Chapter Thirty-Seven

Blake had to shout to be heard but very quickly adjourned for a break to cool heads. Winter stalked out of the hall with Weiss at her heels, their father Jacques Schnee distantly following muttering about getting his girls back under heel. Ironwood stalked off, Cinder and Watts following suit. Tyrian stayed in the room, smiling like he was enjoying the show.

Yang escorted Ruby and Blake out, Marrow leaving to check on the Schnees. Ozpin took a deep breath, turning slightly to see Qrow still at his side. Oscar finally let go of his hand.

"This is going to take a while," he said softly, standing.

"It will take as long as it takes," Ozpin replied, taking a deep breath. The tugging at his heart was still happening, and he couldn't identify the sensation. He kept his magic open, trying to ascertain what was happening, hoping for insight. The result was when he stood his vision telescoped and he swayed dangerously to one side.

Qrow of course caught him, leaning in to ask if he was alright.

"Yes," he said softly, seeing his son looking up at him. "I'm… something…"

"We'll go as far as the stairs," Oscar said, tugging at Ozpin's hand and the next thing Ozpin knew he was sitting at the top of the stairs, his bad leg out on the threshold of the step and Oscar sitting with him a few steps down, Qrow crouched down by his side.

"Sorry," he said softly, rubbing at his chest.

"How long has your magic been open?" Oscar asked.

Ozpin blinked, realizing he hadn't shut it for the entire meeting. He looked at his hands and shook his head. "I'll get an apprentice nosebleed at this rate," he muttered. "There's something going on, but I can't put my finger on it. I keep hoping to find some insight, I feel like I'm right on the tip of understanding but…" He shook his head again, closing his magic. "I also feel a tugging sensation."

"Tugging?" Oscar said, frowning. "Like that time we saw…?"

Ozpin's eyes doubled in size. "Is that where I've felt this before?" he asked, staring at his son. "Oh, dear."

"Want to clue me in?" Qrow asked.

Ozpin turned to his lover, aware of how deep in the imperial castle they were. "The last time we felt this," he said carefully, "you were quite verbose on how scared we had made you."

He saw the exact moment Qrow figured it out, his eyes doubling in size before narrowing in frustration. "You're not making this easy, you know," he said. "I'll have a hell of a time looking out for you if you keel over from glowing too much."

"Believe me, that is the last thing I want to do," Ozpin replied, rubbing his thigh, unable to reach the damaged part of his bad leg. "I remind you, my personal preference is to not even be here."

"Not all that helpful you damn idiot," Qrow said, smiling and shaking his head. "Still wish I had my knife on me."

"Qrow, we're at the imperial palace…"

Oscar looked up. "... I think I know where it's being stored," he said softly, leaning in so his voice didn't carry. "One of the armories is near the barracks."

Qrow's responding grin was absolutely feral. "Wanna show me?" he asked.

His son caught his gaze, worried to leave him alone, but Ozpin nodded his approval, saying, "I'm certainly not going anywhere."

Oscar got up and started moving down the stairs, Qrow straightening and climbing over Ozpin's bad leg to follow. His lover turned slightly, giving him one last look before disappearing down the hall, hands in his pockets. Ozpin tilted his head back, letting it bounce on the wall, and closed his eyes. The tugging was still there, not as strong as earlier, and he frowned, wondering what, if anything, was trying to be told to him. "What am I missing?" he asked. But it was, of course, a question about himself, and no pattern arose to enlighten him. He sighed, humming, fingering his cane and wondering how he could convince the general to let the soothsayers go.

"I thought I'd find you here."

"Speak and he arrives," Ozpin said, opening his eyes and tracing his gaze up to Ironwood. "I was just thinking about you."

Ironwood smiled, and for a moment his age receded, and he was the excited student again. He leaned against the wall, hands behind his back, and hooked one boot over the other.

"It's good seeing you up and about," Ironwood said, his voice soft. "I was so worried when the doctors said the new disease had spread again." He glanced down at his bad leg. "Is it worse now?"

"... It is different," Ozpin said, uncertain how much he could say. "But it is nothing I haven't been dealing with for years now."

"You should never have gotten sick, you know," Ironwood said, shaking his head. "You have so much to give to the world, so many things you can still do. It hurts me to see you hobbled like this."

