Chapter Thirty-Six
Much… much… much later, Ozpin was being cleaned up by his lover with damp towels and significantly softer kisses. The anxiety of the negotiations had finally reappeared, and Ozpin dressed in his best clothes: black slacks and jacket, a green turtleneck he'd had for over a decade that had been gifted to him by the Headmaster of Haven, to hide one of his new lovemarks, a darker green waistcoat to place his pocket watch. Combing his hair was always a little fruitless with all of his cowlicks but most of it fell in a semblance of order.
Oscar had twice cleaned his office pants and his warmest linen shirt for the autumn air and a similarly colored waistcoat. His jacket was a light brown purchase from consignment. He kept his cane with him, twisting it in his hands as a sign of his nerves. Qrow meanwhile had also been to consignment, none of his crowmaster clothes clean enough for the imperial palace. Over his stained linens were slate grey slacks and shirt, a dark brown waistcoat that he glared at and a red jacket. He had refused to shave, and his scruff and streaked hair made him stand out in a way Ozpin had never noticed before. His cheeks heated, making him blink and turn away as he limped out of the apartment.
The others, sans Blake and Marrow, were outside and dressed in their best, Weiss having provided a single horse carriage. Ozpin worked his way into the carriage, Oscar already inside and the others following suit.
"Klein," Weiss said, "Take us to the Belladonnas, please."
"Certainly, milady," the chauffeur said, flicking the reins.
The ride up the mountain was quiet, Ruby and Yang fidgety, Oscar staring out the window, one of Qrow's knees bouncing up and down. Ozpin closed his eyes and centered himself, taking slow, deep breaths.
His heart floated high above him, greedily looking over his spur of the moment proposal and all the loving details that had happened thereafter. His stomach, however, had dropped below his feet to know that, like when he had confessed his love to Qrow last year, he had triggered the Grimm. Worse, he had triggered it mere hours before the negotiations had started - that had been foolish beyond reason, and he wasn't certain if it was possible to feel more dread. His hand snaked over to his son, holding his hand as he watched Qrow across from him, drinking in every detail and committing it to memory.
He loved the small things, the way light reflected in Qrow's eyes, the soft fuzz of his day-old scruff, the shape of his wrists and the strength of his hands. The omnipresent curses were sometimes off putting, but most times they echoed a sentiment Ozpin was too controlled to release, he had the miraculous ability to put words to feelings Ozpin couldn't.
Qrow may have guarded his heart but he did not guard his actions: impulsive and protective, quick to put himself in front of perceived danger and quick to check after those he allowed close to him. Insecure, yes, ignorant of his own value, certainly, but under all those rough edges and abrasive curses he still chose Ozpin.
His gaze slid over to his son, and his heart lifted even higher into the air. A last-ditch impulse in his darkest moment, choosing to adopt instead of finally disappearing - Oscar had been an act of desperation, unable to break out of his loneliness but still flailing to reach out. Oscar had done more than take his hand, he had done so much just by being there. The simple act of having someone to look after - a small child who got colds and mourned his own losses, someone as uncertain of his future as Ozpin. The very act of waking up and knowing someone needed him.
Now he was a young man, a gifted sayer with as much magic as Ozpin, able to see the Pattern, able to survive the draft and the war and return wounded but unbroken. Thoughtful, considerate, a veritable sponge soaking up all his training. And a fellow soothsayer! Ozpin had never thought he would find another like him - a soothsayer of such a deep well of magic. It was better than having a university student, he had a son, someone to share his most wild theories and then turn around and find patterns before he had even finished his apprenticeship.
Qrow may have chosen Ozpin, but Ozpin's choice of Oscar had changed the very course of his life for the better, and he wanted the best for his son.
If he survived the day…
If he survived at all…
He would spend the rest of his life happy with Qrow.
He would spend the rest of his life proud of Oscar.
He loved them both so very much, he wanted to keep living, and he would not have said that almost four years ago.
