Chapter Twenty-Two

"Uncle Qrow?"

Qrow grumbled and buried himself further into the pillow.

"Uncle Qrow, you've got a message."

He was almost in a dream. A dream with Ozpin, Oscar, Ruby, Yang, all of them sitting at Midwinter Feast, Tai, Robyn, even Raven, Summer and Clover back from the dead, laughing and dancing, solemn, yet a celebration.

Then a beak started pecking at his ear.

Groaning, Qrow pulled himself out of the almost-dream and looked around. Ozpin's apartment. Right. They'd survived the riot by hunkering down, but everyone was just so hungry and Midwinter was supposed to be a feast. Robyn had published another pamphlet with stories from Sun and Neptune and the anger just erupted. Maria didn't let anyone out of the building, especially the dumb kids who thought the riot might be fun, stating firmly that safety was more important. Ren, surprisingly, supported her, keeping his squad at the doors and listening to Maria's orders. Ren also didn't let his squad go out to deal with the rioting.

"Our job is safety. The people of this building are safe and not fighting, so we must protect them."

Though if anyone looked at Ren or his squad, it looked like a stiff wind might knock them over. While the building was getting thin in the face, Oscar's manic harvesting all season keeping them with a little food each week if rationed out carefully, Ren and his squad were like skeletons.

The morning, when the sun rose and exhaustion and hunger reminded everyone that being up all night on an empty stomach and rioting, didn't really help. Many had crawled home in the wee hours of darkness and collapsed.

Qrow, having been up on the roof sending messenger crow after messenger crow from the families in the building worried about others in the city, had collapsed soon after.

In Ozpin's bed.

Fye and filth. The sheets still smelled like Oz. No wonder he'd slept so soundly. No wonder his dream had Ozpin by his side and Oscar nearby.

"Uncle Qrow?"

"I'm up," he sighed. "And why did you let me sleep here instead of my cot?"

Ruby pulled back from leaning over him, and smiled. "You needed it."

"This is Oz and Oscar's bed," Qrow said. "Not mine. I should have been in my cot."

"You needed it," Yang repeated, coming behind the privacy screen with a cup of tea. "You were already asleep when you came down. You've been working so hard, you needed a good sleep and we all know that the cots are crap."

Qrow let out some more choice language and accepted the tea, a crow settling on a knee and pecking at his nightshirt impatiently.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he muttered. "What time is it?"

"Noontime," Ruby replied. "You could use more sleep, but the crows are insisting."

"Fine." He rubbed the crown of the impatient crow and prompted a roost on his finger so that he could get up and walk to the dining table. Toast was already out, along with a thin broth made from the vegetable scraps they'd been using all week. "When do we go down to our food pantry next?" He could really use a meal with some more weight to it.

"Three days," Ruby said. "We've been keeping pace fine. We're halfway through what Oscar was able to harvest, and now it's halfway through winter."

"That's not how it works," Yang said, sitting down at the table as well. "Spring doesn't automatically give us more food. That's when it's planted. Ideally we'd get some food from the southern towns and hamlets with spring, since they'll be able to start growing before us, but the rebellion's there and we're here. We won't really get more food till mid to late spring, early summer at the latest." She ran her single hand through her long hair. "And we don't have Oscar to start planting."

"Do we know if he has a schedule around here of what to plant when?" Qrow asked.

"Not that I've found," Ruby said, sitting on her cot with her own tea. "We can ask in a message."

The crow cawed loudly, thrusting a foot forward insistently.

Qrow rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine." This was not one of his crows. It had been sent from a different post. He pulled out the message and unrolled it, handing it to Ruby. "You'll read that faster than me. Let me keep eating."

Ruby unrolled the message and Qrow set aside his toast to sip the broth. Between the supplies that he and his nieces had been stashing and the ones Ozpin and Oscar had been stockpiling, food was at least flavorful. Qrow smirked, remembering Ozpin intending to spend a day grinding down dried herbs for the winter and the erotic display he unknowingly was with a mortar and pestle. He held that memory close and just how damn much Ozpin said he loved him during that tumble, and especially afterwards.

"Light Brother's filth," Ruby swore.

"Woah, sis, language," Yang said. "What's wrong?"

"The general," Ruby said, reading through the message before. "It's from Blake. Oscar spent Midwinter with Ozpin and the general wasn't happy. Ozpin's backbreaker has taken a turn for the worse, and since Oscar spent the night in the infectious ward, the general is quarantining him for two weeks. He won't be able to see Ozpin at all."

"Dark Brother's fye," Qrow swore.

"And Blake's getting worried about the soothsayers. They're getting more and more restricted."

"The general's asserting control," Qrow frowned. "Wish we could stage a jailbreak."

But the backbreaker getting worse?

Qrow just closed his eyes and felt. Ozpin didn't talk much about his first fight with the fever, only that it was difficult and that it took a year to relearn how to walk. Oscar made it sound like he'd barely survived.

And now he was reinfected.

Qrow wanted to scream. Qrow wanted to drink.

Instead he took a deep breath. "How are the streets?"

"Emptier," Ruby said. "I think a lot of people are still asleep. Those that are out are trying to clean up."

"I'm going up to visit Weiss," Yang said. "Her sister, the soothsayer, should be back up at the palace, so I'll see what she has to say. I'll also check our bolthole, make sure none of the rioters got in."

"How are supplies there?" Qrow asked, sipping his broth again.