The general was trying to be a friend. Ozpin remembered their friendship, a wayward pupil chasing at his coattails, excited for anything he had to say. James Ironwood was a wonderful student in some respects: intelligent and quick witted, soaking up knowledge even when he had no talent for the art. Those were good days - never truly happy, with the Grimm over his head - but soft. Ironwood kept in touch long after his education had finished, they ate together at least twice a year, it was a good friendship. Ozpin remembered those days, but they were long gone now. James stopped being his friend the day he stopped taking no for an answer for reading the war. He stopped being his friend when he coerced his son to work for him. He stopped being his friend when he shot his son for daring to speak up. He stopped being his friend the day he learned James had pulled a reading out of him while delirious.

"How could you do it, James?" he asked, looking up. "I was on my deathbed, delirious, and you made me read the war."

"I didn't…!" Ironwood caught himself, sighing. "I didn't pull a reading out of you," he said. "It was just like you said, you were delirious. You were saying things that didn't make sense, words and phrases that I recognized were sand patterns, and as I put them together I realized you weren't actually tossing out random words, you were giving prophecy."

"It wasn't prophecy," Ozpin said, tired, the tugging still happening. "James, soothsayer does not mean fortune teller - it is the least accurate description of what I, what we, do. That has always been your greatest weakness, you think everything that came out of the reader was set in iron, cold truth to be taken as some kind of gospel. It's not, and I don't know how to make you understand that."

"Oz," Ironwood said, crouching down. "From any other sayer I'd believe you. From any other sayer I'd understand that it couldn't be taken as a cold truth. But you're Ozpin Ozma, I have a copy of every reading you've ever published. From you any pattern the sands tell you might as well be prophecy."

"If that's true, James," Ozpin said, looking up. "Then you willfully ignored the most important word of a reading: if. Do you remember my first ever reading for you?"

"Remember it?" Ironwood said with a smile. "I still have it. Come with me, I'll show you."

Ozpin froze, acutely aware that Qrow was nowhere near him, and Oscar was away. He was alone with Ironwood, and he did not know what he was supposed to do. The general was not his friend, not anymore, never again, but Ironwood still thought him as a friend regardless of that. Could he perhaps use that to his advantage…?

There was no tugging at his heart, and he leveraged himself to his feet, leaning against the wall slightly before he could steady himself.

And he followed Ironwood.

Beyond the circular table was the massive desk covered in clutter. Ironwood moved behind it and sat at the desk, at ease with the position of power, and opened a drawer, pulling out a massive file. He flopped it on the desk, the top of the file reading Master Ozma in Atlesian. Opening it, Ozpin saw his first reading, right there on the top of the pile.

"There, see?" the general said, proud. "It's one of my most prized possessions. I know you said your first reading from your master was yours, and I can see why. The artistry, the elegance, your readings are hands down the most beautiful I've seen. Over the years I've identified every pattern, every swirl, every curve of this reading. Here are the notes."

Ozpin took in the pages of scribbles and notes, copies of smaller parts of the pattern, arrows, lists of interpretations. A glance at the rest of the pile showed that Ironwood had deconstructed his other published readings in similar detail. Ironwood had followed every pattern, every publication, every writing. Ozpin blinked, seeing a bit of Valean, and he turned his head to read the ti - "Is that my thesis paper?" he asked, uncomfortable.

"Yes," Ironwood said, broad smile on his face. "Oz, the more I've read your work the more I've known I was in the presence of greatness. Nothing you've published isn't some new standard or world changing revelation. You've changed the face of the world and no one's ever noticed it. I'm blessed to call you my friend."

Ozpin breathed in through his nose, uncomfortable, setting his eyes on Ironwood with a new understanding.

"... you don't see me at all, do you?" he asked, voice barely a whisper.

Ironwood chuckled warmly. "Oz, I see you better than anyone."

"James…"

What could he say? What could he say that would change anything, fix any of this? Nothing he said or did would change Ironwood's mind, nothing would break the general's view of Ozpin as this effigy of perfection - not even Oscar could measure up to the picture Ironwood had in his head of the professor. Ironwood would never bend, and at last insight struck Ozpin, as he realized without bending the general was going to break.

It was only a matter of time.

Ozpin stared in horror, watching the uncomprehending smile, the bright eyes, the genuine affection the general had for him, utterly oblivious of the damage his every action wrought. He could still remember Haven Academy, his lecture on the art of soothsaying, the then cadet volunteering for a demonstration reading and cavalierly asking what he would lose in the next war. Ozpin had known in that moment the audience was not taking the reading seriously, and he knew whatever reading he had would not be in the same mood of the audience. He had tried to warn the cadet off, but he was so self-assured, so confident, and only the truth had any hope of disarming him.

