A/N: Hello all! Slightly late on the upload, I blame nobody but myself. Endwalker's out, and I'm convinced a decent portion of my freetime is going to be dedicated to that, so my next post will likely be a bit late as well.
With all that said, This post serves more to give an idea of what's going on around the world of Remnant, as opposed to what Aran's been up to. Next post will get into her mission in Hinderstap proper!
A thin, bald shadow slipped around a corner inside a long white and blue hallway. The automatic door slid closed behind him as continued on his way, his mission accomplished. Only a few moments later, a quartet of Atlesian soldiers turned the corner further down the hall. Almost immediately, they halted and gave a solute.
"Specialist on deck!" The highest ranked soldier, a corporal it seemed, stated loudly.
The shadow said nothing as he passed them, but he did give them a nod of acknowledgement at the very least. He knew his voice wouldn't have given way to the nervousness he felt, but he knew that if any of these soldiers were ones he had worked beside in the past, they would notice something different in it.
When the soldiers resumed their patrol, the shadow released a small breath he wasn't aware he had been holding.
The trip back to his room took only another couple of minutes. He entered quickly and glanced out the window, wondering what exactly he was doing.
Outside the window, he caught sight of Atlas, floating above Mantle. It was a sight to behold, one of beauty and majesty. And he felt a pain deep down in his heart, knowing that he was betraying the people in it.
And yet… the feeling of righteousness he felt overwhelmed it, as well as the reassurance that his companions had all agreed upon their course of action. And more besides; there were others that had seen what had happened at Vale and recognized the madness that had overtaken their general. This reassurance is what kept the shadow going.
Because while he was betraying General Ironwood, he knew that he was upholding the ideals that Atlas had ingrained into him. The General's madness would drag Atlas into ruin, and the shadow knew that he would do whatever it took to ensure Atlas, and Mantle by extension, would remain safe.
But he wasn't a fool. Ironwood's word was still effectively law. And he also knew that before his work was done, bloodshed in Atlas and Mantle would happen, be it from Grimm or an invading alliance of Vale and Vacuo, with Aran Vinland at its head. Ironwood's insanity was the most noticeable when it came to the faunus that had saved Vale. Any form of reason was tossed aside when her name was mentioned. He hadn't been the only one to notice, either. It's what led to what he had just done in the ship's communications room.
A heavy knock on his door disturbed his thoughts, bringing his attention back to the present. He grabbed the bag he packed previously and hid it behind a large cushion he used for meditation.
"Come in."
The door opened, admitting the large form of Elm, her usual expression replaced with one of seriousness. Her height allowed her to see the bag he had stashed away, causing her to sigh.
"It seems you've chosen your side, Vine."
The slim man nodded and reached for his bag.
"I have. I will take the fall for the transmission to Robyn, and I'll help her get into contact with Clover and Marrow. Vale needs inside information, knowledge of what lengths Ironwood is willing to go to. But to do that, we need you to stay with him and Harriet. We both know that she'll break if she's forced to choose between Ironwood and Clover, so we'll make the choice for her until the General is no longer a threat to Atlas. She'll be of no use to Atlas if she does break."
Elm nodded, and reached behind her back to grab Timber.
"Very well. I hope you're ready to make this look as convincing as possible, Vine. The General won't believe otherwise if anything less than half of this ship is destroyed in your escape."
His eyes widened as he cursed, sidestepping the rocket that came from Timber.
Doctor Pietro Polendina withheld his frown as he listened to General Ironwood discuss Penny's success in Vale. At first, the scientist had been elated to hear about her performance when the General had first arrived back in Atlas a little less than a week ago. When he arrived with only four ships, all of them heavily damaged, he had been worried. But then Penny had come home, and told him of the friends she had made at Beacon.
He was truly happy for her, even if he knew that she had gone against what she had been told to do. Part of that is because she had done what she felt was right, as opposed to what she was told. Truth be told, he felt like he should take notes from his little girl.
Especially right now, as he listened to Ironwood's plan for Penny to become even more than Atlas' savior. He was fine with her becoming something to protect Atlas; it was actually an honor. But now, Ironwood was discussing how to make her into much more than a protector.
Ironwood wanted a conqueror, a weapon of mass destruction that would make the other nations cower into subservience. All to face some bigger threat that he seemed to think Aran Vinland represented. But from all accounts given by Penny, which in turn came from people very close to this Dragonsong, Aran Vinland only sought to help, even if she was rather brutal in going about it. But that didn't mean that Penny's logic was completely sound; she simply may not have all the information.
It left the Doctor in a conundrum. He respected Ironwood, but not what he was trying to turn Penny into. At the same time, he couldn't base his next actions off of the potentially incomplete data that Penny has presented. But he did know one thing.
Penny would not be a weapon to be used at will by Ironwood. She was her own person, even if she was artificially created. She had her own soul, her own thoughts and opinions. She would make her own choice for her future, and he would support her in her decision. She already had, in fact, just this morning.
He just needed to find a way to hide her departure long enough to ensure that Ironwood wouldn't be able to recover her. Already, he had severed her from being controlled by Atlas without Ironwood's knowledge. The code was still there, and it would still certainly turn something off, just not Penny. It would be rather interesting to see the General's face when he realized he had sent a kill command to his prosthetic arm.
As long as Robyn kept her word, and he was confident she would, then Penny would be on her way out of Atlas on board one of the last ships that would leave Atlas before Ironwood's lockdown went into effect. This very moment, Penny should be nearly a quarter of the way to Argus on board a hijacked Schnee Dust aerial transport. With her would be several Atlas Academy students. Those students were those who followed Ironwood's orders to return to Beacon while Vale was besieged, but felt that they had done something wrong by doing so and wanted to do something to make up for it.