"We can lay low there for a few weeks. Food will be the biggest problem, but Weiss keeps getting presents from her family in Atlas and she's been hoarding them in case we need them."

"And when does your palace spy come down?"

"Her next day off is the end of the month."

They'd get more detailed information then. Things that wouldn't fit or shouldn't be put in a messenger crow.

"Ruby, you've got the aviary today. I'm going to make some rounds."

"No problem!" Ruby chirped. "I know just the crow to send with you."

They had maybe another four hours of light for the day and, frankly, Qrow wanted to crawl back into bed. Cot. Whatever. His first stop was almost three milles up the mountain to Robyn's printshop. It was a mess. The glass was broken and it was clear rioters had made it into the front of the shop. Tables and supplies had been turned over as a barricade, so Qrow waited in the busted doorway, worried.

"Hello?" he called. "Robyn?"

There was a click of a lock and Robyn poked her head out from the back. "Qrow! Oh, good, it's you."

"You okay?" he asked, carefully stepping in.

"Things were crazy last night," she said mildly. "A lot of people figured out that I have sources and people are desperate. I'm glad that me and my ladies camped here last night to be safe. It got ugly."

"I can see that. Need a hand cleaning up?"

Robyn gave a warm smile. "Nah, we're going to stay locked up today. Then we'll start cleaning tomorrow, make sure things are cooling off."

"You should still get some planks or something to block off the windows. You don't want anyone coming in tonight."

"Working on it," Joanna said, tall and strong, coming from the back. "Just waiting for some hammer and nails. Fionna's out getting that and some other supplies."

Qrow nodded. "Any news?"

Robyn shook her head. "No sign of this maker you're looking for. The richer boroughs are harder to search because a lot of those types left guards for the property or are renting it out."

Brothers, he hoped the bitch was still in the city. He had a knife that needed her blood.

"Need me to send anything to the rebellion?"

Robyn shook her head. "They've been glad to send all the stories, but they want maps of the area. No one here is ever outside the city and all the cartographers are up the slope."

"That's all?" Qrow asked. "You need to talk to the teamsters or day laborers. When we need to haul rock, there are paths out to the quarries."

Robyn's eyes glittered. "May!" she called. "We got a lead!"

One of her workers came forward and Robyn quickly dealt out instructions on who to find and talk to and what to ask about. Once she was on her way, Robyn looked to Qrow again.

"You look like the filth of the Dark Brother."

He gave a short chuckle. "With the riots, a lot of tenants were sending crows to family in the city to make sure they were safe. I think I'm working on… four hours of sleep right now?"

"And you're awake because…?"

Qrow sighed. "The apprentice sent word. Backbreaker took a turn for the worse." He looked to Robyn and for a brief moment, as he rubbed the feathers of the crow on his shoulder, Qrow had an inspiration that might actually do something useful. "Conditions for the soothsayers up there are getting worse."

"It's worse for everyone, shadow-beard," Robyn said lightly. "We're all starving. The palace isn't."

Qrow shook his head. "You don't get it. The apprentice has just been restricted to barracks. They can't even leave to get the supplies they need. A pair of soothsayers left to join family for Midwinter and are being punished for it."

"For seeing family? On Midwinter?"

Qrow nodded, eyes narrowed. "I know that soothsayers have a bad reputation right now, but Ozpin's done too much for too many people. Isn't it time people realized that a soothsayer guides and helps people?"

Robyn narrowed her eyes. "You've got a plan?"

"With all the pamphlets you've been publishing, maybe a few stories about what a good soothsayer does? Remind the people that soothsayers have a job in the community."

Her eyes glittered. "A humanities story? Show that they're still doing their best despite being drafted and going against what they're supposed to do… It would need a lot of groundwork to set opinion."

"You're the publisher," Qrow said, rubbing at the feathers of his crow again, enjoying how it warmed his fingers." He looked away. "It would be nice if… If Oz survives, it would be nice if he actually had clients and a job to get back to."

Robyn's face softened and she reached out, squeezing his arm. "Hang in there," she said. "The mood of the city has changed. It's going our way. Things will get better."

"How much worse before they get better?"

A crow swooped in the broken window to land on Robyn's shoulder.

"No message?" Robyn asked, checking the crow's feet.

"That's one of mine," Qrow said, holding out a finger and the bird gave a happily little caw and flapped over. "What are you doing here?"

"Finally!" came a voice from outside.

Turning, at the door was a redhead, blue-green eyes panting in exhaustion. "I've been following that bird for a week!"

"And you are…?" Robyn said suspiciously.

"Major Nora Valkyrie," the redhead replied. "Of the revolution." Then she fell forward, panting. "Brothers' fye, it was hard getting here."

"Joanna, keep watch in front here, and help Fiona board up when she comes back," Robyn stepped forward, kneeling by the redhead. "Shadow-beard, we're going to the back."

The major was clearly exhausted, and when Qrow and Robyn went to help her stand, she hissed in pain. They helped her get to the back room with the printer and Qrow scribbled a quick request to Ruby to send Penny over.

Valkyrie was settled in a cot by the back wall, and shrugged off her coat to pull up her shirt and look at what appeared to be a bundle of bandages under her corset. "Filth, it's bleeding again."

"What happened?" Qrow asked. "How did you get through the south gate? Imperials are searching everything."

Valkyrie hissed, pulling at her bandages to reveal a deep gash that had pierced the boning of the corset. "Cursed riot," she growled. "I don't suppose you have a trustworthy seamstress nearby?"