"Do you remember me calling you into my office after that first lecture?" Ozpin asked, putting his hand on that reading.

"Yes," Ironwood said, smiling as he nodded. "I was a man of heart, righteous and caring, powerful and destined to go high places. Every word you said that day was true - I made General of the Round Table, I've saved so many lives, I've made the army into the stewards of goodwill and diplomacy. Atlas has done more now in the last twenty years than they have in the last fifty. We kept the Valean civil war on their own shores, we-"

"What?" Ozpin asked.

"The blockade. Surely you knew?" Ironwood asked. "While Vale was eating itself alive we kept them to the Sanus continent to keep their civil war from spreading to the other kingdoms. Atlas kept the world at peace, and now we're going to bring peace back to Mistral."

"You… James, you… you have no idea what you just said, do you?" Ozpin asked, suddenly light-headed. "You had armed forces outside of Vale… how many refugees did you sink?"

"None," Ironwood said, sensitive. "Every ship we sank had known terrorists or insurgents."

"Those were my people," Ozpin said, his voice rising. Callows, still in the war room, looked over. "James, you are admitting to killing my own people."

"Oh, Oz," Ironwood said, shaking his head. "They weren't your people. Vale wasn't your home, not after what they did to you. And it's just like you to reach out and forgive them regardless of what they did. You're soft, in that respect, and that's what's kept you so vulnerable over the years. Why do you think I took leave during the Lost Summer, when everyone was turning on the soothsayers? I knew you and your big heart would try and reach out. Mistral doesn't deserve you, Oz, they don't appreciate you and what you can do for them. Vale didn't appreciate you, either, and look what happened to them. They've gone from one of the strongest countries in Remnant to a backwater still trying to pay off all of its incurred debt to the other kingdoms."

"James, you are insulting my homeland," Ozpin said, aghast. "You killed my people. Surely you see how hurtful that is?"

Ironwood's confidence faded, his face changing as he took a deep, silent sigh. "We should probably table this," he said, closing his file.

Ozpin reeled, lightheaded and emotionally rocking from what he'd just learned of the general. Nothing… was there nothing he could do? What damage would the general breaking do? What… what…?

"General."

Ironwood turned, Ozpin still stalk-still. "Yes, Cinder?"

"The others are starting to drift back. We should probably take our seats - it's more impressive, isn't it, that we can assemble more quickly than them?"

"... of course. Thank you Cinder."

The young soothsayer bowed her head, gold eye drifting to the overwhelmed Ozpin and smiling. Insight struck him again, as he watched her turn and walk back to the circular table. That girl… that girl enjoyed making. She delighted in the power of knowing she was taking choices away from people. He turned to Ironwood. "You have no idea what you've done, have you?" he asked. "You've no idea what you've turned that poor girl into."

Ironwood paused, turning around. "What do you mean?"

Ozpin shook his head, feeling tugging at his heart again. His blood was starting to hum, the thrill of magic opening and he cut it off quickly before he lost his thought. "What must I do, James?" he asked. "What must I do to free those sayers before they are hurt more than they already are? I will do anything."

The general stared at Ozpin, slightly wide eyed. "... anything?" he asked.

"Anything," Ozpin repeated, feeling pressure in his head and struggling to keep his magic in check, forcing himself to get this much taken care of before the Brothers pulled him to who-knew-where. He smelled blood in his nose, and he sniffled, determined.

"Oz…" Ironwood said, turning back to him, putting a hand on his arm. "Oz, I would let them all go if you would read for me. With you at my side the war would end in days."

Everything stopped.

The tugging, the pressure, the hum in his blood, the magic, the world, all stopped.

Ozpin had a choice.

Yes.

Or no.

He chose to be happy. He chose to enjoy what he had until the Grimm activated again. He chose to be with Oscar and Qrow.

Now he had to choose. He had to choose for the sake of the other soothsayers. He had to choose for Remnant. He had to choose before the Grimm…

The Grimm.

This was the Grimm. This was the trigger. This was the spiral.

He wouldn't survive this. He couldn't. His eyes drifted to the entrance of the war room - and there, he saw Qrow and Oscar. They entered the space, smirking at each other, proud of a job well done. Safe and happy. Family. Family.

Isolation and Misery.

He turned back to Ironwood. "You don't know what you're asking," he said. "If I go with you, I won't survive."