He didn't know any names beyond Penny's, nor did he want to. He was just glad she had at least a couple people she was familiar with leaving with her.
Ironwood's long-winded explanation over his scroll was interrupted as they both heard an explosion. Without hesitation, both men began to ask their subordinates what had happened; naturally, Ironwood's people figured it out first.
"Damn! The Fearless Voyage has been hit by an explosive." Ironwood breathed out. Then his expression hardened as his informant explained that the explosion originated from inside the warship. Just then, a call was routed to Ironwood's scroll, who put it on for both men to listen to. Polendina recognized Specialist Elm Ederne's face immediately.
"General! Vine's gone rogue, I'm trying to bring him in but he's a step ahead of me!"
Ironwood looked to his side and nodded to someone outside of the screen. Then he returned his attention to the call.
"Understood. Harriet's on her way, try to keep him contained until she arrives."
"Yes sir!"
Then her call ended, leaving Ironwood to turn his attention back to Polendina.
"We'll continue this conversation once this has been resolved. Where's Penny right now? I want her to go with Harriet to arrest Vine."
"Err… she's shut down right now. I can't reactivate her until I manage to squash a bug in her core programming; doing so before I do could lead to corrupted code for her major systems."
"Fine. Get it done quickly, I want her patrolling as soon as possible while you build her new frame. Ironwood out."
The good Doctor released a breath, glancing at the frame his little girl was supposed to be moved to. Ironwood's "Protector of Atlas" model for Penny. He then smiled as a notification on his scroll informed him of Maria's arrival for her annual checkup on her ocular implants.
She had been a good friend for many years, and she was no friend of Ironwood's. Or even Atlas, for that matter. He began to whistle to himself as he decided on how he would package Penny's newest model and send it with her when she returned home. He wouldn't have to include directions; those he had already uploaded to Penny in preparation beforehand.
His whistle took on a jauntier tone as he felt his plan coming together.
General Ironwood read over Specialist Ederne's report on finding Vine going rogue. With a sigh, he rubbed his eyes and pushed his scroll aside, ignoring the look that Jacques Schnee gave him as he did so. Willow, usually absent from such meetings, had actually attended for once though she remained silent in a corner, leg propped over the leg of a large chair with a book in hand.
Vine had escaped to Mantle. Even worse, Robyn Hill and her Happy Huntresses had openly assisted in his escape from the remnants of the Ace Ops. While he knew she wouldn't be supportive of the martial law that was coming, he didn't think she would actively fight against him.
"This… is a mess," the General finally stated. He was in the middle of a meeting with Schnee when Harriet had forwarded Elm's report, and had stopped the man's long-winded diatribe on his name. That the man hadn't even born to it, had merely made Ironwood roll his eyes internally.
"You're telling me! My daughters have abandoned the Schnee name, brought dishonor and are now likely dragging it through the mud!"
That would be your doing. Ironwood thought to himself. I'm still not sure what Willow was thinking, marrying you.
"Yes, Jacques. But not what I was meaning. Now then, should we return to the original purpose of this meeting?"
The man grumbled for a moment before as he straightened his tie, then nodded.
"As you wish, General. Keep in mind however, as always, that the SDC is first and foremost a Dust company, not a military tech firm. You have requested preliminary designs from my top engineers, and you now have them. I would be glad to begin the experimental phase with any of these, but the funding, of course, would have to come from somewhere."
Resisting the urge to crush the insect in front of him, Ironwood nodded.
"Such is how it's been in the past, Jacques. Now, what do you have for me?"
The male Schnee took a deep breath and clasped his hands together.
"Are you sure about this, James? All of these things you've sent to my people violate the terms of the Treaty of Vytal. Almost all of them will be crimes against humanity and faunus both. If the Kingdoms weren't against us yet, they will be when word of any of these reaches them."
"I am aware, but think. They're already against us; Vacuo has made its position known to be allied with Vale. Vale itself is now undoubtedly under Aran's control, and she is who we need to be able to fight."
"And Mistral? Will they not aid us?" Jacques asked.
"Mistral is about to erupt into civil war between its Queen and Haven's Headmaster. Leonardo might help us against Vale and Vacuo, but the Queen has displayed open support for Vale's Dragonsong. Support won't be coming from Mistral."
Jacques rubbed his chin in thought, before standing from his seat to begin pacing. After nearly a minute of silence, his gaze turned to Ironwood once more.
"Fine. We won't need them. I can put my workers on an active rotation, get more out of them. If you will support the bill I have already proposed to the Council, of course."
James frowned.
"You would turn your workers into slaves?"
"I would ensure that my company can provide for the future of Atlas!"
A soft and feminine humming drew their attention to where Willow sat, their eyes meeting her own as she peered over her book towards them. It was at this moment that James felt a shiver go down his spine, as it was the first time in many years he had seen the brutal clarity of the Schnee Matriarch unoccluded by drink. To some degree, he felt pity for the man that stood now next to the chair across the table.
"Your company? The SDC? The Schnee Dust Company? Surely you're not talking about the same company as the one I've just named? I dare say I should remind you that it is, in fact, MY business, not yours. You married into a Matriarchal family, Jacques. Perhaps it's time I remind you of what that means. Because of you, not one, but both of my daughters have abandoned the now-soiled prestige behind the name of Schnee. And then you had the audacity to attempt to overrule my decision to allow her apprenticeship to Aran Vinland, and her attendance at Beacon. Tread carefully Jacques, because I will flay you alive if you so much take one more step over what I deem to be your box of control. Winter and Weiss are true Schnees; their natural prowess and Semblance came from someone here, and I guarantee that it wasn't you."