There was a building three quarters up the mountain, an old market that had been repurposed as a temporary government building to manage the healing of the city. The revolutionary green tangzhuan were everywhere, the color of the patrol. Inside the green was replaced with Mistral brown. Marrow was there, saluting and escorting them inside. More than a few of the higher ups came out to shake Ozpin's hand, thank him for his work as a soothsayer, asking to schedule readings later. In a nondescript back room were the Belladonnas, Blake in what Ozpin assumed to be traditional garb of Menagerie. Miss Hill was there, too, a bright smile on her face.
"Thank you for bringing the soothsayers to our attention," Ghira said in his rich, rumbling voice. "Your kind are greatly valued on Menagerie, and it's hurt in the last weeks to learn what you have been subjected to over the last several years."
"Thank you for answering a simple professor's plea for help," Ozpin said, bowing his head. "I know you and the others are doing so much."
"The sooner the soothsayers are out of the hands of the general the better," Kali said. "I've no doubt after Miss Hill's reporting they've been used to drag these negotiations out longer than they should have."
"We have gifts," Blake said, pulling out simple packages wrapped in brown paper and twine. "With winter coming, and knowing how cold the palace is, we wanted to make sure you were comfortable today."
"Oh," Oscar said, opening the package and pulling out a green overcoat. "This is like the one from…"
"I know," Blake said with a smile. "I know how much you liked it."
Oscar shrugged into the revolutionary-green overcoat, finding a pair of faded orange gloves that he put on immediately. Ozpin's overcoat was a darker green, almost emerald in color, and he couldn't imagine when someone had time to get his measurements, it fit across his shoulders perfectly. The gloves were black, and on closer inspection everything was held together with gold thread. One lapel had the embroidered design of a honey dipper crossed with an ear of maize, set against a maple leaf. "This coat is Valean," he said softly, looking up in surprise.
Ghira nodded. "You are a third party negotiator," he said. "We want to make that clear to the general. You are negotiating on behalf of soothsayers, not Mistral, and we wanted that distinction clear. Your apprentice is Mistralan, however, hence the sage green and the work gloves. Messaging is important in negotiations, and that includes visual notes as well."
"I understand," Ozpin said, running his fingers over the wool. The dark green was a perfect match for his turtleneck, and he tugged at it nervously - he hadn't worn clothing this well made in years.
They were led outside to a different carriage - not Weiss'. It was open air and had four horses, enough seats for eight people plus the driver. This was the Midsummer carriage, he realized - the one that gave the birth announcements and collected the children for baptisms. The height of the carriage was too much, Qrow had to help him up, and this time Qrow sat next to him, arms crossed and slowly closing himself off, Yang and Marrow doing the same as they folded into the roles of protectors. Ruby's gaze slowly set, too, silver eyes glancing up at the crows who were following them in the air. Ozpin realized belatedly that both Marrow and Yang were armed - Marrow with a musket and bandolier, Yang with a revolver at her hip, paired with a baton.
Nerves started to build up again, and Ozpin threw his eyes to his son, sitting across from him. Oscar was nervous, too, his breath shallow and his gaze far away. Ozpin reached forward, gripping his son's knee, and watched him snap back to the present.
"I'm scared," he whispered.
"... so am I," Ozpin said. "At least we can be scared together."
Oscar gulped, but he nodded, putting his hand on Ozpin's. They held each other that way as they rode up the mountain, past the imperial gate and through to the imperial palace. Ozpin had never seen the massive courtyard empty - the last time he had been there it had been filled with officials and dignitaries and secretaries and the like. His eyes lifted up to the four gates of the square: serenity, honor, balance, and peace.
Blake, the highest rank among them, took the lead, Yang and Marrow fanning out and marching in step. They passed under the gate of peace to the imperial palace itself, up the massive, ornate entrance of the palace where two Atlesian soldiers guarded the grand doors, opening them to announce the lady Belladonna and her entourage. They were all searched thoroughly, Ozpin uncomfortable with how close two of the guards came. Oscar took it all with bored dignity, and a glance up told Ozpin this was normal. Qrow was glaring daggers as his knife was removed, as were Marrow and Yang's weapons. Ozpin put a hand at his lover's elbow, silently reminding him that decorum was everything.