"More like a trustworthy nurse," Qrow said. "And a doctor, but if you're rebellion, I doubt we can bring you to my building. The fourth floor is billeting Imperial soldiers."

Grunting, Valkyrie nodded. "When Sun and Neptune got that crow, I decided to follow it. It seemed to know I was following and made it easy for me to get to the city. Had to hide under a wagon to get through the gates. That is one unbelievably smart crow."

It seemed that Valkyrie was here to help organize the people of the city. She explained that the rebellion was investigating ways to get into the city with spring, hoping to finally end the war and get positive changes started. They needed someone on the inside who could organize a resistance so that the Imperials would be hit on both sides to make it decisive. Valkyrie had volunteered.

"We have the rest of winter to organize people here in Haven," she finished off. "I'm here to train them and help plan the attack."

Penny, who had arrived during the course of the explanation, was stitching up the side.

"The citizens of Haven are not ready for anything like this. They are hungry and slowly wasting away," she said, dabbing away blood for another stitch. "The general has drafted the soothsayers of Haven to predict the war and defeat you."

"It doesn't work like that," Qrow said, wondering when he'd chosen to be the defender of Ozpin's job when he barely understood it. "You need a person on the other side of a sand reader. A soothsayer can only advise. What that Atlesean bastard is doing is soothmaking. He's cursing the whole damn country like this."

Penny frowned. "Is this in regards to the magic that Mr. Pine and Master Ozma have talked about? It seems dubious that a few swirls in the sand can do all this damage in a country."

"I've seen the results of making," Qrow said darkly. Oz's dire predictions that once he was happy the curse would trigger and the following results had made him a believer. Oscar's regular explanations and the readings they did to try and figure out what to do. Yeah, Qrow believed in magic, he believed in saying, and he believed he had a knife for the white witch bitch still waiting at the small of his back.

"We can worry about the mumbo jumbo later," Valkyrie said, hissing with another stitch. "Filth that hurts! How do we get word out that I'm here to train people?"

Robyn was already writing things out slate. "Don't worry about that. A few harmless pamphlets about a self-defense instructor will get people here." Her grin was viscous. "And there will be interest."

"There will be no such class while my patient is healing from a stab wound," Penny insisted.

"Who says I'm training fighters?" Valkyrie said with a manic grin. "I have some different ideas that won't expose the citizens to risk. We don't want anyone getting hurt if we can avoid it."

"I am uncertain there will even be fighting in the city," Penny replied. "The Imperial forces at the southern gate of the pass have been guarding it all winter."

"Have you seen Sergeant Struggling lately?" Qrow retorted. "He and his squad are starving worse than us. If you brush one of them you'll probably break a bone."

Penny scowled at him. "I agree that the Mistralan army has not held to what an army is supposed to do. They have not, as a whole, acted with honor and their conditions are deplorable. It is unfair that Nana Calavera lost tenants to the billeting and can barely make ends meet. But Sergeant Ren has been an example of-"

"Ren?" Valkyrie gasped. "Lie Ren? Is here? And he's in the Imperial army?"

"You know him?" Qrow asked.

Valkyrie's eyes teared up. "I… What should I…" She took a deep breath. "I have a mission to do, that takes priority. I choose..." she looked pale and winced, tears still in her eyes. "I choose to keep reflecting on myself. He has to reflect on himself."

Robyn put a hand one her shoulder. "Don't worry, red. It will work out."

Valkyrie nodded.

"We'll put you up here. At least till you won't bleed over my printing press."

Penny tied off the last stitch and started applying the bandage. "I will stop by every morning to check the patient, is that acceptable?"

"Fine by me, nuts and bolts."

Penny nodded. "Also, at some point, my dad will need to see her."

Robyn hesitated. "It would be a lot for him to get his chair up here. I don't trust the streets for him right now. People aren't that happy that Atlas is interfering."

Penny nodded.

Qrow rubbed the breast of his crow and wondered when he'd ended up as message-master for the rebellion. He had so much he wanted to talk to Oz about, get his opinion on. With a sigh, he bid his farewells and glanced up at the sky. Another hour or two of light left. He'd wanted to check with Leo and all the litigation he'd been organizing against the Emperor, but he didn't want an argument. The guy was too skittish to do things himself. Instead he was reaching out to other litigators with any information Qrow brought about the rights of the citizens being trampled all over, and what was going on with Oz.

He missed Oz.

So much.

Oscar was still able to see him, but the last view of Oz Qrow had was arriving up at Higanbana, standing over him as Oscar whispered that Ozpin would be reinfected with backbreaker because of the curse. And that had held true. Qrow hadn't realized how much Ozpin was a part of his life until he was gone.

He loved him so much.

With a heavy sigh, he started the long trek back down the mountain.

He was still three blocks away when he heard his name.

"Ah, Crowmaster Branwen."

Qrow turned. "Sergeant Thinker," he greeted. "I see you're patrolling."

Ren nodded. "My CO informed us that we are to keep the streets safe tonight and prevent rioting."

"Good luck with that. The people are angry and hungry."

Ren nodded. "I… I have a message for one of your crows."

Qrow sighed. "Your sweetheart again?"

"The messages are being delivered," Ren said. "I know she's still alive. I… I just want to see Nora."

Nora? Valkyrie. That was the girl Ren was sending messages to. Star-crossed lovers if ever there was a pair. Oh for Brothers' sake, Qrow was too old to deal with this child lovey-dovey nonsense. These two were twenty, surely they could sort their filth out without him needing to do anything. "Ever think she doesn't want to see you?"