Jacques swallowed, blinked, and tried to control the blood flowing to his face as both anger and fear fought to be most prominent. Eventually, he managed to begin sputtering.
"B-but Whitley-"
"Is a fine boy that was tainted by your influence. Whitley, you can stop dropping the eaves. Get in here."
James turned in surprise, as did Jacques, as the male heir of the SDC slid into the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Willow roll her eyes as she began to speak again.
"I'm stripping you of your title of heir. In time, you can earn it back, but you will stay away from Jacques from here on. You may have learned how to be a politician and businessman from him, but he hasn't taught you the importance of morality in the decisions you make in regards to both of those. Nor, I imagine, has he even thought of awakening your Aura; he himself hasn't even unlocked his, after all. Time for a family history lesson. Your grandfather started the SDC, but he wasn't a businessman initially. Can you tell me what he did that led to his developing the SDC?"
Whitley shrugged, then glanced at his father who in turn mirrored his son's gesture.
"Thought not. James, if you would."
Ironwood sighed and rubbed his temples.
"Your grandfather was of the first generation of Huntsmen. He helped found our Academy in his younger days, and was permanently maimed shortly afterwards by an assassin bearing a grudge for something during the Great War."
Willow nodded, then continued where James had left off.
"Correct. He didn't have a children until later in life, and didn't live to see myself and my brother reach adulthood. But while he started the SDC, he was not the head of our family. That honor fell to my Aunt, who remained an independent Huntress. She never had children, so the title fell to me when she died rather suddenly. By that point, I was already established as a Huntress and head of the SDC. My days as a Huntress created many contacts, some in higher places as James found out the hard way recently. My brother ran the SDC behind the scenes while I was away doing my duties, and eventually met Jacques. When I returned, I took over for my brother, who mysteriously fell ill once I was betrothed to your father."
Her eyes left Whitley and landed on Jacques.
"I was by that point pregnant with Winter. So I went with it. Then I started drinking, knowing that my husband was not the man he played to be. Then Weiss came along, and then you. I gave Winter tips on how both myself and my Aunt fought after finding her practicing with our Semblance, who then combined the two styles and put Weiss on the right path as well. My Aunt was a duelist, while I pushed our Semblance to the limits and discovered our Summoning. Winter took these and pushed them even further, and I whatever Aran Vinland has taught my daughter -"
As she said the woman's name, her glare silenced James's outburst before he could even start.
"- I am positive it is something just as extraordinary. What about you, Whitley? What do you truly want out of life? It's time to start thinking about it, because it may soon be too late to change your mind."
Willow stood up and closed her book. She glanced once more at Jacques and began to move for the door Whitley had just entered through.
"Find an engineering company, James. The SDC is a Dust mining, refining, and transport company. You're welcome to start one up using SDC resources Jacques, but only after I approve them."
And then she was gone, a winter storm that had shaken a lodge's occupants, then left them grasping at how to clean up.
James looked to Jacques.
"Do whatever she wants you to do, Schnee. I need these plans to come to life."
And then he, too, was gone.
The General was no more than a few steps outside of the Schnee manor when he received an emergency update on a certain prisoner. Somehow, he had escaped.
Deep in Atlas' prison, a bull faunus could be found doing anything he could in order to keep up his fitness. It was different to any other kind of cell he had seen; indeed, he had found no flaw to exploit, nothing that he could slowly charge his Semblance to destroy. Barriers of the kind he had never seen before surrounded him on all sides, leaving him alone with a bed and latrine.
It was quite degrading, to be honest.
Here was where he had spent the last however many days he had been a prisoner once Ironwood's "fleet" arrived, if you could call it a fleet any longer. And it was here that he found himself when the door to the room his cell was in opened.
He had been expecting an officer to come interrogate him at any time. He sighed and sat up from his bed.
"You're not getting anything out of me, human," Adam declared automatically without even looking at the new arrival. He was surprised when he heard a young girl's voice address him afterwards.
"I'm not here to get anything. I'm here to make you an offer."
Adam's head shot instantly to the voice, earning a confused and somewhat terrified reaction from him.
What he thought was a girl, or perhaps she was, stood no taller than four feet. A bald head with silver eyes, though he was confident that a Grimm's bone carapace surrounded most of her body with the exception of her above her jaw, and the black flesh of a Grimm where any major joints should have been. The girl herself didn't look like she could have been any older than perhaps nine or ten.
"Your freedom, in exchange for your service to me."
Adam chuckled.
"Service to a freakish little girl? No thanks. I'll take my chances here."
It was then that the bull faunus noticed the irregular twitching the girl seemed to do, reminding him oddly of a marionette with a novice puppeteer.
"Your stance is understandable, but misguided. This is but a vessel for which I used to contact you. Perhaps I shall show you more of what a mere puppet is capable of?"
Adam Taurus felt his skin crawl as he witnessed black tendrils begin to rise from behind her, moving with an unnatural fluidity that just seemed wholly and utterly wrong. When the closest one swiped at the barrier's generator above him, he noticed the blood coating the tendril, as well as pained and labored breathing from the girl in front of him. He didn't feel the need to verify that the tendril originated somewhere inside her when he heard the tearing of flesh and saw another shoot out and destroy the controls to the door behind her.