After that they were through the main hall, the ceilings towering up over them and through a hidden door, down a series of more mundane corridors. Ozpin watched his son carefully, and saw the moment he recognized where he was. He unconsciously moved closer to Ozpin, and he put a hand on his shoulder as he limped along, seeing Oscar begin to match his stride.
There were - perhaps of course - stairs.
"I know where we're going," Oscar said softly as the others started climbing. "This is the command wing. The general, he's going to be up there, there's a round table and a desk."
Ozpin hummed. He, too, had been in a room with a round table. The stairs were slightly steeper than at home, Ozpin had a harder time gauging how high to hop. The others milled around the top of the stairs, Qrow standing religiously at his side and giving him the space to climb on his own power. Oscar was now pressed close to Blake, who had also traveled these halls, trying to stick close to safe people. At both of their backs was Yang, fierce looks at the Atlesian soldiers who tapped their toes, waiting for Ozpin.
Ozpin grunted as he missed a step, Qrow catching his shoulders before he tipped, and took several seconds to breath, but eventually he made it up the stairs. His bad knee ached as they moved down another hall. He could catch the scent of smoke damage just barely in the air, and he realized the fire from that night had been near here. Oh, Oscar. He reached out, gripping his son.
The room was exactly as Oscar described, and as Ozpin remembered. The space was large, the circular table enormous. A map of Mistral was laid out, and atop it a map of Haven. Beyond was a desk, cluttered with files and books and papers, and standing in front of the desk was General Ironwood, long white coat and arms locked behind his back.
"General," one of the soldiers said. "Lady Blake Belladonna, daughter of the Faunus Honorum, here with a party to negotiate."
"Thank you, Major," Ironwood said. His temples had gone more grey, Ozpin noticed, in the time since he'd last seen him. His eyes were tired. "Perhaps a round of introductions are in order. You've certainly brought a large party, Lady Belladonna."
"General," Blake said with a polite curtsey. "I have with me Professor Ozpin Ozma, Master Soothsayer, former Head of Research at Haven Academy, Professor of Soothsaying at Beacon Academy, student of the King of Vale. With him are his apprentice, Young Master Oscar Pine and his assistant Crowmaster Qrow Branwen. With Master Branwen is his apprentice, Young Master Ruby Rose. To represent business perspective is Miss Weiss Schnee, finishing student of Sanctum Academy and heiress to the Schnee conglomerate. For protection we have Colonel Marrow Armin, formerly of the Army of Mistral and currently of the Revolutionary Militia, guard of the government building, and Captain Yang Xiao Long, formerly of the Valean Defense Guard, daughter of Senator Taiyang Xiao Long, former guard of the Valean Peace Treaty Negotiation Team, and Valean Advisor to the Revolutionary Militia."
"Quite a list of titles," Ironwood said. His eyes flicked to Qrow. "A crowmaster as an assistant to a master soothsayer?"
Ozpin held his breath as Qrow smirked. "Building elected me to make sure he could make it up and down the stairs and not move around too much," he said. "It was either me or Leo."
Ironwood's eyes narrowed. "There are better qualified people-"
"But none that I trust," Ozpin said quickly before his lover could offer spite. "Master Branwen has been very conscientious since my return home, and his help is the only reason I am walking right now."
James' eyes softened, his blue eyes looking more like they used to as they traveled up and down Ozpin. "You look better," he said softly.
"By all accounts that is a miracle," Ozpin said. "If you please, I cannot stand for long periods of time."
"Of course," the general said, nodding crisply and gesturing. "As you get comfortable, let me introduce my negotiation team: Operative Winter Schnee of the Atlesian military, the special operatives branch, and also Soothsayer. Soothsayer Cinder Fall. Lieutenant Colonel Arther Watts of the Atlesian military, Intelligence branch. Captain Tyrian Callows, imperial guard and voice of His Imperial Majesty during these negotiations. Master Jacques Schnee, head of the Schnee conglomerate."