"I…" Ren hesitated. "I've been doing a lot of thinking. I… There's something I need to say."

"You know my prices."

Ren nodded, pulling out the small message he'd clearly had prepared. His coins were once more clearly found from the street, and Qrow gave the message to the bird still on his shoulder. It wouldn't take long to send.

The one Qrow wanted to message was Oz.

After the "quarantine," Oscar was escorted to the general's office with the giant map, but not by his usual escort, Marrow. Winter Schnee, one of the apprentices but also one of the general's staff was there, standing stick straight in perfect posture. Ironwood himself was sitting at the table that originally held the feast, apparently his desk, hands folded in front of his face.

"Oscar," he said as a greeting.

"General," Oscar replied.

Ironwood took a deep breath, leaning back and relaxing his hands. "I want you to understand how dangerous it was," he said, "What you did. With soothsayers helping with the war that puts them in a dangerous position - they need to be protected because they are providing the greatest service to the war: predicting how to end it. If word gets out what you're doing, you'll be vulnerable to any number of retaliation. When I first recruited the soothsayers, we decided very quickly to bring them here to the palace where they could be kept safe. The reason they are still safe is because we always know where they are at all times. I know Lieutenant Armin has mentioned you don't like the checkpoint at the palace gates."

Oscar said nothing.

Ironwood frowned, but kept going. "I'm not mad that you went to see Oz, Oscar. I'm mad you did it without telling anyone. There was no way to protect you if things went wrong, and there have been several riots in the last two weeks in the foothills. For now, it's just the foothills, but as winter drags on things can and will escalate. I need to know that you understand this. I need to know that you'll follow orders for your own safety."

Oscar said nothing. He just sat there, staring. He wasn't sure the silent treatment was a good idea, necessarily, but after two weeks of isolation, not even being allowed to see Blake as she delivered food, he was beyond being able to give the general what he wanted to hear. He wasn't going to "follow orders." He had made that clear the moment he refused to wear the uniform. Even now he was in his olive green overcoat that Blake had managed to find for him, not the Atlas white or the Mistral brown.

Ironwood leaned forward again, gaze slowly growing more intense. "Oscar-"

"When can I see Oz?" he asked, voice low and tired.

Ironwood blinked, somehow surprised at the question - how was beyond Oscar's imagination - but his eyes narrowed again. His face had a beard now, thick and dark but it didn't hide the curve of anger on his mouth before he heaved a sigh. "Until I know that you won't do something like this again," Ironwood said, "I can't let you see him for your own safety."

"You'd deny an orphan the closest thing to family he has, simply because I won't do exactly as you say," Oscar replied, too tired to care. "Do you understand how that sounds?"

"That will be all, Sergeant Pine," the general said.

"And I'm not a sergeant, James," Oscar replied. He stood and left, moving back to the workhouse.

Schnee joined him. "You were disrespectful," she said in cold tones.

"He's holding me prisoner, Winter," Oscar said. "I'm a little past showing him respect."

"He's not holding you prisoner," she said, shaking her head. "He's trying to protect you. For now we all have to give up some personal freedoms, but if it keeps us secure until the war ends then it's worth it."

"No," Oscar said softly, rubbing his eyes. "Some things matter more, I think. The more we sacrifice for 'safety' the less human we become. I don't need a reader to know that if this keeps up he'll stop seeing any of us as people."

"That will never happen," Schnee said with confidence. "He makes the difficult decisions so we don't have to. We all have to wrestle with what we've been asked to do, we all have to understand the price we pay for doing this service, but it is a service, a duty to help end the war quickly and with minimal casualties."

"It was a service I didn't choose to do," Oscar said as they entered the workhouse. "And because of that I choose to still be a person." He turned away from her, moving to the back closets where the apprentices were expected to work. Several soothsayers were watching him move through the rows of sand tables, he felt the eyes on him and it prickled along his senses.

Pyrrha met him not at the midlevel door, but the advanced. Oscar internally groaned, he didn't want to admit how much magic he had by going into a door that he had no reason to go in after only one year apprenticeship. Pyrrha was oblivious to this, ushering him in and shutting the door behind her. It was freezing, but Ozpin's sand table had been moved in, a charging wreath wrapped around the basin. One other woman was there, missing an arm and an eye. She barely spoke, Oscar didn't even know her name.

"Here," Pyrrha said, sitting him down at the sand reader. "I have a lot to tell you - the first of which was that I wasn't quarantined when they realized I never entered Master Ozma's room.

Oscar blinked. "... What?" he asked.

Pyrrha nodded. "I didn't think it was fair either, we were both somewhere without permission, but somehow you were the only one punished. But that's not the important thing - I got those two patterns and I've been combing the books. I can't find those patterns anywhere. I showed them to Master Amber, and she didn't know them either. We did a reading together, and we both agree: these are brand new patterns."

"I… what?"

"I know! It's amazing. We want to know the rest of the reading, we want to read the entire thing, see if we can infer what it means in context."

"Oh… Oh, I never even thought of that," Oscar said, shaking his head. "I should have thought of that, Oz always tells me the patterns are meant to be read as a whole and that each one links to another to make the story. I've done that, too, but I didn't think… I'd never seen them before and…" He put his head in his hands, still shaking his head. "I'm so stupid," he muttered.