He was given no choice when the eldritch girl grabbed him with inhuman strength and hauled him away.
Within a week of Beacon's recovery, construction and remodeling had begun rather quickly. Glynda had already drawn up detailed plans and set workers to them.
It rather impressed Aran, who sat and watched as a small crane was lifting what she assumed to be tiles up to the second floor dormitories. She wore her robes and hood, her ears glamoured so as to disappear beneath the fantastic fabric. Her face was hidden beneath yet another glamour, making anyone who peered beneath the hood see nothing but a black void. The hood itself had a silver thorned circlet around it, reminiscent of a crown almost. On her left hand was a mirrored gauntlet of the one she had crafted for her right hand, though they had both been modified with sharp studs on the knuckles. Dark steel pauldrons covered her shoulders, their purpose having not been revealed to those who asked about the redundancy of armor over her robes. In truth, the layered steel was more of a fashion statement than anything that was meant to help her, though memories restored to her as she learned from the soul crystal returned to her by Hades had planted ideas in her mind. The end result was an intimidating figure, one which most people avoided, even with her fame.
The courtyard where she stood was already mostly reconstructed, minus the statue that had sat in the center. In its place stood a fountain, though it remained without water. At its top stood a small statue of a nondescript human, alongside a rabbit faunus. It wasn't Aran, but Glynda had wanted to pay homage to her role in Beacon's defense. So she settled on a rabbit faunus to represent the species as a whole.
Footsteps behind her brought Aran's attention to the purpose of why she was at Beacon in the first place, as opposed to down in Vale teaching Emerald, Ren, and Blake about botany, chemistry, and alchemy. Ryne had sequestered herself away with Y'shtola to learn more about casting spells.
Moira Sol. But there was more than one woman approaching; there were two. One wore blue trousers and a black sweater with her hood down, revealing headphones with cat ears on top. Her hair was blue, until it reached the blonde tips.
The other woman bore the same exact facial features, though her hair was quite red, with a stripe of white in her bangs directly over a long-healed scar reaching from her temple down towards her chin. Unlike the black sweater of the other woman, a tight-fitting green shirt and blue trousers were worn. Neither of them seemed to possess weapons.
"So…" Aran began once they stopped only a few alms away. "Moira?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Present." Both women started simultaneously. The red head pointed to herself.
"I'm Moira Sol. She is my twin sister, Moira Luna. Most people don't know I have a twin; consider yourself privileged."
Her tone led to Aran cocking her head and crossing her arms under her chest while the blue-haired woman spoke. Oddly enough, she kept glaring at a space next to Aran as if the very air there offended her.
"Technically speaking, I don't exist. No birth record, accounts, anything of the sort. By showing myself, we're exposing to you our greatest secret as a sign of trust. We hope you'll accept it."
Her words made Aran frown, though it went unseen by the twins.
"And why should I believe that?"
This time, the red head spoke.
"Because my sister and I share the same soul, sundered by the Brother God of Light. Hydaelyn, our ancestors called it. And our ancestors insist that our line exists to serve you, Lady Azem. Hence the reasoning for our reigning in those who believe you to be our savior. Our messiah to deliver us from the coming Age of Darkness."
Aran blinked under the glamour of her hood. Then blinked again. That… wasn't good.
"Come again?" Aran asked, making sure she heard the woman right. Moira Sol shrugged.
"You heard me. Our ancestors tell us that you can save us, end the threat of the Grimm and its master. I would ensure that you have the power to do so, and if it takes whatever we have to make it possible, then I will. Do you desire power? Command? To be a ruler? Then I shall amass the Dragonsworn into an army under your banner. We shall stake a claim on land, turn it into your own Kingdom. Already, King Vale seems set to follow your lead; think of what you can accomplish with another Kingdom! And a religion with you as its centerpiece is the easiest way."
Aran shook her head.
"How about… no? Are you perhaps a bit touched in the head?"
Her response seemed to have caught Sol off-guard, though her sister attempted to hide a smirk rather poorly.
"I told you she wouldn't be swayed by the promise of power, sister dearest. She does what she must for the sake of others, not for her own gain. Like we do. I've been the one watching her for the last week, trust my judgment sister."
Still bewildered, Sol tried to convince Aran once more.
"But… you would be venerated as a living god, should my plan work. Why would you say no to such influence, such power?"
"That is exactly why I cannot accept your proposal. You must understand that I cannot be seen in such a light. I have already likely damned myself in that regard, and I refuse to put any more fuel to the flames of reverence and piety. The stronger I become, the less I am myself, and I will not lose myself. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, Moira Sol, and losing myself to such corruption will only hasten the rise of your Age of Darkness."
The red head snorted.
"Listen to yourself, and look at what you have already done! Nobody else in the history of Remnant has wielded the power you have displayed to destroy the Grimm! To the small folk, you are already godlike! Would embracing this not then be the sensible thing to do?"
"Listen to me, Moira Sol!" Aran roared. Her patience for this conversation was reaching its end; she had stated her answer, and nothing this woman would say to the Ancient would change her mind. Not even Y'shtola could work such a miracle. Without hesitation, she ripped the gauntlet hiding her corrupted arm off, then pulled the sleeve of her robe up. Dropping the gauntlet, she began to unwind the bandage.
"I am no god! I am quite mortal, quite prone to failure and the consequences of such mortality!" With the bandage ripped away, she waved her arm before both women's eyes, seeing them widen. "My mistakes have consequences of the highest caliber. This is the corruption of Light aether. If not for the actions of another, Vale would be little more than a city of glass, it's inhabitants burned away or otherwise turned into sin eaters! Death is as close to me as a lover, caressing me every time he gets. Do not turn me into that which I am not, Moira Sol, lest you wish for untold destruction."