Everyone nodded and took their seats. Ozpin - like last time - sat across from the general at the round table. Oscar was to his right, Qrow standing behind him, and Blake to his left. On either side of them were Weiss and Ruby, Yang and Marrow taking positions similar to Qrow behind the chairs. James had young Cinder Fall on one side and Captain Callows on the other.
"With introductions complete we must now express our respective goals of this negotiation," Blake said. She turned to Ozpin.
"My desire is very simple," he said gently, holding Ironwood's gaze. "I would like all soothsayers currently detained here to be released of their own recognizance back to their original practices and no longer be required to work for employees, advisors, or members of the Imperial Palace, its court, and its offices."
"Given that no soothsayer is actually detained," Ironwood said, "It seems your request has already been made."
"The experiences of my apprentice and the condition he was in upon his return allude to direct contradiction of that statement," Ozpin said, deliberately erudite. "But first, please allow my side to state our case. Miss Schnee, if you would."
Weiss stood in her rich Atlesian blue skirt and jacket, opening a folder and giving a presentation of three dozen interviews conducted of business owners, articulating their desire for the return of the soothsayers and how good they were for business as well as their personal lives, the value they brought to their work. There was also reader reception to Miss Hill's article series, letters that had been sent in to the printing shop to express concern - detailed accounts of the protests after the article about the Plight of the Soothsayers. She followed up with the pay differential, that soothsayers were working below their worth in the palace and would be in debt upon release as it was.
Her father Jacques Schnee had a counter to every argument she made - having his own reports from General Ironwood and other military officials listing statistics for lives saved as a result of the soothsayers, testimonials of soldiers who had readings and saw victory, the value they brought to the war effort.
Something in Ozpin was moving. He frowned, turning inward, wondering what he was sensing - a tugging sensation? He leaned to the side, covering his mouth and whispering to his son. "Do you sense something?"
Oscar shook his head. "Do you?" he asked, mouth barely moving.
"I'm not sure," Ozpin said. "I suggest keeping your magic open - not all of it, just enough for insight." Then he leaned to his other side to talk to Blake.
She was already leaning over, "He was prepared for testimonials," she whispered behind her hand. "This negotiation is going to be about personality, I think."
"I suspected as much," he said.
Schnee sat down at the end of his presentation, and Blake spoke again. "These facts are not lining up," she said, "in the sense that soothsaying is a valuable profession and both sides deeply desire soothsayers to their respective sides. Perhaps instead we should discuss why each side values the soothsayers. General Ironwood."
"Miss Belladonna," Ironwood said. "Ever since the war with Vale started I've known that the soothsayers would be the key to success or failure. Even before Mistral called in the Generals of the Round Table, I was fielding soothsayers to see who would be interested in ending the war before it became a problem. When General Sleet was retired and I was read in I immediately asked His Imperial Majesty permission to utilize soothsayers to keep losses to a minimum. Since then every battle Mistral has engaged in has reported twenty percent fewer losses than any other war Atlas has advised. Soothsayers are a vital part of the war effort, especially now with rebellion at our doorstep."
"Master Ozma?"
"My concern is for Remnant," Ozpin said, taking a breath to collect his thoughts. "Like any craftsman, a sayer has specific needs that must be met, but unlike craftsmen there are taboos that must not be crossed lest there be consequences wrought not only on the sayer but on the very world of Remnant itself. There is a difference, general, between soothsaying and soothmaking. To say is to read the sands and explain the series of choices to the client and advise them on the choices that grant them the best possible outcome - a phrase you latched onto in my lectures more than once - but the choices still rest on the client to perform. To make is to create a desired outcome, and that is beyond our right. That is the realm of the Brothers, and a toll is extracted to tread their domain. To make is to create a Grimm, to create a Grimm is to create a curse, to create a curse is to damage the very nature of Remnant itself. You worry about the war effort, the rooted conflict between the revolution and the imperial court. I worry about the damage all this making has done to not only the war, not only Mistral, but to all of Remnant."
"This isn't a philosophical debate, Oz," Ironwood said, eyes cold. "We are dealing with real people, real events."