Ironwood smiled. "So dramatic," he said. "The negotiations haven't reconvened yet, Oz. Just take some time and think about it."

What a choice…! Ironwood left to take his seat, leaving Ozpin shaking, leaning on his cane to keep from falling. To go with the general, to allow the Grimm to trigger - but what were the consequences if he didn't? What would the collateral damage be to Oscar? Qrow? The women here at the negotiations? … where was Salem, to watch this all play out?

There was a pull on his heart so strong he hummed, everything shifting and tilting, and he distantly heard Qrow, felt strong arms grab him before he tipped, "Oz, Oz, you okay?" but his very soul was weighing the options of his choice: to allow isolation and misery to pull him to the general, or to try and stay with his family he wanted to stay with his family he didn't want to go please don't let him go he wouldn't surviv-

"Oz!"

He snapped back to his body, and he found himself staring at Qrow, wine colored eyes wide and worried. Oscar was at his shoulder, hand on his back, and Ozpin blinked, eyes lingering on his son. "The Grimm…" he managed to say, a hot tear sliding down his face. "I can't…"

Both of them stiffened, knowing somehow what he was trying to say.

"Professor," a new voice said, and the three of them turned to see Cinder there again, smiling. "Won't you join us?" She offered her hand out, and something about her smile, he had seen it before, he had felt its effect befo-

"Your new master," Ozpin said, hoping he was saying it out loud, hoping he could somehow fight all of this and live. "What's… her… name…?"

And Cinder's smile turned dark. "Someone you know very well, Professor," she said. "Your sister, Salem."

Oscar stiffened.

Salem.

She was the master of Cinder.

Oscar felt so much fear in that moment. Cinder, like all the other soothsayers, knew that he was Ozpin's son. That meant Salem knew.

What….

How….

What were they supposed to do now?

"Who?" Ironwood asked, eyes narrowed. "You're a sixth-year apprentice. You haven't been given a new master yet."

Cinder gave a smooth smile, eyes beaming in cruel delight. "Really? All that 'soothsaying' you had done, and none of it showed me apprenticing to my new master when the war started? You just look down on all of us and let us starve-"

"Salem is my sister," Ozpin interrupted, standing tall despite how incredibly pale he was. "One I'd thought dead since I was twenty-three."

"What-" James growled.

Callows just giggled from where he was sitting, shifting to crouching in his chair to get a better view. "The show's about to begin!"

"Shut up," Qrow growled. He stalked towards Cinder, demanding, "Where is she?"

Cinder kept her cruel smile tilting her head just so and letting her damaged eye be seen. "Exactly where she needs to be."

Qrow's pace turned aggressive, but-

"Wait."

Oscar stilled against his will, watched Qrow stop mid step, and Ironwood stop mid turn.

Ozpin seemed to maintain freedom of movement, as he leaned on his cane and turned to a hidden door. "Salem," he greeted flatly.

The sands had said that Salem's dominant color was white, and that was very true. Ozpin was very pale by Mistralan standards, but his daily walks to and from work, chatting with Maria on the stoop, he was nowhere near as pale as his sister. Salem appeared to have avoided the sun for decades, like she only came out at night. Her skin almost matched her silver hair, and her eyes were indeed red, and just fading from the glow as a tiny basin in her hand was cleared with a pair of fingers. Oscar could guess what the pattern had been.

"Brother dearest," Salem said, her yuan lingshan a dark black with red accents. "I see you're still alive."

Ozpin stepped forward, in front of Qrow and Oscar.

Oscar tried to reach for his father, tried to pull him back, but he couldn't move, everything in him Waiting.

"Pushing me down the stairs did not kill me," Ozpin said flatly. "I can see your disappointment."

Ironwood grunted.

Salem looked on placidly, calmly walking over to Ironwood's chair at the round table. She set down her small sand basin and sat grandly as Callows giggled madly, pulling the chair back. "My queen," he cackled.

"Ahh," Ozpin said, his eyes still faintly glowing with his magic open.

No! Oscar shouted. Run! Get away!

"The Emperor's most prized possession," Ozpin continued. "I see you've lied again. A wandering soothsayer? A wandering soothmaker? And how long has the Emperor held you as his object?"

"Still so oblivious," Salem replied as Callows knelt beside and Cinder came to her side. "For a sayer who can read patterns, you're so unaware of everything going on around you."

