagine being Vacuoan, then. All my assets are frozen! You'd think a high and mighty general might go to the Imperial Court and point out what a damn stupid idea that is, but Brothers-forbid the higher ups look after the little guys like us. And I'm not even little!"
"I'm not a citizen of Mistral," Ironwood said in a flat tone. "I don't hold sway over the internal finances of another country."
"Don't you?" Maria growled. "You're running the war, aren't you?"
"Hey, be nice here," the uniform on the horse said. "He's trying to protect Haven! You should be grateful."
"I'll be grateful when I don't have to evict my tenants who've been here for thirty years because they're late on payment and that means I can't afford to keep people like Qrow to fix up the building!"
"Wait, you're letting me go?" Qrow said, indignant.
"There, see! Misery everywhere because of this stupid war! The armies should just shake hands and go home, I say."
"Now I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable-" Leo started to say, mincing his hands.
"You stay out of this, Leo," Ironwood said, his voice a dark snap of noise. "You'll say whatever you think will keep you out of trouble."
Qrow and Oscar, and Maria, froze to realize Oz's building owner and the general knew each other. Qrow looked back and forth between the two, trying to see how two wildly different people even met, Oscar at his shoulder doing the same.
Leo sighed, running a hand through his mess of grey hair. "Staying out of trouble keeps me alive, James," he said.
"It makes you a coward."
"But I'm still alive."
"Good," Maria said, "You two reminisce, I have a tenant and an apprentice to look after, so move right along."
"Ma'am," Ironwood said, cracks in his armor showing. Qrow gloried in the victory but also knew that meant the general was about to get forceful, and he put himself between the general and Oscar, glaring and silently defying the man to say something. The pause drew out, long and tense, but Ironwood sighed, audibly releasing the pressure. "I just came here to help," he said softly. "I've been thinking about what you said, Oscar, about finances. I wanted to offer you a job. You can have a permanent position as soothsayer under me for the duration of the war. You'd be guaranteed pay - and enough pay that you and your family could eat through the winter. How many are in your family?"
Qrow was about to open his mouth and deflect the question, word didn't need to go out just what Oscar's family actually looked like, but the kid moved around to stand in front of Qrow.
"General," he said politely. "I'm very grateful for your offer, but I decline. Oz… Master Ozma told me what you're using soothsayers for. He didn't approve. I don't approve. I don't want to be part of it. I'm sorry."
"Of course," Ironwood said gently, bowing his head. "I understand a principled decline. I'm sorry you feel that way."
"Next time, general, please come to the office," Oscar said, sounding so tired.
"Of course."
"Better yet, don't come at all," Qrow added. "We don't need your kind of 'help.'"
Ironwood threw a level glare, visible even in the dim light. "You're still here," he said lightly.
"Damn right I am," Qrow said, shifting the weight of the books to his other shoulder. "Building elected me as the best person to deal with you, and I take the job very seriously. Better get lost now, before Maria sics me on you and I feed your loyal mutt over there to my crows."
"Hey!"
"Enough, lieutenant," Ironwood said with a gesture. "I understand why you're so suspicious. This is a tight-knit community, you all look after your own. That's admirable, and I respect you all taking young Mr. Pine under your wing in honor of Master Ozma." He folded his arms behind his back. "But eventually you all need to understand that as a soothsayer Master Ozma is automatically part of a bigger world, a bigger picture, than you all can see."
"They see if perfectly well, James," Leo said, tired and sad. "You're the one who's blind."
"You don't see any picture," Ironwood said.
"No," Leo said. "I took Oz's reading to heart. I don't know if I'll make the right choices, but I'm not going to ignore the deeper advice he gave me. He is my friend too, and I'll honor him my way."
"General," Oscar said, rubbing his face. "It's late, and I'm tired. I have to get up early tomorrow to see Oz, and so does Lieutenant Armin."
"That's right," Maria said. "Come on Oscar, I'll get a plate of food for you. Qrow! Don't just stand there, help the boy in. Honestly I don't know why I keep you around…"
Qrow gave one last glare to the general, and a curious look to Leo, but he moved up the five steps.
Oscar removed his palms from Ozpin's, satisfied the magic was closed. After that he moved further up, putting a hand on his father's forehead. His fever had gone up again, and Oscar had heard the doctors saying they might have to quarantine Oz from all visitors. The idea of that hurt - Oscar didn't want to be separated from Ozpin, and he knew that when (if…) Oz woke up the idea of him waking up alone would… It would hurt him too much.
"You might want to know," he said softly. "I turned sixteen last night. I still have the card you made me. It's in my suitcase under the bed, along with the spare nightshirt you got when I had that cold, and some other things. You've always been very generous." He tried to smile. "I keep turning around expecting something. I guess you owe me a gift."