"Yes we are, James," Ozpin countered. "The difference is that you are not looking at the bigger picture."
James' eyes widened at the statement, and he felt Oscar snake his hand to his elbow to see the reaction. He pulled one hand under the table, tracing down to his son's to hold it. The fingers were warm, his magic was open. Ozpin felt another tug, in his chest, and he put the thought aside.
"That's a fine thing to say," Ironwood said, "Given that you were the first one to say the war."
That was meant to be a dig, a statement to get under Ozpin's skin, make him question what James was referring to, but Winter's visit prior had already pointed out this particular fact, and James couldn't play the card successfully.
"If you are referring to my delirious ramblings with my first bout of backbreaker," he said, "Then you are sorely mistaken. To read a pattern one must first ask a question, anything I may or may not have said would have been random, uncorroborated, and in delirium. Unless, of course, you tried to ask me a question during my fever. I did not think you were the type of person who would use a dear friend so close to the brink of death, but I have the very clear memory of you doing so just that this spring. I knew you were unbending, James, but I did not think you capable of dehumanizing a formerly close friend."
"You're still my friend, Oz," Ironwood said, his eyes softening. "I worried myself sick - both times. I wanted you to survive, you're too great a soothsayer to lose."
"Oh, James," Ozpin said. "Therein lies the bout of contention - you don't see me as a person or even as a friend. You see me as an idol to follow and gain advice from, the mythical title of greatest soothsayer of a generation. You see only my titles, my standing, my value as a soothsayer."
"Don't do that," Ironwood said. "Don't pass off your accomplishments as if they're nothing to you."
"James," Ozpin said, "They are nothing to me. All the renown you place on me, all the accolades, all the awards and prestige, none of it has made me happy. I have spent my life isolated and miserable, unable to connect with those around me because so few could see beyond those titles. I was placed on a pedestal I did not ask for, expected to be this great sage of wisdom when I am a mere mortal. All I can do - all any soothsayer can do - is read the patterns of a question and give advice on how to proceed."
Ironwood shook his head. "You always do that," he said. "You always sell yourself short."
"No," Ozpin countered. "Instead I understand the limit of what I can do. I am not a miracle worker, James. I cannot predict the revolution for you, and by this point it is a moot. The revolutionaries have control of over seven parts in eight of Mistral, including over ninety percent of the city. The war is over, you must come to terms with that and let Mistral decide its own affairs. The time for Atlesian interference and annexation is over."
"The emperor says differently."
"The emperor is dead, James, and everyone at this table knows that."
Ironwood's eyes widened again, and Cinder Fall and Captain Callows both turned surprised gazes to the general, the statement rippling through the other side. Ozpin heard a satisfied snort from Qrow behind him, and he felt another tug in his chest. His magic drew his eyes to the soothsayers opposite him, Cinder Fall and Winter. Winter's eyes were down, her face closed off; he could feel Weiss' concerned gaze. Miss Fall drew more attention, something about her gold eye burned, something about her shoulders and her posture. He couldn't put his finger on it, yet. He glanced at Oscar, wondering where his insight was leading him, and his son was staring hard at the captain, Tyrian Callows.
"What makes you think the emperor is dead?" Ironwood asked.
"The fire," Oscar said softly, speaking for the first time. Ozpin turned his gaze to his son, saw how straight his back was. "After you… after you shot me, the palace caught fire. The emperor's quarters were near the workhouse. Captain Callows, he's not actually the voice of the emperor here."
Ozpin expected a freeze, perhaps another ripple on the other side of the round table. He expected a setback, Callows caught and trying to look indiscreet. Instead, the captain burst out laughing, dark braid flicking up and over the back of his chair. The laughter echoed out over the room, Ozpin's side of the table shifting. He could just make out Marrow's fists tighten, his stance widening, and he sensed Qrow behind him doing something similar.
