Chapter Twenty-Five

"So it'll be tonight?" Qrow asked.

"Yeah," Robyn said with a nod. "Sun and Neptune just sent a crow up. They've snuck around behind the mountains and are positioned at the north gate. They'll sweep in at sunset, right at shift change, and push up the mountain. Everyone they've snuck into the city will take the south side and move up. They're hoping to take the palace by dawn."

"You really think it will be that simple?" Qrow asked. "You don't think there'll a mess of blood and fire?"

"I hope not," Robyn said, serious. "Everyone here has suffered enough. If the emperor is smart, he'll see everyone and hear our demands."

Qrow snorted. "I think it's pretty firmly established that he's not that smart. The Atlas general has his ear, too, and he's the opposite of reasonable."

"I know, shadow beard, I know," Robyn said, brushing it off. "Come on, let a girl hope for more than a minute."

Qrow raised his hands in supplication. "You know me," he said. "Bringer of bad luck."

And then Robyn smiled, lightly punching his arm. "Not all bad luck," she said. "You got the professor back."

"Yeah," he smiled. "Look, if things go bad tonight, the girls and me got a bolt hole part way up the mountain. Atlas burrough, right at the edge of the Vacuo block. Two of us at least will be there, and the doc from our building."

Robyn frowned. "You are expecting the worst. You know something I don't?"

"No," Qrow said, slouching forward. "But it sounds like a lot of people are going to make a lot of choices, and we all know some of those choices are gonna be bad."

"Hey, good luck tonight."

"Heh. I'm not the one leading a rebellion."

"Stuff it, bird brain."

Robyn left the apartment, and Qrow took a long, deep breath before going up to the aviary.

"It's gonna be tonight," he said to Ruby without preamble. "I want you here away from all the fighting up the mountain."

"But Uncle Qrow," Ruby started to say. He shushed her, pulling her into a soft hug.

"I want you safe, half-pint," he said into her hair. "Maria and Sergeant Starving will keep you safe. Valkyrie will probably come, too - you gotta watch her. She's a little flighty."

Ruby squeezed extra hard before pulling out of their hug, looking up at him and smiling so softly. She looked just like her mother. "I want you to be safe, too, you know," she said. "You have that wordy professor to take care of now."

"Hey, you know me. I'm a fighter."

Ruby hummed, swinging her arms slightly. "I think you're more of a lover, now. It's a good look for you. Don't worry, I'll watch the crows."

He nodded, taking two of the birds with him in case he needed them. One perched on each shoulder, he said his goodbyes to Maria, the blind old bat nonplussed even after everything.

"You get the professor and his son somewhere safe," she said. "Then get back here so I can yell at them. Imagine one of my tenants leaving me out in the cold for almost two seasons! That old coot is the only one who can keep a decent rhythm going up the stairs."

"I'll pass that on. Again."

Qrow made his way up the mountain, eyes on the Imperial Palace at the top of the mountain. He wondered where Oscar was in that compound. Blake hardly could get away anymore to relay information, only that it was bad. That his crows came back injured was proof enough of that. The skies were grey, it almost looked like snow except the scent wasn't in the air.

He worried about Oz's reading. Weiss had scared everyone with bringing a soldier into the bolt hole - the whiny pup that had escorted Oz up the mountain with the general. Marrow Armin had a massive white bandage on his head, and he said… well a lot. Qrow watched Oz's face grow darker and darker, but was never once surprised with the unbelievable news of the confrontation between Oscar, Marrow, and Ironwood. Qrow was incredulous for the entire tale, unable to believe that soft-spoken strip of a boy had such a spine, unable to picture the kid seeing Ironwood dragging readings out of Oz, and absolutely beside himself to hear the general had pulled a firearm on Marrow to make him follow orders. None of it blipped on Oz's radar, though, except for the occasional deep sigh.

"I was arrested for treason after that," Marrow said, looking down. "I couldn't…"

"You made your decisions," Ozpin said. "You did the right thing, even when no one else thought it was the right thing, and you inspired people in that room."