Oz didn't say anything. The swelling of his head injury had gone down, the whole head wrapping now replaced with a simple bandage at his temple. His cheeks were pink, and under it was a sickly pallor. They'd drained his knee again, the doctors said, and would keep draining it to slow the onset of the fever. Dr. Polendina made a point of seeing him once a week for a more detailed breakdown of what was going on in Oz's body, but medical science was only just getting off the ground, and there was so much they didn't know.
"They said it's up to you," he said, running his fingers through Oz's silver hair. "If you pull through or not. I hope you do. I have so much I still need to learn from you."
And then, low and almost inaudible, a hum.
… What?
Oscar blinked, stiffening, and leaned forward, wishing he could take Oz's mask off to hear better. "Oz…?"
Silence.
Oscar didn't know whether to be excited or disappointed, and he left the visit a little lost in his own head. Marrow, his escort, took it all in stride, patting him solidly on the back and prompting him to get on the horse to ride to the office. He was personable, offering a few tidbits of conversation before letting it drop. Oscar appreciated both the attempt and the silence, but really all he could think about was Oz, the Grimm, the soothmaker sister. And those weren't even the things he needed to focus on - rather, he had to worry about the next round of invoices, payments, supplies, ways to make sure he could eat.
With the drop off of clients he hadn't needed to visit the paper mill, or restock on pens or clean ink brushes for pattern copies. Herbs, however, were a different story. His two biggest draws of money were rent: from Leo and from Nana Calavera. Leo had tried to bargain his rent down, and Oscar was grateful, but Calavera with her assets frozen had been forced to have all the tenants pay cash so she could pay for the upkeep of the building, let alone feeding herself. He couldn't feed himself and pay those giant invoices on the money Ozpin had set aside for him. That didn't include wood for the winter, either. Qrow had unilaterally decided he would be another mouth to feed on top of Yang and Ruby, and Oscar could only be grateful.
He took a deep breath through his nose and entered the office, pulling off his second-hand coat and hanging it on one of the pegs by the door. The day started late now, but on the upside he had three regular clients today. He'd already explained that he needed money up front because of everything that happened, and these three at least, had been understanding.
His first appointment wasn't until noon, he had the morning to himself. Two hours. He had brought almost all the books Ozpin had in the office home for reading late into the night. Here he was carefully inventorying all of Oz's old readings - not that there was much to do, his father was organized in all things, but reading through the patterns over the years showed all the subtle changes in one client's pattern, or how the world looked ten, fifteen years ago. It was fascinating, and just as educational as the theory books at the apartment. Also there were the stocks of herbs in the reading room - Oscar was surprised to realize he only knew about half of them. There were two books there, on the top shelf, explaining what every herb did when charging a sand basin, as well as how to use it for maximum efficiency.
Oscar put his hand on the reader, missing Ozpin so intensely so suddenly, before he could shake it off and get to work.
He opted to skip getting the stove going for heat - wood would have to last and for now the space was warm enough. The occasional shiver wouldn't bother him.
His first client was the old man down the street, asking a question about his grandchildren. His second and third clients similarly were pretty standard, and for the afternoon he planned to clean the windows and scrub everything down. He hadn't done any cleaning since Oz's fall, and it was starting to get obvious.
A knock came at the door, and Oscar opened it to see Leo.
"Did you hear the news?" he said, grabbing Oscar's shoulders and pushing him back into the office.
"News? What news?" Oscar said.
"They're lowering the draft!" Leo said, face intense. "How old are you?"
Oscar gulped. "I turned sixteen yesterday," he said.
"Brothers save us," Leo cursed. "That's the draft age!"
The enormity of the news was slow to sink in. Draft… war… battle… Oscar… was going to go to war? War?
"But… I'm still just a kid," he said, confused. "I'm barely two years into my apprenticeship. How can they…?"
"I don't think they rightly care," Leo said, closing the door behind him. "They'll be plucking kids right off the street at this rate! The papers are all amok over it, I'm trying to get a look at the legislation. Surely there must be exemptions - more than just a money barrier, I hope. I used to be a lawyer, if I can find an exemption we might be able to figure out how to apply it to you. Oh, if only you were a year younger, I wouldn't have to rush!"
Oscar was still playing catch up, still picturing himself in Marrow's uniform, carrying a musket over the mountains and fighting Oz's people - or fellow Mistalans if the rumors were to be believed. He wasn't a fighter…! Not like Yang and Qrow, or even Nana Calavera. He wouldn't survive the first fight - and who would look after Oz? Who would let him know he wasn't alone, he didn't have to be miserable?
… Was this the Grimm…?