"No," Pyrrha said, reaching out and touching an elbow. "Not stupid. I know how stressful it's been for you to be here, of course it would be hard to work in a place that's so uncomfortable for you. Now, Master Amber is working with the intermediates today, and Lady Fria is off with Winter to go somewhere for a consultation, that's all it says in the schedule. Cinder here is going to go out in a moment to help with the beginners, and all the other advanced are out in the main lobby doing readings."

"... I thought only seventh year apprentices were out doing readings?" Oscar said.

"That changed last week," Pyrrha said, waving it off. "I need to go out and join them but before I do I want you and I to work together to learn what these two patterns mean."

Oscar blinked, a little overstimulated after two weeks of isolation, and he struggled to keep up with Pyrrha. "Okay," he said finally. "I don't… I'm not sure what you want me to do. I haven't done a reading since they dragged me here."

"Don't worry," Pyrrha said. She paused, throwing a side glance to the injured Cinder. Oscar did, too, uncertain what had made her stop. Cinder, in turn, turned and glared at them, a rattled noise escaping her throat, before she stood and left the room, leaving the pair alone.

Pyrrha let out a sigh of relief. "I've worked with her for three years," Pyrrha said. "I don't want to speak ill of her."

Oscar understood. They didn't like each other.

Pyrrha removed the charging wreath, gently placing her hand on the copper fulcrum of Ozpin's table. "I have a question, Master Soothsayer," she said with a soft smile.

Oscar grinned, feeling light for the first time in… he wasn't sure how long. "Do you want to hold my hand to help with accuracy?" he asked. Pyrrha chuckled and reached out. "What's your question?"

"What does this pattern mean?" she asked, holding up the first one he'd identified.

The two of them closed their eyes - it was different, doing a reading like this. It felt almost like doing a reading with Ozpin - not the training readings, with small, basic questions. The more powerful questions tracing Ozpin's history with the Grimm. The weight and the power of the magic was greater, and Oscar wondered in a distant corner of his mind if this was because Pyrrha had a lot of magic in her. The sand started to shift, tracing out the original pattern and nesting smaller symbols: mistake, tragedy, price and toll interwoven together, choice, but inverted and reversed - the opposite of choice. Then came other patterns: perversion, bad, decision, isolation, misery.

That was when Oscar understood, and he gasped slightly, eyes snapping open and pulling his hand from the reader.

"What… what is that?" Pyrrha said, staring at the sands. "I know all of the patterns, but the way they're linked together…"

"This pattern," Oscar said, staring. "This is the symbol of a Grimm."

"A Gri…" Pyrrha was wide eyed, gulping audibly. Several things flashed across her features, she obviously was quicker on her feet than Oscar sometimes was, and she started to connect the dots. "This has to do with the Grimm from before, doesn't it?" she asked, "The one you showed me when I asked about what started the war."

"Yes," Oscar said, getting up to get some paper and an ink brush. "Those last two patterns, isolation and misery, they were on the mask of the Grimm. That's the wish, the source of the curse."

"Brothers, who would ever want to curse someone with isolation and misery?" Pyrrha asked, wide eyed.

Oscar bit his lip, thinking. "... The same person who pushed my master down the stairs," he said softly.

Pyrrha snapped to attention, her eyes lifting off the pattern for soothmaker and staring at Oscar. She opened her mouth twice to say something, thought better of it, a hundred thoughts racing through her mind before she finally closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth. "Okay," she said. Her hands were a little shaky as she cleared the sands. "Okay. Okay. Next question: what does this second pattern mean?"

She held up the second copy and took Oscar's hand.

The original pattern was traced out, and inside the symbol for location was almost half the next, but the pattern for it was made up with the extremely rare soothmaker pattern, deception, lie, anger, bitterness, mask, hidden, sand-reading. It wasn't a combination Oscar understood, and Pyrrha didn't either, both of them staring at the pattern as the reading finished.

"It… it has to do with location, I get that part," Pyrrha said, tracing out the individual patterns. "But the others are all so tightly linked together they're hard to read. Can you make it out?"

"Yes," Oscar said, pointing and listing out all the smaller patterns he saw. "I don't know why they're all linked together like that."

"Amber might," Pyrrha said, making her own copy of the reading. "She found a pattern once - not as impressive as your Master Ozma, I know, but she has a knack for understanding how more complicated patterns like this mean in a greater whole."

Oscar frowned. "Should we really bring her in?" he asked carefully. "She's closer to the general than the apprentices are."

Pyrrha smiled. "She is, but she's also Ozpin's former apprentice. You weren't there when the general approached us at university. It was a debate for the ages." Her smile faded, her gaze starting to drift. "She's so different now," she said, leaning back. "Since the surprise attack. She's so… tired, I guess. Sometimes it looks like she's not even there. I wish you'd known her in her prime."

"I'm sorry," Oscar said, looking down. "And I'm sorry that all of this has happened."

"... I have another question," Pyrrha asked, tracing a finger down her cheek before clearing the basin. "Are you up for it?"

"Yes."

"... Have I ever made a Grimm since joining the general?"

Oscar stared as Pyrrha took his hand, shocked and unable to process for several seconds before he could shake it off and focus on the question. Ozpin's fulcrum twitched, and a simple, elegant pattern traced itself out: Affirmative.

"I'm sorry," Oscar said.

Pyrrha said nothing else, her face entirely lost as she wordlessly stood and left the apprentice room in a daze. Oscar got up to follow her but stopped himself. He needed time to process big things like this, she probably did, too. This is what a master was for, and he hoped she went to Amber immediately.