Blinking away her unforseen rage, Aran took a deep breath and began to wrap her arm once more. Luna stepped forward cautiously, grabbing the gauntlet on the ground and holding it for Aran to grab once she finished her wrapping. The Warrior gave Luna a guarded nod in thanks as she put it back on.
"Begone, Sol. I'll speak to Luna, but I have nothing more to say to you."
The woman's eyes narrowed, but she turned shortly afterwards without giving away anything of what was going through her mind. Aran waited until she was gone before she spoke to Luna.
"Do you share your sister's opinions?" Aran asked abruptly. Surprisingly, the blue-haired woman shook her head.
"No, actually. I knew from the moment I started watching you that you didn't want power; you avoided being seen by the public at any opportunity. Still do, as a matter of fact, hence your current garb. Though, that will become just as recognizable soon enough once you do something of note in it. Clankerboy says that he's happy to see you in the robes again, though."
Whatever the Viera was going to say was stymied when Luna added the last sentence almost offhandedly.
"My… who is this person in your head?"
Luna shrugged.
"An ancestor, apparently. Fairly tall, black armor with a blue robe around it- frayed and open in the front, mind you, not like yours - he has silver eyes as well."
Frowning, Aran began to pace in thought.
"Silver eyes… would he by chance recognize the last name Rose?"
Luna glanced beside Aran, apparently listening to the person in her head. The whole thing wasn't as crazy to her as it would be to others; she did, after all, have a very similar experience with Ardbert. And now that he's merged with her, she could see the entirety of his life. Could honestly put up the perfect impersonation of him as well, if not for the fact that she was a female Viera. But then of course, creation magic has its uses. Y'shtola certainly enjoys its more frivolous applications.
"He says Rose isn't a name that he recognizes, but it could be the result of the years passing. He thinks the most likely candidate of a Rose ancestor would be Rosetta, of the same order constructed by and to help Azem. They didn't use surnames back then, and usually their children would take on their names when they passed, apparently something of a call-back to Azem's affiliates prior to the Sundering. Rosetta could have eventually become a surname as Rose. Rosetta was apparently the name of the line devoted to caring for the order's history, if that helps you any."
The Warrior's pacing stopped, nodding to herself.
"It does, actually. Tell me about the Dragonsworn. How did the group form? How did it grow so large?"
"My sister was presumed dead by most people. Made it easy for her to operate under an alias, with merely a passing resemblance to a somewhat renowned Huntress that was killed on a mission. I can't tell you why she's so intent on propping you up as an icon for veneration, but I believe it has to do with our shared soul being that of one of our ancestors. Of course, we aren't blood related to him obviously or we would have silver eyes too, but we consider him ours. He appeared to her much sooner in life than he did me, and I never really believed her when she said that she could see someone and was learning things from him. I thought it gibberish at first, until she started doing things that I know she shouldn't have been able to do. Between the two of us, I was always the more knowledgeable, but I didn't exist officially and therefore was unable to attend combat schools or Beacon Academy. That left me with more time to learn what I wanted to on my own time. Then, one day during Sol's graduation year in Beacon, our ancestor appeared to me as well. Despite the fact that he appeared to Sol first, it seems I have the stronger connection or a larger piece of his soul, since I can use his Semblance and call forth his armaments and use them with his skill. I think Sol was always jealous of that fact, but it is what it is. I am a scholar with stolen talents and equipment, while Sol is the visionary working off of her own skill. A visionary that won't stop simply because you told her no, might I add."
Both women stood silently for several minutes, opting to just listen to the thrum of life and reconstruction around them. Eventually, Aran spoke once more.
"Then I am forced to take up the leadership of the Dragonsworn?"
"If you don't want them to become a cult, then most likely. Just between you and I, her idea is absurd. The god in her and our ancestor's eyes has forbidden her from doing something; you would think that would be enough to make her stop."
"I've heard from several sources that she's rather insane."
"They're not wrong. I'll do my best to stop her from taking things too far, but I'll need your help to do so."
Aran nodded in agreement, then cocked her head as another question came to mind.
"What do you think of me, Luna?"
The woman smiled, clearly having expected the question.
"Oh! Simple, really. You're something beyond mortal, what with the things you can do. But you can still die I would assume, so you're not a god. Therefore I would make you out to be some kind of demigod. Will I run around bowing to you like my sister would have everyone doing? No. But some part of me still reveres you for what you've accomplished and what you can do. Just as most of the people that were here in Vale during the invasion do. Anyhow, I hear you have things to do. I'll let my sister know that you've agreed to take leadership of the Dragonsworn, but that you won't be making an appearance as such soon. Taking a trip over to Anima takes time, you know. Toodles!"
With a smile and a wave, the blue haired woman was gone, leaving Aran to stare after her retreating from with a frown. She shouldn't have known about the trip to Mistral.
A careful eye would have to be kept on the Moira twins.
An hour later found Aran sitting at the table inside her former dorm room at Beacon, hood down. Azem's crystal had been placed in front of her as she stared at it with steepled fingers.
The room itself was disorganized, its door busted open from some form of blunt force. It was clear that Ironwood had tried to find out anything he could about Aran, Ryne, and Y'shtola. Thankfully, most of their thing were only moved, not taken. Except for a few things here and there; most noticeable was the stack of books on aether that Aran's lover had given to Ryne to read in order to get a stronger grasp on what it was she wanted to learn. The books themselves were nothing valuable, merely a child's guide into what aether was, how it was manipulated, and the vocations which made the most use of aetherial manipulations. At least Ironwood would know the general basics of the Jobs found in the Source.