"I can't," he said, starting to shake. "I can't! I can't fight the war, I still have two years before I'm drafted. I have to…" He shook his head, worrying his hands. "What am I going to do? What am I going to do?"
"Breath, boy, breath," Leo said, patting his back. "We'll figure something out, I promise. Let's get you sitting down - fye it's cold in here. Let's get a fire going."
Oscar was lost - what was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to be there for Oz, learn to be a soothsayer, live past twenty? He didn't know how to fire a musket, he didn't know how to march in formation, he didn't know how to follow military jargon, he certainly wasn't fit enough to go gallivanting about after sitting at a desk since his aunt died - who was going to maintain the building gardens? Who would check on Nana Calavera? Who would be there when Oz woke up? He took a deep breath, then another, then another. This was terrible, terrible!
"Here," Leo said, pressing a hot cup of tea in his hand. Oscar looked up, still half in his own head, seeing the landlord sit opposite him at the desk. "The weaver downstairs, she owes me a favor, and I have her walking up the mountain to see if she can get a copy of the order. The papers don't have it yet and time is crucial. I need the exact language of the order, see if we can't find a way to wiggle you out of it. She'll be back by closing, she said. My only worry is she can't read worth a damn, they might try and fool her."
"But what if there isn't a work around?" Oscar asked. "What if they really do drag me off?"
"I don't know," Leo said, shaking his head. "You can't sue the Imperial Court, better lawyers than me have tried. Don't you worry, we'll think of something."
"No you won't, Leo."
Both Oscar and Leo looked up to see the general there, one of his staff behind him.
"James!"
"General Ironwood, Leo," the general said. "Only friends call me James."
Leo stood, a deep frown on his face, and Oscar looked back and forth between the two, remembering the night they had all fought on the front steps of the apartment. "You've got a lot of nerve coming into my building," Leo said, "Let alone up here after that night. The boy doesn't want to see you, why can't you honor that?"
"Because if he doesn't see me, he'll be sent to the front lines," the general said. "And unlike you I defend my friends any way I can."
"You have no right to say that James," Leo said, stepping forward. "I did everything I could for Oz during the Lost Summer and-"
"No you didn't," the general said with narrow eyes. "You just sat in the background and waited until the worst had already happened. You were a coward."
"This again," Leo said, shaking his head. "You think visiting him and talking to him wasn't enough - you wanted some sweeping gesture of solidarity as if any of us have the same power you do to make something like that happen."
"I came to see him collapsed in his office," the general said, rich baritone heated. "Already burning to the touch and already delirious from the fever. Where were you?"
Leo shook his head again. "I'm not having this conversation again, general. Let me show you the way out."
The general's face froze over. "Take one step," he said, "And I'll have you arrested."
Leo froze, and so did Oscar, both of them blinking in surprise at the threat. Ironwood moved deeper into the office, Leo backing up, and the staffer, the curt Bree woman, closing the door for privacy. "Now," he said, in total control of the room. "Oscar. I know about the draft, and I know as Master Ozma's apprentice you're the closest thing he has to a family legally. I, for one, don't want my friend to wake up without you. Here is what I propose: when the draft comes for you, announce that you are a soothsayer's apprentice. The Imperial Court has agreed to give me special reserve on soothsayers to help the war effort. I can promise you won't do any readings, I don't want to go against your wishes. But it will keep you off the front lines and alive to be there when Ozpin wakes up.
"Paperwork will take about two weeks. Think about what I've said. The choice will be yours."
The general bowed his head and turned, the tall, thin staffer opening the door and letting the general exit first before closing the door politely behind him. With him went all the air in the office.
Author's Notes: Here's a question: do landlords like Leo actually exists? Ones who understand a renter's plight and tries to help them out as they can? Or are all landlords evil? On the other side we have Nana Calavera, also a landlord but forced to change her more caring, sensitive ways because she lives in a country where the government sees an immigrant like her as a threat.
Anyway, this is kind of a big Ironwood chapter. He's trying really hard to be there for Oscar - but in his own way, with both interpretations of the phrase. He wants to help Oscar on his own terms, aka in his own way, but he also gets in his own way because he has yet to fundamentally listen to what Oscar needs. He's the guy who sweeps in to do someone a favor and then be completely confused as to why the recipient is mad.
We also see an important difference between Leo and James: Leo had his reading from Oz, and he listened to the layers of it and tried to improve himself. He knows his faults and weaknesses, but he does what he can as he can as he tries to be a better person. James... well. More on that later.
A lot of people are trying to protect Oscar, but the Grimm is still active, and the draft age lowers. Place your bets now on if he can dodge the draft. Speaking of...
Next chapter: Qrow meets and old friend and a side character makes their guest appearance.