He spent the rest of the morning trying to look like he was helping. After two weeks of isolation he moved around the reading tables and asked the masters if they needed anything: water, a snack, help cleaning a basin. A few asked if he would do a reading, and he politely refused. Those masters coldly said they had nothing for him, but other masters saw he was trying, and made small requests. He gave Major Zeki lists for herbs, helped make charging wreaths for the apprentice tables, asked Colonel Erdine when food would be coming. Marrow was still in the workhouse, and when he saw Oscar he ran right over and threw him into a tight hug.

"I was so worried about you!" he said brightly. "You spent a whole night in the infectious ward, I thought for sure you were going to get sick! Honestly, I don't know how you can stand the smell of the place."

"I don't really smell it," Oscar said, happy to see another friendly face. "I just… It was Midwinter Feast."

"Hey," Marrow said, "I don't blame you. You had every right to go. I just wish you'd left word with your CO."

"Marrow," Oscar said, shaking his head. "I don't have a CO. I'm not a part of this."

Marrow smiled, a little sad, and ruffled his hair. "Don't look like a lost pup," he said. "Chin up, right? You're back here and can catch up on all that reading you do. Hey, do you know when you visit the professor next? I'll be all nice and ready for you!"

Hurt bloomed in Oscar's chest as the reality of the general's punishment finally became real. "I'm… I'm not allowed to see him anymore," Oscar said, looking down.

"What?" Marrow said, his voice echoing slightly before he controlled himself. "What?" he repeated in a quieter tone. "But that was a condition of you coming here wasn't it? I mean before you were drafted. Why would the general go back on that?"

"Because I won't agree to follow orders," Oscar answered, energy leaving him as he turned away from Marrow. He retreated back to the apprentice room, sitting at his father's table, and just… drifting off… in his thoughts, like he did during isolation.

The backbreaker fever took months to burn through. If he survived recovery would be at least a year. If he survived he was coming back to a world where soothsayers had been forced to say the war. If he came home Oscar would…

"Please come home," he whispered. "Please survive. Please…"

And… let Oscar survive, too. Let both of them go home to Nana Calavera, listen to her yell at them for hours with her Vacuo swears. Let them both eat with Qrow, and Yang and Ruby. Let them watch the Midsummer Procession up the mountain, watch the light festival at night. Let them go to the office and work, schedule clients, take walk-ins, write invoices. Let them help people, tell them the truth they needed to hear, answer their questions and offer guidance. Let Oz explain the Equinox holidays from Vale, let Oscar work in the greenhouse and the garden out back. Let… let it all go back to normal. Before the draft, before the fall, before the Grimm activated.

A shadow drifted over him, and he looked up to see Pyrrha's fellow apprentice, Cinder. She said something, a dark whisper that Oscar didn't understand. Cinder frowned, eyes burning, and worked to repeat herself. "You don't deserve the power you have."

Oscar blinked slowly, a little confused by such a sentence. "It's pretty obvious I don't have a lot of power here," he said slowly.

A hand reached out and gripped his shoulder, squeezing, nails digging into his coat, making Oscar gasp in surprise. "You deserve to starve," she hissed, her voice gravelly and rough.

She let go suddenly, and left the apprentice room. Oscar rubbed his shoulder, pulling at his green coat slightly. What… what had that been all about?

As the day ended and the soothsayers were allowed to leave the workhouse, Marrow pulled him aside. "Look," he said, frowning heavily. "I don't… I'm off duty, now. Did you know that?"

Oscar frowned. "... No?" he said carefully.

"Well," he said, puffing up and putting his hands on his hips. "I never got orders to stop escorting you to the hospital," he said, nodding like he was convincing himself. "Yes, I definitely never got a change in orders. So to make up for missing taking you this morning I'm going to take you to see the professor now. It's off schedule, technically, but I already put in word to my CO and cleared it with the palace gates. Yes."

Oscar stared, wide-eyed, at the favor Marrow was doing for him. "... thank you," he said, looking down, suddenly shy.

"Uh, well. Let's get going before I lose my nerve," Marrow said, confidence collapsing completely. "We can at least get you in to let the professor know why you were out, and explain why the general is looking out for you. Come on."

Oscar followed gladly, glancing back only briefly to the workhouse, looking for Pyrrha. He saw Cinder, glaring at him from across the way, and he quickly turned away before she decided to start something again. Nobody questioned them at the stables, but the list of questions at the palace gates seemed to have tripled. Oscar and Marrow both had to get off their horses and be searched for… something, Oscar had no idea what, and they were told in no uncertain terms to be back promptly. No excuses.

"What was that about?" Oscar asked once they were on their way.

"The riots," Marrow said. "I guess someone's printing pamphlets and papers in the outer boroughs. There've been rumors for over a year that the Valean army has been pressing Mistralans into serving their front lines - I saw it myself before they reassigned me to the palace. But now someone has it in their head it's not a Valean invasion but some kind of Mistral rebellion. It's all a load of horse-filth, don't get me wrong, but everyone's so hungry this year and it makes them really gullible."

Oscar frowned, watching Marrow as they rode. He… didn't know? The soothsayers being kept in the dark, that made sense, Ironwood was already tightly controlling what they were exposed to, but his own soldiers…? Qrow's messages were always a little clipped and simplified, but he was very clear: it was rebellion. They had word from the other side of the mountain.