Ozpin pushed up his spectacles. "You made a Grimm to keep yourself hidden. But that's you wanting to brag."

Oscar kept straining. No!

"I knew you felt that you were in my shadow," Ozpin continued, stepping to the table. "I always tried to say that you were talented as well. That you had a gift as I did-"

"You did no such thing," Salem hissed, standing, her face twisted in rage. "The King, the courtiers, they all came to you. The precocious child who caught the King's attention. I was just the baggage that came with you!"

Ozpin stood, leaning on his cane, unfazed, and Oscar realized that he rarely saw this part of Oz. The part that hid away all his feelings with polite statements. He'd only seen it when Ironwood had sent his operatives to try and bring Ozpin in. It was a detached face that he had never once shown to Oscar. Or Qrow.

Dad!

"Hm. I suppose you're right. I was oblivious. I see the patterns of others so clearly, but never my own. No sayer can read their own patterns, or the patterns of their loved ones." Ozpin stood tall, nothing of the fear that must be going through him showing. "The fact that I could even find a Grimm hiding you means that you are no longer family to me."

Salem's face was still twisted, but in the span of a breath she was calm again. She ignored Ozpin and turned to Callows. "Tyrian," she said, running a hand gently over his head, "be a dear. We don't need the fool to draw out my brother anymore."

Callows giggled and stood.

Qrow was straining and grunting, Oscar unable to move, and Ozpin had no hope of moving fast enough.

Ironwood was stabbed through the chest, blood blossoming out through his white uniform until it turned black and collapsed.

Then, instead of returning to Salem, Tyrian giggled madly and walked right up to Qrow.

No!

"Isolation and Misery," Ozpin said loudly, making Callows pause. He stared flatly at Salem. "I've suffered that for over half my life. Your Grimm has coiled tighter and tighter. It is triggering even now."

Salem smiled the same cruel smile that Cinder was wearing. "And yet, you keep. Coming. Back. You choose to keep being isolated and miserable instead of finally reaching the ultimate conclusion."

Ozpin stared, eyes still faintly glowing.

Dad! Oscar strained again, but everything in him had to Wait.

"I almost did," he said softly. "After my first brush with backbreaker, when I was finally walking again, I was sitting by the mirror preparing for the day. I had my razor and I was shaving. I looked in the mirror, with the blade by my neck, and instead of checking for hair…"

Salem's smile turned delighted. "Did you?" she said, adjusting the folds of her yuan lingshan. "Yet you're still here."

Ozpin slowly reached up and pulled at his turtleneck, pointing to a faint white line along the side of his neck.

Qrow grunted, face sweating with how much he was straining to move.

"Most assume it was a slip of a razor."

Oscar's breath came faster and faster. No! It was something Ozpin had never talked about. Oscar remembered when Ozpin had taken him through readings to try and show what his life had been like since he couldn't speak of it. He remembered seeing all that pressure and wondering how Ozpin had been able to stand it.

He almost hadn't.

And Oscar didn't want his father reliving this!

Cinder leaned forward, staring, taking in the scar with a cruel delight. "So even the most powerful sayer of a generation can be brought down by a Grimm," she said with a harsh smile.

Salem's serenity disappeared, face twisting and she immediately pulled out her own knife, blade long and thin, and stabbed Cinder in the stomach, twisting and making her scream.

Cinder collapsed, and Ozpin stepped back, face aghast, as Salem stood, towering over her apprentice.

Callows laughed. "Come now," he said brightly, "surely you know now that our queen is the most powerful soothsayer of a generation!"

Cinder writhed on the floor, grasping at the hole in her stomach. She coughed, blood welling in her mouth, surprised and fearful. "Without you," she coughed, trying to correct her mistake, "I am nothing."

"And so you are nothing," Salem said, stepping onto the wound. "I am far more powerful than my dearest brother. I've taught you and still you say he's the most powerful?" Salem stepped away and just let out a beleaguered sigh. "Finding good help is always so difficult."

Ironwood coughed from where he was bleeding out, glaring coldly.

Oscar wanted to move but he had to Wait.

Ozpin turned, eyes darting around, and Oscar saw the glow increase to a blinding light for the briefest of moments before Ozpin paled again and leaned more heavily on his cane.

"I see you still can't handle violence," Salem said calmly, walking around the table and ignoring the blood on her clothes. "You never had much stomach for anything. Even for people who should mean nothing to you."

Ozpin's glowing eyes followed her until she came to a stop by Oscar.