Regardless, the only thing that mattered to Aran at the moment was Azem's crystal.
It shows me what I've done before, what a Weaver is capable of. I created the discipline of aetherial manipulation that it shows me. So why does it not teach me? And why do I have very little memory of it on my own?
Even as she pondered the crystal, her mind remembered what had been shown to her.
She remembered weaving threads of Earth-aspected aether into completed works, weaves, and thrusting it into the ground afore an invading mass of creatures. She remembered watching the weave do as it was designed to do, causing the very ground to crumble beneath said army and swallow them whole.
Threads of Water came together to create a torrent of water strong enough to cut men in half, strip flesh from bone even through the thickest of armors.
Air to suffocate. To deflect.
Fire, to burn and with its comforting warmth, to heal the mentally weary.
Light, to create weaves of compulsion and to heal the physically injured.
Dark, to block others from being able to use their aether, and to raise the fallen that they may serve once more if they so chose.
But why could she not feel these threads, much less form them?
It wasn't like she hadn't already done it; she had unconsciously done it with threads of fire to create a weave in her fight with Raven, only a few days ago. But now, she couldn't even begin to replicate how she had done it.
So enveloped in her thoughts, she didn't hear the footsteps of a single person approach and enter the room through the destroyed doorway. The bronze armored form of Pyrrha Nikos watched Aran for a further ten minutes, until the Warrior made a noise of disgruntled irritation.
"You know," Pyrrha said instinctively as she saw her difficulty, startling Aran, "I've found that stepping away from the problem and recentering myself in my mind has often helped overcome the barriers keeping me from my mental goal."
Why did she say that? She had no idea what Aran was currently pondering beyond the crystal that sat in front of her. The words seemed to form themselves, though she knew not where they came from. A frown formed on Pyrrha's face, as well as confusion.
Aran, for her part, watched the champion's reactions to herself with mild amusement. Every day, she became more sure that Pyrrha was indeed the host of a piece of Hythlodaeus. It was comforting, knowing that he oldest and closest friend was with her once more. He may never make himself known to his host, never seek to integrate his memories with hers, but she knew that he had at least some part to play Pyrrha's personality and innate talents. Nothing to change who she would have been if he wasn't a piece of her, but enough to give her a greater chance at enjoying her life and being able to survive its perils.
Then she blinked as she recognized the words Pyrrha had spoken; she had stated the very same words to Hythlodaeus when she found him in a very similar position that she herself was in now. And then, she cursed to herself as she remembered an old technique to do just that.
The Flame and the Void.
She jumped up and hugged Pyrrha, surprising the young woman. She hugged Aran back in turn, simply smiling and enjoying the ability to give her friend some form of comfort. Their hug lasted for nearly a minute before Aran finally stepped away.
"Pyrrha, you're a lifesaver. Why didn't I think of it before? For that matter, why didn't I remember giving you the same advice all those years ago?"
Wait. What? Pyrrha thought to herself.
Aran seemed to leap away from Pyrrha, doing a twirl that definitely didn't fit the intimidating appearance of her robes and armor. Then she was seated once more at the desk, lost to the world as her face lost any form of expression.
Her mind had to be empty, of course. That meant no emotions. And so, she shoved it all into the mental flame in her mind, emptying it and leaving herself in a meditative state. She became aware of her senses sharpening; she was able to hear distinct conversations not too far away from her room, though she knew she hadn't been able to before. The taste in the air of fresh lumber being cut, different mixtures being created to reconstruct Beacon. She could smell the very faint perfume that Pyrrha wore, something that she knew Pyrrha took embarrassment to doing but liking the smell of it enough to use anyway, at least just enough so that she could smell it. And then, she saw something that she knew was always there in her mind, yet had never seemed important to her.
A bubble, with a flower inside. A gladiolus, in fact. Inside her mind, she reached for the bubble, knowing that this was the key to what she had been missing.
And then, when her mental fingers touched the bubble, she screamed as she felt them burn. With her enhanced senses, she also remembered the drawback to such a state: pain, too, was enhanced.
"Dammit!" Aran shouted in frustration. Her physical right hand involuntarily clenched and smashed down into the table, cracking the wood and startling Pyrrha. "It's right there, why can't I reach it?" She muttered in contrast to the earlier shout. Then she remembered she wasn't alone.
"Sorry Pyrrha. I didn't mean to startle you."
The red-head simply smiled.
"No need to apologize, Aran. Perhaps a break from the matter altogether would help?"
Sighing, Aran nodded. She reached over for her crystal and placed it in her bag.
"What brings you here, anyhow?" She asked the champion as they left the dorm room.
"I was grabbing a few things from my team's room and noticed your door was destroyed. Was that the General's doing?"
Aran shrugged.
"I would assume so. He searched for anything he could that could help him, but there wasn't much there that he could use. The only thing I noticed to be missing would be the books Y'shtola leant to Ryne to explain the basics of aether. She's already read them and displayed that she understood the concepts they went through, so it's not a great loss. Hope the General enjoys learning what most children are taught in the Source."
Aran and Pyrrha's return to the bunker was met with its inhabitants looking at the Warrior expectantly. For the most part, almost everyone in their group was present, students included. A couple of days ago, Aran had finally relented and shown them where she and the others had been living and would continue to do so, after some rather persistent begging on the parts of Nora, Ruby, and Jaune. Ruby of course already knew, but she certainly put on a great act of not knowing.