"... What if it really was a rebellion?" Oscar asked, trying to word this carefully. "What if all you're doing is fighting your own people?"

Marrow shook his head. "It would never happen," he said, utterly confident. "We'd all throw our arms down if we did. Remember all those vows we take at Midsummer? Serenity and peace are the most important ones."

"No," Oscar said slowly, working through the thought. "We work hard, work in serenity, work in peace, work in loyalty to the Imperial Court. Those are our vows. It's all about work. We promise to work - and serenity and peace just means we work without complaint." He looked down. "I've found a lot to complain about," he said. "I guess I'm not a good Mistralan."

"Oh, hey, no," Marrow said, reaching over in the saddle to pat Oscar's back. "Don't think so little of yourself. You're working as hard as everyone else - you're just working to show your principles at the same time. You pick some silly things to fight over, like the uniform, but you always make yourself very clear, and your choices very distinct."

"But that's the problem," Oscar said. "I shouldn't be standing up for myself, I should be doing exactly what the general says if I were a good Mistralan. I… I don't do any of that. It's exhausting, and I'm not out in the farmlands like I used to be. It's even harder there. Sometimes you just can't…" He shook his head. "If it's really a rebellion I believe it," he said.

"Well, don't you worry," Marrow said. "It's all just silly rumors and hearsay. Nothing will come of it. Spring will be in a few months, the passes will melt, and we'll show those Valeans they don't get to horn in on our territory."

Marrow didn't stop at the entrance of the infectious ward, but rather washed up with Oscar and followed him through the halls, pinching his nose repeatedly. "Even with a mask I still can't stand the smell," he muttered, "but I'll walk you to the door, make sure we get back on time, okay?"

Oscar nodded. "Marrow," he said, looking up to the officer. "... Thanks."

Oscar heard voices on the other side of the door to Ozpin's room, probably doctors or nurses. He hesitated, feeling irrationally nervous. He hadn't seen his father in two weeks. How was the fever? How was his knee? … How was Oz…? Would he be lucid again, would they be able to talk…? Would it be worse than he'd already experienced… how could it possibly be worse?

"I'm… I'm scared," he whispered, looking up to Marrow.

Marrow, in turn, smiled gently, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently. "You got this," he said softly. "I'll be right here if you need me."

Oscar nodded, and he took in a breath to hold it. Exhaling, he opened the door.

"... and what percent of the army is Valean?"

General Ironwood was there. In the room. Asking a question. Oscar stared, confused. Beyond him was Winter and Lady Fria, Fria at a sand table that had somehow been squeezed into the room, Winter next to her with paper in ink brush, copying the patterns. The hand on the other side of the reader was… was…

"... Oz?"

All three sets of eyes turned to him, but he only stared as the sand reader started to move, Ozpin's fever bright eyes glowing with magic and roving around the room, humming and moaning. This… this wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. This was a dream, Oscar was still in isolation and imagining the worst case scenario. Only this was worse than anything he had ever considered…!

"What are you doing?" he shouted, jumping forward and ducking under the general, reaching over Ozpin's bed and grabbing his hand off the reader, hastily putting his palm's to his father's to close the magic. Massive hands grabbed his shoulders and hoisted him off the bed. "Let me go!" he shouted, struggling.

"Oscar! What's wro-General Ironwood! What are you doing here?"

"Armin, what did you do?" Schnee demanded.

"Easy, all of you! Don't break my sand table!"

Oscar lifted his legs up to kick, useless with the general holding him from behind. He managed to plant one foot on the edge of the bed and he started to lift himself up, trying to break out of Ironwood's grip. Oz's bed slid to the side, into Lady Fria and making Ozpin hum and Oscar lose his balance. Something pulled in his shoulder and he grunted in pain, getting his feet on the floor and trying instead to twist. Schnee was there, however, adding her own hands to the hold and he was shuffled brutally out into the hall.

"Lieutenant, hold him down!"

Marrow tepidly put his hands on Oscar, even as he asked, "What's going on? I was bringing him down for a visit!"

"You were under no such orders," Schnee said in a low accusation.

"I didn't receive a change in orders!" Marrow said, his argument weak. "I thought I was still escorting him. I missed this morning so I arranged to do it after my duty."

"That's filth and you know it."

Oscar ignored it, ducking out of Marrow's weak grip and diving back into Oz's room. Lady Fria and the general were still there but Oscar worked his way to put himself between them and Ozpin. His eyes were glowing, his magic was open, and Oscar reached behind to put a hand on his father's body somewhere, trying to close the magic while so much of his attention was on Ironwood and the very concerned Fria.

"Stay away from him!" he said, panting and out of breath. "He never wanted to say the war!"

"What?" Fria asked, straightening, her eyes snapping to the general. "You said he changed his mind, James."

"When?" Oscar hissed. "When you took him from his apartment for a meeting that left him an overheated mess? When he fell down the stairs? When he was healing from his head injury? When he has active backbreaker? How could you do this to him? How could you go against his wishes like that? I thought you were his friends!"

"Oscar, honey, I'm sorry," Fria said quickly, lifting her hands in a placating gesture. "We got a message from the hospital that his fever was active. James said he barely survived last time."

"And that made this okay?" Oscar shouted.

"He's the greatest soothsayer of a generation," Ironwood said, eyes narrow, flat, lifeless. "We have to use every resource we have to end the war."

"He's not a resource!" Oscar shouted. "He's my father!"