"Despite you even attempting to make the most obvious choice," she said contemptuously, "you still chose to keep living." She watched Ozpin's face as she reached out and stroked Oscar's.

Everything in Oscar shuddered. Her hands were icy cold, unlike any soothsayer he'd ever held hands with. Her eyes glowed red briefly and the hand on his face squeezed.

Oscar couldn't even pull away, repulsed as he was. He strained and strained, and he felt tears escaping his eyes as he had to Wait.

Ozpin stayed quiet for a moment, clearly thinking furiously, before he let out a soft huff of a sigh. "Isolation and Misery," he said. "You asked, before you pushed me, if I had a lover. My original projection of my life made it clear I'd never have one."

Salem actually laughed. "Naive as well as oblivious? Ozpin, people always seek lovers when times are difficult. I had three before I finally realized I could put a Grimm on you. Of course you'd have a lover."

"Hm. I see." Ozpin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Allow me to say goodbye. I will submit to what you wish."

Salem's hand moved to Oscar's throat and squeezed slightly. "Watching them die slowly and painfully would make you miserable for the rest of your life," she said airly. "Your apprentice and your lover."

Apprentice? Surely she knew he was Ozpin's son? Did Cinder not share that fact? What-

"We both know that when the Grimm activates again, I won't survive. It's triggering even now."

Oscar needed to Wait but he still cried. There was no way Ozpin was going to do this! Dad! He wanted to live! They all wanted him to live!

Dad!

"And so," Ozpin said, eyes no longer glowing, "I wish to say goodbye. They will live with the misery of watching me die. They will live without me, isolated by this traumatic experience."

Salem's smile was viscous. "Poetic," she murmured with complete satisfaction. "Tyrian?"

Callows giggled and came over. Salem pulled him aside and Oscar listened to whispers of how to kill Ozpin and Oscar was not okay with any of this!

Ozpin went to Qrow and hugged him, and from Oscar's angle, he could see Ozpin whispering something, before pulling him down into a kiss. Then he hobbled over to Oscar and hugged him close.

"She never saw you," Ozpin whispered, voice hurried. "The Grimm is breakable, keep her basin from her."

What?

Ozpin ruffled his hair and whispered, "What are you waiting for?"

Oscar's magic thrummed in him, insight crashing down on him as he saw the Pattern for a brief moment, glowing before him in it's ever changing beauty. The Grimm. Wait. It was like the reading that Ozpin had given to Weiss years ago. Her question had been too broad, not specific enough, and Ozpin's answer was very different from what she had expected.

Salem had told them to wait. But she never said what to wait for. Her basin was too small for that.

Salem had put Ozpin under Isolation and Misery, wanting him to be isolated from prestige or colleagues or lovers or things she was expecting. She'd never expected Ozpin to have a child, so he'd been able to be happy for years with Oscar before the Grimm triggered. It wasn't about a level of happiness. It was about what Salem had predicted. And since she couldn't see Ozpin's future outside of the Grimm anymore than Oscar could, she didn't see the option of going for adoption. Who would? Ozpin had said he kept making choices. As his life experience kept changing, the choices he made were different than any that Salem could have predicted.

Grimm were fallible.

Grimm were limited.

Grimm could be broken.

Keep her basin from her.

Oscar turned his eyes to the round table and the small basin still sitting there as Salem controlled the room. He now knew he had to wait for something. He just needed to choose what to wait for.

So he chose to wait for whatever signal Ozpin had planned.

Ozpin walked over to Salem and Callows, leaning heavily on his cane, panting lightly since he'd been on his feet for far too long by this point, and stood in front of them.

Then, in a move almost too fast to see, Ozpin swung his cane hitting Salem right at the temple.

"Oz!" Qrow shouted, running forward. Callows howled, jumping at Ozpin before Qrow collided into all of them, but Oscar ignored all of it. He ran. He jumped over Ironwood's body, slid across the table and scooped up the basin and took off, dumping out the sand as he went.

Author's Notes: The climax has started! Yay!

Not really sure what to say here, the chapter kind of speaks for itself: Salem has been lurking behind the scenes of the palace and using Ironwood to draw out Ozpin; she thinks she's better than him and literally kills people who dare to compliment him, and we finally pay off how on why the sand readers are so big and hers was so small. Been sitting on that one for forever!

And now there's a lot of plates to spin!

Next chapter: A knife fight, a chase, a fall of someone.

Theoretically next chapter goes up from our new house!