"I told you they were smarter than that," Callows said once he was done with his massive guffaw. "A pair of sayers as powerful as those two?" He stood, fingers steepled and bowed in a way that could only be described as condescending. "Well done, you two, well done. I am Captain Tyrian Callows, of course, and still an imperial guard - I guard his most valued treasure, a duty I take very seriously. The good general asked me to come here thinking he could still pretend that old fart was still alive. I told him if he thought he could slip that past a sayer as grand as you, well, he was certainly out of his mind." He laughed again, giddy to the point of inappropriate. He stepped back, still smiling, and took a guard position behind the general.
Ozpin felt the tug again, harder, deep in his chest, and he tried to put it aside to focus on Ironwood as Blake started to speak.
"This is an act of bad faith," she said, struggling to stay calm. "You came to the negotiations under deception. That's not how both parties can resolve their conflict."
Ironwood's gaze flicked to her. "If that's true, then there is deception on your side, also," he said, leaning forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Unless you just forgot to list yourself as a former servant of this palace? A spy for the rebels?"
Blake stiffened, and Ozpin saw Yang step forward. This would wildly get out of hand if Ozpin didn't intercede. He pushed past the tug at his heart and opened his mouth.
"It was not an act of bad faith," Ozpin said. "Miss Belladonna volunteered to be the mediator of this negotiation in lieu of her parents specifically because of her intimate knowledge of the plight of the soothsayers here in the palace. She is specially qualified to monitor this conversation as a result of that. And it is past time we talked about how the soothsayers have been treated."
"Oz, you don't know how the soothsayers have been treated," Ironwood said. "You were unconscious and delirious in the Higanbana."
"I wasn't," Oscar said softly. "Neither was Blake. Neither was Winter, or Cinder, or anyone else who survived that night."
"Your word is automatically suspect, Sergeant Pine," Ironwood said, "Given your record of insubordination and deception."
"James," Ozpin said, his voice low.
"No, Oz, I don't know what your boy told you, but he was a constant disruption, flouted regulations, defiant; he went AWOL twice, and he withheld vital information to the war effort."
Ozpin squeezed his son's hand before he opened his mouth to defend himself - Oscar was more than capable of course, that much was obvious, but it was past time Ozpin started acting like a father instead of a master.
"I was there the night he was returned," Ozpin said, leaning forward. "I saw Miss Belladonna covered in his blood, barely able to walk, having to carry him because he was unconscious. I saw him covered in blood, hip to foot. I watched his bullet fever, I helped his doctor clean out the massive hole in his side, I taught him how to stand and how to walk, I watched him climb stairs. Whatever you accuse my apprentice of, James, nothing whatsoever could justify you shooting him."
Ironwood worked his jaw, closed his eyes, and took a deep, deep breath through his nose.
"Oz," he said, and his tone was different. Softer, more empathetic. "Oz, I was trying to look out for him. I knew how important he was to you, and now I know even more how close you two are. I don't blame you for being protective of him, I know I can be brusque when I want something."
Qrow snorted behind him and Ozpin motioned him to be quiet.
"But Oz, Sergeant Pine doesn't have your integrity. He lied about the nature of your relationship."
"He did so, James, at my behest," Ozpin corrected. "James, you are again putting me on a pedestal, placing me above everyone at this table. I am no paragon, no paladin. You have wanted me to say the war since it started, you have sent your operatives and your agents and even yourself to try and convince me. You brought me to this very room, surrounded by other soothsayers and former apprentices, to convince me to join you in saying - and therefore making - the war. In short, you would not take 'no' for an answer. What did you think would happen?"
"I thought you would do your duty," James said, voice intense, leaning forward not as a show of power but an admission of weakness.
"We are getting off topic," Blake said quickly. "The purpose of this negotiation is for the release of the soothsayers-"
"They are doing their duty, Oz," Ironwood said. "They jumped at the opportunity to use their skills to end the war."
"And do they still jump?" Ozpin countered. "After the night of fire and blood? The Battle of Haven? Do they still leap to follow your orders after they watched you shoot my apprentice, or do they refuse to do any more readings?"
"I love doing readings," Miss Fall volunteered, coy smile on her face. Ozpin felt a tug on his heart.