Marrow's green eyes doubled in size, and his back straightened. "The reading… You knew that was going to happen?"

"No," Ozpin said with a shake of his head, a blanket wrapped around his still too-thin shoulders. "Not the way that it did, and not with who was involved." His eyes drifted. "If I had…"

"... yeah," Marrow replied, looking down. "I guess… now I know why Winter snuck me out of the palace."

"Yes."

"I… don't know what to do now."

"For now," Ozpin said, "Stay here. We could use more than one fighter to defend this place if things go badly. Miss Yang shouldn't be expected to do the watch all day, and Qrow has other duties that pull him away, and for obvious reasons I'm in no condition."

That was the canine, Ozpin said that night with no small amount of worry, he had befriended the winter snow and now things would start to happen in rapid succession. Dr. Polendina and Penny arrived at the bolt hole, Ozpin calmly explaining Oscar would soon be arriving and in need of medical attention. What kind of medical attention, he did not know. Only that there would be "blood and fire," two words that absolutely did not go together. Qrow was left jittery, nervous, short with customers when he really couldn't afford it. Ruby's accent was almost completely hidden now - faster than Yang - and she was summarily left to deal with people. The crows sensed his agitation, swooping in to offer him trinkets and gifts to make him feel better, and he loved them for it but still unable to get that phrase out of his head.

Blood and fire.

He growled, pulling his eyes from the palace and focusing on the hike up the mountain.

Marrow was on lookout, just barely seen on the roof with the few extra inches of height he had on Yang. Inside his niece was in gi and zubon, fighting her shadow and proving that she was just as dangerous with one arm as she was with two. She'd grown so much in the last year, and he smiled in pride briefly before he moved deeper into the vacated house to find his lover. Ozpin was in his chair, cane in hand, rolling first one ankle and then the next, Penny supervising before he started to leverage himself up. He almost made it up before his legs gave out and he fell back into his chair.

"Very good," Penny said brightly, her speech much smoother now and less formal. "You almost made it that time!"

Ozpin nodded, concentrating. He tried again, failed again, and tried a third time. His cane shifted position, shooting out slightly, one arm out to prevent falling. Penny had her hands on either side of him, ready to catch, but though he swayed he didn't tip. He made a few small adjustments, and managed to stand straight, weight balanced on his good leg and his cane. Only then did he turn to Qrow, a bright smile on his face. "The hard part is over," he said with the casual gravitas that sent a pleasant shiver down Qrow's spine.

"If you want I can give you a different hard part," he teased.

Ozpin of course missed the innuendo, shifting his weight back and forth slightly. "I'm not used to the curve," he told Penny, pointing to the new deformities on his bad leg. "I feel it's weaker now."

Penny knelt down, studying. "We really won't know until you've gained more weight," she said after a pause. "But you've made amazing progress so far."

"Thank you for saying that," Oz said softly, nodding his head. "For how long should I stand?"

"How long do you think you can?"

"My leg can perhaps take my weight, but my grip is not yet strong enough to lean on my cane for much longer."

"Then let's sit you down for now," Penny said, placing herself in position as Oz slowly lowered himself back to his chair. He sighed in relief, leaning back and closing his eyes. Penny collected some things and moved to leave the room. Before she left she said, "I will now leave the two of you to continue your courtship."

"You what?" Qrow said, indignant.

"That is what Ruby said," Penny said brightly. "That you and the professor are in the introductory phase of your courtship. Please enjoy your time together."

Qrow leveled a flat gaze at his lover. "I'm pretty sure we're way past 'introductory,' Oz."

Ozpin smiled, straightening again. "Technically we aren't even courting yet, I have not returned your romance poem. Don't worry, by the way, I am working on it. Miss Penny has loaned me some books on Mistralan poetry. Then we'll be in the introductory phase, but Miss Ruby is perfectly in her rights to assume I've already returned it. Not everyone announces something like that."

"Brother of… just how complicated is love in Vale?" Qrow muttered, incredulous. "Why do you have to make it so complicated?"