Ironwood's eyes suddenly doubled in size and silence filled the room. Oscar finally could touch Oz's magic, and he worked to close it. He felt the heat of the fever through the blanket, Ozpin was burning to the touch, and Oscar was so very scared. "Please," he begged. "Using magic pulls so much out of us. Even using a reader, he's too weak to have his magic open. You're going… you're going to kill him. Don't…" His eyes watered, one traitorous tear leaking down his face.

Fria moved forward, reaching out to say something but Oscar flinched, afraid of what she would do. Afraid of what any of them would do. He was shaking, head to toe, but he would not move, he would not let them have access to Ozpin. He would not let them use him like that, violate him, rob him so totally of his agency and wishes and very health just to get a leg up in the war.

And then, finally, Ironwood:

"We're leaving."

"Yes," Oscar said, determined. "You are."

"You're coming with us."

"I don't work for you, James," Oscar said, defiant.

"Operative Schnee."

"Sir!" Schnee came in with a horrified Marrow.

"Sergeant Pine is under arrest for withholding vital information for the war effort. We're taking him back to the palace. You and Lieutenant Armin restrain him."

"Sir, you can't do that, sir," Marrow said, saluting. "He's a kid trying to see his… trying to see his father. He can't be held to blame for that."

General Ironwood turned dead eyes to Marrow. "Are you disobeying a direct order, Lieutenant?"

"Sir!" Marrow said, still saluting. "I joined the army because I thought I was doing the right thing. I wanted to help people around me. I wanted to be a hero. This… Sir this isn't helping people. This is hurting people. I didn't sign up for this."

"You signed up to follow orders," Ironwood said.

"Then I guess I'm not a good Mistralan," Marrow said, snapping out of his salute and putting his hands behind his back. Oscar stared, afraid to say or do anything. "But I'm not proud of this uniform right now."

Ironwood drew his pistol and leveled it to Marrow. Lady Fria outright shrieked, backing up and Schnee's eyes doubled in size. "Are you still refusing?" Ironwood asked.

Marrow gulped, sweat pouring down his face, shaking just as badly as Oscar. "Sir, yes, sir," he said.

Everything froze.

Then, behind Oscar, "... para… digm… shift…"

Oscar turned, seeing Oz's glowing eyes, his magic open again. Ironwood flipped his pistol around and cold clocked Marrow, sending his loyal soldier spinning to the floor. "You're under arrest for treason. Schnee."

"Yes, sir."

"James, are you out of your mind?"

"Major Fria, go back to the palace and let security know we have two breeches coming in. I'm sure the gate guards will love to explain how they allowed these two out into the city. Winter, escort Armin to the stockade. I'll handle the boy."

"James, this is a bridge too far. I don't care how bad the war is going you can't-"

"Are you disobeying a direct order, Major?" The pistol was still in Ironwood's hand.

"... No, sir," Fria said. She didn't salute as she left. Schnee bound Marrow's hands behind his back, dragging him to his feet. Marrow swayed, blood leaking down his temple, but he could walk and he and Schnee exited. That only left Ironwood; big, broad Ironwood, and Oscar between him and Oz. He turned, dead eyes taking in Oscar, who felt very, very small and very, very threatened.

"You didn't tell me he was your father," he said in a cold tone. "You said you were an orphan."

Oscar didn't say anything. What was the point? He leaned back, pressing against the bed. A burning, fevered hand managed to reach up and touch his wrist, holding it loosely. Oz… He took strength in that and kept his eyes on the general.

Ironwood sighed. "We'll talk more in the palace."

"No, James," Oscar said. "We won't."

Ironwood grabbed him, and really there was no hope. The general was twice Oscar's size and weight, a soldier presumably all his life with years of fighting under his belt. Oscar was a sixteen year old apprentice suffering months of mental and emotional strain, held against his will in the military and just exiting a two week stint of effectively isolation. Ironwood just lifted him off the ground, and Oscar twisted around, flailing to grab at his father.

"Oz, Oz it will be okay," he said, desperate as Ironwood started to drag him away. "It will be okay! I'll figure something out, I promise! You're not isolated, you're not miserable! I swear!"

He never figured out if Ozpin was lucid enough to understand him.

Author's Notes: Oooooo the drama, the betrayal, the plot!

There isn't much to comment on for Qrow's bit because mostly he's here to set things up for later. With Ren in the picture Nora now makes an appearance, with her the rebellion is in the city, everyone is starving, the soldiers most of all, etc. It's all necessary but it's all a little blah. Even with Ruby being a good niece in the beginning. We love her.

Oscar's bit has more meat to it: we finally draw a loose connection between Pyrrha, Cinder (props to the one person who guessed!) and Amber as their master. Pyrrha in particular, much like her seduction in Volume 3, is slowly shown by Oscar that there is a larger world - to believe in fairy tales if you would - and she's left with a difficult choice upon realizing that she has, in fact, made Grimm.

Oscar meanwhile sees the writing on the wall. He's pretty sure he and Oz are not going to survive this, and he begs for things to go back to normal. But of course, the great betrayal happens.

Up to now we've tried to play Ironwood as heavy handed but rational, able to be reasoned with. This is the abandoning Mantle moment, when Oscar realizes that Ironwood can't see the sayers as people but rather as resources, and has been telling the soothsayers that Oz was going to join the war effort before he fell down the stairs. And now with Oz at death's door, to get as much out of him as possible before he's gone.

Poor Oscar. And the worst hasn't even happened yet...

Next chapter: Qrow gets a message. This excites Ruby to no end.