"Not now," Winter said in a low hiss, "You haven't been called on."
Cinder rolled her eye. "Master Ozma," she said, voice soft but confident. "My first master spoke very highly of you. Amber said watching you work was a sight to behold. All I've seen so far is a sanctimonious man who thinks he knows best for soothsayers. I like where I am. I like my new job, and I like the work that I do. I feel powerful, like I'm finally helping people get what they've deserved all their lives. I don't see what the problem is."
Ozpin's magic thrilled in his blood, insight at the tip of his understanding. He was confused, insight always came to him very quickly, and here he was languishing in the sensation as his eyes narrowed, wondering what it meant. "Who is your new master?" he asked.
Cinder smirked, leaning back in her chair, and said nothing.
"She doesn't have one, but there you have it," Ironwood said. "The sayers like the work they are doing."
"If that's true," Weiss said, leaning forward, "then all soothsayers should be allowed to speak. Operative Schnee, have you experienced fulfillment with the soothsaying you've been doing?"
Oscar hummed, his eyes snapping to Winter, and Ozpin saw Ironwood's blue gaze slowly turn to his faithful operative.
"Sir," she said, face blank and back straight. "Permission to speak freely."
"Granted," Ironwood said.
"Lady Belladonna," Winter said, standing and folding her arms behind her back, stiff but better than when Ozpin last saw her. "At our strongest we had thirty soothsayers to help with the war effort." She stepped away from her seat, walking slowly around the table. "When sayers were attacked on the field we were relocated here for our safety and our movements were monitored. Low ranking soldiers would be brought in and cycled through the sayers with different strategic approaches for readings. This is contrary to how soothsaying is supposed to work but it was believed to help the war effort and so Lady Fria allowed it. Since then it has been discovered by multiple sayers that working in this format has created Grimm, a soothsayer taboo. The night of the Battle of Haven, Young Master Oscar Pine was court-martialed for insubordination and other minor offenses."
"Minor…?" Ironwood repeated, confused.
"The court martial was not held to regulation, and it ended with General Ironwood shooting an unarmed civilian."
"Civilian…?"
"The resulting chaos and fire has reduced sayer numbers down to twelve, and of them eleven refuse to give readings. I am one of them."
Winter stopped walking, standing next to her sister, and Marrow quickly folded to her other side, enclosing her to Ozpin's side of the table.
"I also demand that the soothsayers be released on their own recognizance. I also hereby resign my commission for the Atlesian military." She pulled at her collar, removing several pins, and placing them on the table.
"Winter," Ironwood said, his voice positively frosty. "What. Are you. Doing?"
"What I should have done a long time ago," she said.
"I'll have you court martialed for this."
"I've resigned, general, you can't do that anymore."
Ironwood slammed a fist on the table. "Winter!" he said. "How could you do this?"
"How could you do this?" Winter countered, her rich alto rising.
"You agreed with me! You said-"
"I agreed with ending the war," Winter interrupted. "I didn't agree to sacrificing soothsayers, forcing them to do readings without their consent, locking them up for making principled protests, and not one single soothsayer agreed to making Grimm. Lady Belladonna," Winter said, her voice strong but shaky. "Currently all soothsayers are confined to quarters except for myself and Cinder. Only Cinder will do readings. Many have requested going home, and all requests have been denied."
"Betrayal!" Ironwood growled, standing to his full height. "I gave you everything! None of you are grateful!"
"No, you took everything," Winter countered, cheeks red with emotion. "You took it all without ever once understanding the price."
"I sacrificed everything for this war!"
"No, you sacrificed everything else."
Author's Notes: Yeah, got a line in from V8 at the end there!
Not much to say here, the chapter really speaks for itself and is the start of the climax. Winter gets her confrontation with Ironwood and Ironwood finally starts to snap a little. More to come.
Also, side note: WE HAVE A HOUSE! Closing was last night and it's finally ours! We'll be moving next week, so fingers crossed if we have the time for next week's update. Speaking of:
Next chapter: Negociations... uh... break down.