"It's no more complicated than the family arrangements done here in Mistral - they are actually more complicated here than in Vale. In Vale we only have the two phases - the introductory phase and the familial phase. Here you have these intricate family trees to examine to prevent incest by… I believe it's called the Five Generations of Connection? Then there's introducing the pair, then there's supervised outings, then there's monetary negotiations, then there's…"

"Oz," Qrow said, dragging a hand down his face. "I don't care."

His lover smiled in good humor. "Yes, your only interest is in grinding herbs."

"Hey, I can still give you another 'hard part' like I said earlier."

There, Qrow caught the moment when Oz got the joke, and he laughed outright to see his lover turn such a bright shade of red. Red made him think of blood and fire, however, and his mood steadily dropped. He leaned forward and put his hand on the professor's knee. "Robyn stopped by," he said. "They're gonna attack tonight."

Oz's red cheeks immediately lost color, his warm brown eyes widening. "No," he said softly. "I wanted to be able to walk by the time Oscar…" He closed his eyes, sighing and shaking his head. "Very well. Tonight will be a very long night, and all of us will need to be at our best. I would suggest we rest until then. Would you be so kind as to suggest that to the others, and then join me in bed? I fear I won't sleep."

Qrow nodded, making no joke, and made the rounds in the house. Pietro agreed immediately, asking Penny to help him bed down. Yang nodded grimly, and Marrow offered to extend his watch until sundown to give everyone the time to rest. After that, Qrow went back to Oz's room. He'd graduated from the cot to a pallet on the floor, and somehow he had managed to make it there and was fighting his bad leg to get it under a blanket. He still suffered the cold, didn't have enough weight yet to know it was getting warmer out, and even as Qrow had the thought his lover shivered, finally sliding in and stretching out. Qrow pulled off his worn and stained aviary shirt, popping off his shoes and socks to join his partner.

"We should get you new clothes," Ozpin said lightly.

"After the heat," Qrow said. "Unless you want some heat now."

"No," Oz said, ever oblivious. "Just… hold me."

Qrow did.

No crow came back after sending his reply, but he had Oz's message, and it would bring him comfort for hours at a time. Time, however, was something he had trouble keeping track of. The days were long and monotonous, but Blake would tell him how long he'd been imprisoned and it felt like it flew by.

Well, until he was summoned.

It wasn't Blake, it wasn't Winter, it was two soldiers in Mistral brown, both with muskets slung behind their shoulders. His hands were tied behind him, and he was taken down the familiar hallway to the workhouse.

It looked different than before, the sand tables had been moved to the sides of the space, the soothsayers gathered in the middle, apprentices as well. At the far end, opposite the training closets, stood the general in his white long coat, arms behind his back. Servants were there, too, he saw Blake's eyes double in size at seeing him, lined up behind the sayers. What were they all doing here? Oscar was pushed in front of the general, the two soldiers taking position behind him.

"Sergeant Oscar Pine," Ironwood said. "Or should I say, Oscar Ozma? You stand before your unit charged with withholding vital information in the war effort. How do you plead?"

Oscar looked out over the soothsayers. The twelve-year old apprentice was hiding behind a master, Lady Fria holding her chest, Winter absolutely stoic. Everyone was shifting on their feet, some form of nervous, some outright scared. He could see, a little, what Blake had told him night after night. Something, someone, was about to break. He turned to study the general. Ironwood was perfectly composed, in command, dead-eyed with grey temples, beard fuller than ever.

Somehow, he felt calm. He wasn't sure why. Ozpin's message was in his waistcoat, at his chest, and somehow that made the general less scary.

"Not guilty," he said simply.

"Do you deny that you withheld your adoption by Master Ozpin Ozma?"

"No."

"Then you admit to withholding information."

"Yes," Oscar said. "But my father isn't important to the war effort. Therefore, not guilty."

"What is deemed important isn't decided by you," Ironwood said, stepping forward. "It is decided by high command."