The result was that the bunker had begun to feel significantly more crowded, despite its size. If this was to be a regular thing, the former students of Beacon gathering in her current home, then she was heavily considering finding a larger building. Or maybe just asking Braylor if one could be built to house all of her faction.
Despite this, some part of her had refrained from doing so. Something told her the issue would be resolved soon enough, though she couldn't say exactly why or how.
The only people missing from the building were Alphinaud, Glynda, Qrow, and Raven. Alphinaud and Glynda had gone to supervise the extraction of the first Eye of Tiamat, which had finally been reached, while Raven was… doing whatever she did, apparently with Qrow. She hated large gatherings, and Qrow being around this many people for an extended length of time was begging for his Semblance to cause trouble. Despite this, at least a couple of their spots were taken by Roman and Neo, who had mostly been out of contact until the previous day.
"So?" Gretchen asked. Beside her, Hazel stood with his arms crossed.
"What's the plan?" He finished, at the same time as Thancred. The two men glanced at one another, then returned their attention back to Aran.
"I'll be taking over the leadership of the Dragonsworn, after I return from the mission in Anima. Qrow was right; Moira Sol is insane and she shouldn't be trusted leading them." She paused, debating on if she should continue to the reason why in front of them all, then mentally shrugged. She had already informed all of them of the fact that she and her companions are not native to Remnant; that was one of the first things she had gathered them here for when she relented on the pestering of where she currently lived. Their reactions were a mix of disbelief and awe, though nobody had actually thought she was lying. They knew her too well by this point to be able to say otherwise.
Hazel hadn't been there for that; the less he knew until he agreed to aid her, the better. At the very least, Aran and the others were in agreement that he wouldn't be returning to Salem; he had no reason to.
Aran decided that the information about her deification in Sol's eyes should remain with only those that understand the danger of such a thing happening. Instead, she glanced over to Ryne, Ren, Emerald, and Blake.
"Gather your things and say your goodbyes. I'm intending on leaving Vale within the next couple of hours."
As if a switch flipped, everyone returned to what they were doing before Aran and Pyrrha made their way over to Hades, who was apparently conversing with Roman. Neo, for her part, was nearby and grinning at Aran while eating what looked like ice cream.
"Ah, the triumphant conqueror returns!" Torchwick jested, tipping his hat with an exaggerated bow. "But seriously, Neo found something interesting on one of her trips to town that you might want to know. It's about the fellow you're traveling with, actually. Matrim Cauthon."
Aran cocked her head.
"He's a Huntsman who apparently has enough clout to be the replacement of Councilwoman Grey. What more is there to know?" She asked.
Roman's former cheerful demeanor faded, revealing his rarely seen 'serious face', as he called it.
"It's not quite what you think. Matrim's from your destination, but he isn't well-loved there. For that matter, his being thrust into Vale's Council is a political move being made by the council itself. They have some dirty dirt on him- the kind that he can't afford to go public. Or even really let anyone know, for that matter. His heritage could prove a problem were it known to the right people."
"And what is his heritage?"
Roman leaned back, stretching, before he leaned back in conspiratorially.
"How does a bastard great grandson of a king do for you? Now, I'm not saying he could overthrow Braylor; the man's a juggernaut, even more so than Port. But Cauthon's heritage is a weapon that the council is trying to leverage against the King. And they're maneuvering him in a way that he all but has to become their puppet."
Humming to herself, Aran reached a hand up to her chin in thought.
"Then I'll need to find a way to endear him to Hinterstap, and him to it. We need Braylor in power, since the council has already proven themselves as sympathetic to Atlas."
Roman chuckled as he donned his usually cheerful self once more.
"Look at you go! Mom already has a solution! There's a reason I knew being adopted by you was a great idea! Jokes aside, Neo's decided to pal along with you. Don't ask me why, she ignored my asking why."
"And if I say no?" Aran asked.
"Eh, she'll find a way. Trust me, it's easier to just let her do her thing than try to make her do otherwise. Anywho, I've got a criminal empire to run inconspicuously. Tell the family hello!"
And then the man was gone, with another flourish of his bowler hat. Aran glanced back at Neo, who had somehow completely finished her treat in the short time Aran had spoken to Roman.
"Oh, don't give me that look. It's gonna be fun!" the assassin said through her linkpearl. Aran merely shrugged and turned to Hades.
"You said you had something for me this morning?"
The Ascian nodded and reached into a pocket. What he withdrew was something that Aran recognized as a container for untested creatures made by Creation magicks, to be submitted for approval.
"I have two things, actually. The first is this; inside, you shall find not a Creation, but the raw matter needed to Create. Use it wisely; I know you're creative, but this is a finite resource at this time. Second, the reasoning for my absence the past week. I've been spending time in the piece of Azyz Lla we found, looking for anything to tell us why it's there, or even why eikons exist here. I think I've formed a theory, but until I confirm it's validity, I don't think I'll bother you with it. You have plenty on your plate already."
His apparent status report, as well as the fact that he slinked away, back straight and head held high, made Aran glance at him in slight confusion. Shrugging to herself, she continued onwards to find Summer and Thancred discussing something that seemed to be related to gunblades and the proclivity for Huntsmen and Huntress weapons to be both a firearm and melee weapon.
"Thancred, I need a favor," Aran said.
"I'm all ears."
"I need someone to keep running the former Beacon students through drills. Y'shtola would do it, but she's working on something for Qrow. My mind turns to you in her stead, as you've witnessed and participated in my drills. And I know you won't let them slack."