"Meaning it's decided by you," Oscar said, not giving an inch. "So maybe the question is why you think my adoption is important to the war effort. What do you gain from knowing the professor is my father? I would have had more legal rights over him if I admitted it, I would have had more protection for him from you. But I chose to hide it. Why?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" Ironwood said, pitching his voice and making a sweeping gesture with his hand. "Why did you hide it?"

"I thought that would be obvious," Oscar countered. "I didn't want you to know."

Someone snorted in the crowd, half a noise before it was quickly aborted. Oscar held his breath, watching Ironwood very carefully. The silence drew out, awkward, before he moved on. "You also stand charged with disobedience," he said. "How do you plead?"

"Not guilty," Oscar answered. "I was drafted against my will to fight in a war I wanted nothing to do with. You said, when you came to claim me, that I wouldn't have to work with the war directly. That was a lie."

"No, it wasn't," Ironwood said dismissively.

"Yes it was, James," Oscar said. "You made that promise and didn't hold to it. You waited, I'll grant you that. You waited just long enough, but you always wanted me to say the war because I was Oz's apprentice. When I refused you banned me from seeing my father."

"Don't mince words and twist this around," Ironwood said. "You went AWOL at Midwinter Feast for ten hours."

"No, I was invited to spend Midwinter with Pyrrha. She and her mother and I decided to visit my father." Oscar glared at Ironwood. "Where is Pyrrha? She's not here."

"But you didn't tell anyone where you went," Ironwood said, ignoring him, taking another step forward.

Oscar interrupted. "Where is Pyrrha Nikos? You have everyone else here."

"Command had no idea where you were, anything could have happened." There was a bite to his voice, subtle but Oscar could hear it.

He ignored it again. "Pyrrha came to see you didn't she? She saw how limited and restricted I was and sought you out, didn't she?"

"We aren't discussing Pyrrha Nikos," James growled.

"What did you do to her, James," Oscar asked, looking Ironwood right in the eye. "What did you do when she came to see you?"

"You went AWOL, no word, no contact-"

"Why isn't Pyrrha here? You never let anyone leave-"

"-and with no word that endangers the command structure-"

"-you wouldn't just let her leave, not after everything she's seen with all your secrets-"

"-which is complete insubordination-"

"-I think you had Pyrrha killed."

Gasps. Around the room.

Ironwood glared. "Pyrrha Nikos returned home to her mother, who is sick."

Oscar took a slow breath. "The same way I'm able to return home to look after my father, who is hospitalized? You forget, James, that I don't work for you. You promised me I wouldn't soothsay the war, you promised me I'd visit my father every day, you promised me that you would respect the professor's and my decision to abstain from the war, but you didn't really mean any of those promises." Oscar turned and looked out to the soothsayers. "He's visited Ozpin since the war started - while he was still in the hospital for his first case of backbreaker. He's sent his operatives to the office since before Ozpin adopted me. He took Ozpin to see all of you, to show him how many of you he had working for him, to manipulate him into saying the war. The general only wanted one thing: the greatest soothsayer to make the war. Now Pyrrha, someone who questioned him, is gone."

"Don't get off the point," Ironwood said. "You refused to foll-"

"No, you're the one getting off point, James," Oscar countered, turning back to the big man. "You wanted the soothsayers because you think we can predict the future. That's the heart of your strategy, to trick us into giving readings that will give you the outcome you want. Your subordinates may be asking the questions, but you are the client, and you've found a way to force us into making Grimm after Grimm to make the war. The readings may give you quick victories, spare casualties here and there, but the price of interfering with the Brothers' patterns is inflicted on all of Remnant, and that's why the war has gone on as long as it has. That's why the army is on the other side of the mountain."

Another pause, and Oscar felt a trickle of sweat slide down to his temple. He wasn't sure where this was all coming from, he sounded like Oz, a professor lecturing an errant student. He was playing a dangerous game, he knew that: Ironwood was trying to make an example out of him in front of the other soothsayers to get… whatever he wanted out of them.

… Maybe that was why. Oscar refused to be manipulated by Ironwood, and he refused to let Ironwood manipulate the other soothsayers.

I want to see you garden again.

The message gave him strength.

"Hmph." Ironwood smiled in victory. Oscar was immediately nervous.

"And how do you propose you know all of this?" Ironwood asked. "How do you know about Grimm and making and the price it tolls from Remnant?"

Oscar frowned. Wasn't that obvious…?

"I did my research, James," he said, putting confidence in his voice even as he felt like he'd fallen for a trap.

"And how did you manage to do all that research?" Ironwood asked. "You've only been an apprentice for a year and a half, and making is usually taught in the fifth year of apprenticeship. Unless, of course," he said with a smile, "They have the gift."

Oh, Brothers.

"You're more than Ozpin's apprentice, more than his adopted son. You're his legacy. That's why he hid you from me. That's why you kept your head down for so long."

Oscar swallowed hard and hoped Ironwood didn't see it.

"Let's test that theory, then," Ironwood said, stepping back and giving another grand gesture. "Let's have a reading."

Four servants, Blake one of them, brought out Ozpin's sand reader, Ironwood sitting down on one side of it, gesturing for Oscar to do the same. He stayed where he was, not moving, not giving in to this game. Well, he did until his hands were cut free and the muskets were pressed into his back and he was forced to sit down. He heard a few gasps from the soothsayers, he risked glancing at them but his attention really had to be on the general.

"Now then," Ironwood said. "Tell me: how did Oz disappear from the hospital?"

This was the trap, then. If he did the reading for real he would give away Qrow, possibly even his father. If he refused, Ironwood would have a means to discredit him. He frowned, staring at the sand basin, trying to figure out what to do, if there was a third option to take.

"Oh, James, honestly."

Oscar's head swiveled to the side to see Lady Fria in front of the soothsayers, holding her chest. Ironwood looked, too, just as surprised.

"This is absolute nonsense," she muttered, just loud enough for her voice to carry.

That reminded Oscar of something, and he turned to the general. "Well?" Ironwood asked. "How did Oz disappear from the hospital?"

"I have a question, too," Oscar said. "Why did you lie to Lady Fria about my father's consent? Why did you tell her that Ozpin wanted to soothsay the war and then bring her to the hospital to make him do readings while delirious with fever? Actually, how many masters did you bring over to make Oz read the war against his wishes? Did you know that draining his magic like that put his health at risk, or did you just not care about the life of someone you told me over and over was a friend?"

There, the calm facade broke, and a dark frown bled through his beard.

"You were AWOL a second time," he said, and the anger in his voice was obvious to anyone.

"I wasn't AWOL," Oscar corrected. "Lieutenant Marrow Armin was my escort, same as he was every day I was allowed to see my father. We checked in with the palace gate, submitted to searches, and he even followed me into the infectious ward even though he hated the smell - just to make sure our return was punctual. You arrested him for treason because he refused to comply with my arrest when you learned Ozpin was my father."

That was new information, and it rippled through the soothsayers, the bright and positive lieutenant a pleasant fixture in the workhouse for months.

"Do you remember how you got me to admit Oz was my father?" Oscar asked. "You said you would use every resource available to stop the war."

"And I meant every word," Ironwood said.

"Then you meant it when you said you saw Ozpin, your dear friend, as a resource?"

Ironwood slammed a fist onto the table, the sands shifting slightly and several people in the crowd startling at the act of violence. He stood, Oscar doing the same for fear of being trapped in his seat and taking two steps back. "An excellent, philosophical point," the general retorted, "That won't matter if this war keeps going on. What matters now is stopping the war, it's our duty to end it as quickly as possible - that's the role of a soldier! A duty you have refused, over and over, debating semantics, quibbling over uniform and thinking yourself above regulation. I gave you everything you wanted, and not once have you been grateful."

"Grateful?" Oscar asked, incredulous and his voice rising in pitch to match the general. "For what? Using my father as leverage to get what you wanted? I'm not a solider, James, none of us here are, but you keep treating us like soldiers, as if we can produce the results you want instead of guiding you to a truth you need to hear. Have you ever listened to a reading you were given? Did you listen to Oz when he said if you waged a war that wasn't yours you would lose your heart? Look at where we are! You're throwing your weight around, caging the soothsayers to the point where they can't even go outside without an escort, assaulting soldiers who make principled refusals of your orders, forcing the sayers to make Grimm, and thinking of us as nothing more than resources. How should anyone in this room be 'grateful' for what you've put us through?"

"I gave you everything!"

"And you have conditions to every gift you thought you gave, James - which means it wasn't a gift it was a transaction, and that's all we are to you."

Ironwood was towering over him, standing at his full height and eyes bulging. Oscar leaned back, more than slightly afraid of what would happen next but also more than slightly angry that the general couldn't see what he was trying to say. He kept his back straight as much as he could but he couldn't quite hold back a small squeak as Ironwood used his height to his advantage in his intimidating glare.

"I'm done listening to people who can't grasp the bigger picture," Ironwood said. "The emperor, the advisors, Oz, even you."

Oscar sighed. "... then you're as dangerous as the soothmaker who started the war, James."

Another pause, pregnant with weight, all the soothsayers and servants watching in mute horror and fascination. Oscar didn't know what else he could say, there was no way the soothsayers would help the general now, not after seeing what he was really like. Would he imprison all of them? What about the sand readers? Would he refuse to feed them their rations, bring them before the emperor? What more could the general do?

"James, is what my friends call me," Ironwood said, voice eerily calm, low. Dead. "To you, it's General."

He pulled out his pistol and fired.

Pain exploded in his side, a spurt of blood spraying out and Oscar watched in fascination as the drops seemed to hang in the air, time frozen, everything stopped. Then, the eerie sensation of tipping. The next thing he knew he was on the floor, looking up at the carved ceiling and screaming because he was in so much pain, clutching at his side and twisting and twitching, trying to make the pain stop.

There was other screaming, too. More than just his, he could hear myriad voices over his own cries, all genders.

"Stand down!"

"He shot him!"

"He shot him!"

"Don't make another move!"

"We have to get out of here!"

"Stop or we'll shoot!"

"I can't stay here! I want to go home!"

"Master, where are you?"

"Open fire!"

There was a volley, the explosive sound of muskets and the smell of smoke; it broke through Oscar's senses briefly as he twisted on the floor, trying to shy away from the pain.

"Oscar, Oscar!"

Blake, in her servant ruqun, entered his field of vision. He almost didn't recognize his name over the noise, but she placed her hands on either side of his face and turned him slightly one way, then the other. He followed with his eyes, his breathing all over the place, as she leaned in close.

"Breath," she said, insistent. "Oscar breath for me."

He tried to suck in a breath, but he only filled his lungs halfway before his core erupted in fire and he had to cough, which was infinitely worse.

"Get the general out of here!"

"Send reinforcements!"

"Open fire!"

"But sir, they're unarm-!"

"That's an order!"

"Don't listen," Blake said, catching his eyes again. "Don't listen, just breathe. We're going to get you out of here."

He gave a weak nod, surprised he was somehow able to manage it, and Blake looked up, turning to something and motioning with a hand. Amber and Lady Fria became visible, Fria coughing through the smoke - smoke? - and the three of them talked. Oscar tried to focus but the noise was too distracting. So many people were shouting, so many people were running - he could feel the pounding of feet on the floor and it reverberated with the sinking hole of suffering that was his side. He took another breath, remembering Blake had told him to breathe. It was no good, however, he couldn't get a good breath, and he had to keep it shallow and harried so he could at least pretend to function.

Then something pressed into his side and auuuugh! It hurt so much!

A hand clamped over his mouth, Blake filling his vision again, slightly blurry this time. She was saying something, but he couldn't hear it enough to understand it; there was a high pitched ringing in his ears and the smell of smoke and so many sensations crashing through his body. He tried to concentrate, tried to understand what was going on. Oscar turned his head slightly, saw Oz's sand table overturned and rolling slightly to the side. People were running, heads down and arms up, the universal sign of ducking, why were they ducking? Then a burst of fire - muskets. That was the cause of the smoke. Why were muskets firing, they were in the palace…?

"Oscar, Look at me!"

He did, finding Blake again and watching her smile in something like relief.

"This is going to hurt," she said, and then suddenly he was pulled into a sit up and nothing but agony followed. He grunted, having blown out his voice long ago maybe, and tried to go back to the floor where he was at least mildly acclimated to the pain. Hands were on his shoulders, though, gently refusing his decline.

"On three. One, two…"

Oscar was lifted off the floor and the rapid change in elevation made everything spin. He lost all sense of everything other than the unreal sensation of his feet hanging out in open air, flopping around without control like he was a baby. When he could finally see straight he realized his head was on his chest. He could see the source of pain now: an ugly, angry red stain right below his ribs, above his hip. He stared, fascinated, as blood splurted out. That had come from inside him…

His vision greyed out and maybe he shouldn't be looking. Something shifted and his head tilted back.

Blake. Blake was holding him, yellow gaze intense. The hallway - they were in a hallway, oh - was very dark, and he realized the noise had all gone away. That was nice, he liked the quiet better. It reminded him of the farm, the sound of insects and playful wind, the scent of rain and the feeling of earth on his hands.

I want to see you garden again.

"... Oz…"

"Oscar, please, you have to stay awake," Blake said, her voice shaky.

Oscar put in more effort, forcing his eyes open - when did they close…? - and watched her. Others were here… right? He remembered seeing… people…

"Oh, my heart can't take much more of this."

Lady Fria. Yes. Lady Fria and Amber. Muskets firing and-! What was happening?

Oscar stirred, trying to get his loose feet under him, hearing but not processing a frantic, "stay still!" before the effort was too much. His side was on fire, why was he trying to move again? Memory was a struggle.

The snap of cold air shocked him, and he gasped, immediately regretting it as his side burned like fire. He could see torches, they looked like fireflies in summer. Shadows were deep here, his spatial awareness didn't make sense to him. Lady Fria was coughing again, and that was strange. She was always so healthy and energetic. One of the fireflies came really close, it looked big enough to be a torch. Someone was shouting, but really far away.

Well, everything was starting to feel far away. He was really tired. And really cold. The spring air wasn't - no. Fireflies. It was summer. No… what…?

"Oscar!"

Awake. Yes. He had to stay awake.

The seasons kept changing, first it was chill air then it was summer heat. It confused him. Light and dark vied alternately for his attention, as if the Brothers were dancing in tune with the rapid temperature changes. Which holiday did that? One of the equinoxes Oz celebrated?

"There they are!"

"After them!"

"The city's on fire!"

"What are palace soldiers doing out here?"

"Get them! Show them what a revolution looks like!"

"Amber!"

Everything tumbled, even Oscar, and Brother of Light and Dark why did it all hurt so much? He groaned, rolling maybe.

"Keep going! Get him out of here!"

"But Lady Fria…!"

"Go!"

"Come on Oscar," Blake said. "You have to help me."

He almost didn't understand the sentence, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be helping with. Was he doing a reading? Blake looked so upset. It must be a bad reading.

"Come on, take my hand!"

Right… Atlesian palmistry. It helped with accuracy. Oscar reached up, surprised at how heavy his arm felt, but Blake took it and wrapped it around her shoulders. No… that wasn't how it was supposed to work… She lifted, Oscar's elevation changing. This time his feet stayed on the ground, though. That was nice. They dragged though, and he couldn't figure out why. He tried to lift one up, but could only make it shift forward a few inches.

"That's right, Oscar. You're doing great."

But he was so tired, he felt like the morning after a full moon harvest, working by the Dark Brother's shattered moon and left with nothing when the sun rose. He didn't want to harvest for a week.

I want to see you garden again.

Oz…

He had… to get… to… Oz…

Author's Notes: ... Not really much to say here. The chapter speaks for itself :)

Next chapter: Qrow, revolution, war, and of course blood and fire.