Summer chuckled.
"If you're worried about them slacking, then I'd be happy to help you too."
Off to the side, Taiyang was seen shivering as he heard his wife, though he said nothing and resumed his discussion with Yang and Ruby. The man had taken to helping Yang rehabilitate personally, surprising Aran with his apparent medical knowledge. After a discussion with Summer, Aran learned that Tai, while being the martial artist of their group, was also a fairly accomplished physical therapist; apparently he was the only one on the isle of Patch.
Returning to the present, Aran nodded to Summer.
"That would be appreciated, Summer. But you have your own health to worry about."
That was a fact. While Summer's mind was one of the sharpest Aran had the pleasure of knowing on Remnant when it came to combat, her physical capabilities in her diminished state were barely enough to hold her own against Ruby. The only reason the mother had won against her daughter was simply due to experience, and her Aura capacity being several times larger than Ruby's. That was something that had surprised Aran as well, since she had never seen another Huntsman or Huntress take as much of a beating as she had, Hazel and Jaune included.
That sparring match had also shown that Ruby fully understood how serious their training should be taken. Like Aran had taught her, the young Reaper didn't hesitate to aim for lethal blows. The comments Raven had made, as well as what came after, remained clear in Aran's mind.
"This is pathetic." Raven stated with a shake of her head. "She used to be so much more. Now even her daughter's a match for her."
Beside the female Branwen twin, the Warrior found herself frowning at Raven's words. Despite that, Aran still found herself pondering if there was a way to help Summer's recovery. It was clear that Summer was still a very valuable combatant however.
She ducked beneath Crescent Rose and sidestepped Ruby's attempt at hitting her with the shaft. Ruby's foot shot out and caught her mother in the side, giving her time to bring the scythe around and slash once more. This time, the scythe was met by Summer's glaive and turned aside, allowing the elder Rose to plant the butt of her weapon into the back of her daughter's knee. Both Huntresses were nearing the end of their endurance, though it was clear that Summer's Aura had only dropped into the low green on their scrolls, while Ruby's had just decreased to the low yellow. Another hit, and she will lose.
That hit came in a flash of white and whirling silver when Summer began to spin the glaive into a flowing dance, advancing on her daughter without allowing her respite from the previous blow. Breathing hard, Summer overwhelmed Ruby via sheer number of attacks. Her Semblance couldn't be used to escape; her mother had already proven that running away did very little, when she stuck as close to her then as she did now.
Qrow, standing beside Raven and Aran, nodded to himself as he recognized the final flourish of Summer's dance. Ruby was forced to her knees, her mother's glaive only inches away from her heart.
"Do you yield?" Summer asked. Ruby nodded with a smile. As they began to discuss their fight, Aran turned to address Raven's criticism.
"She was comatose for years, Raven. It will take time. Besides, we haven't seen you in action yet. Care to test yourself against me?"
Of course, there was more to Aran's challenge than just wanting to see what Raven was capable of. Y'shtola had approached her a day before, stating that the woman had the same layered aether that both Amber and Gretchen possessed. The only thing in common with those two were that they were Maidens, which meant that Raven was likely one as well. Aran aimed to make her reveal herself.
The female Branwen frowned and crossed her arms.
"I don't see why I should."
"Perhaps, but I'm sure there's something I can goad you with. I do have a fairly large assortment of powerful artefacts… beat me, and I'll let you take your pick from one of them. Even show you how to use it properly."
That caused a twinkle to appear in Raven's eyes, though it was overshadowed by caution.
"Is that so? And what do you get if you win?"
Aran shrugged.
"To know what you're capable of. Knowledge is power, Raven."
After several more moments, Raven nodded. When she went to step into the center of their makeshift arena by the cliff, her brother stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
"Rav. Don't hold back, aim to kill. She'll be doing the same to you."
The woman rolled her eyes; it was clear where some of Yang's reactions may have unknowingly come from, despite never knowing her mother. Then she continued.
When Aran had reached her own place, Qrow opted to start their engagement.
Both women leapt forward, hands flashing to their respective weapons. While Aran drew her paired blades, Raven's own quickdraw sent a wave of fire towards the Viera with Omen.
Aran simply bore through the flames, trusting in her robe to protect her as she had done countless times in the past. Such trust was well deserved; the flames parted around her, while her longer sword cleaved through the air where Raven had been only moments before. The Branwen's attempted counter attack with Omen's fire Dust blade was met with Aran's shorter sword battering it aside much like a duelist would do with a main gauche, throwing Raven balance enough for the Viera to plunge the flat of her longer blade into Raven's stomach.
The blow sent Raven reeling backwards several yards. As she regained her bearings, she found herself on the defensive once more as Aran's knee passed by where her head had been. She wasn't expecting the leg to extend, catching the side of her head with Aran's foot. Thinking quickly in her slight daze, she forced herself further back from Aran in an attempt to get enough room to draw another Dust blade from Omen's sheath. Unfortunately, Aran seemed to know exactly what she was trying to do, even without the use of her Echo.
"I've fought a prince who used the same style as you, Raven. You'll have to use more than just your weapon!"
She cursed silently to herself as she vaguely recalled hearing about Qrow talking about someone named Zenos; apparently, the man also used Iaido. Then she would have to switch to something more… unorthodox.
She disappeared through a portal she created with a swipe of her hand; Yang was watching this as well, which proved to be a boon. The exit of her portal was a few feet away from her daughter, giving her all the time she needed to slam Omen into her sheath and bring out another Dust blade. Ice coated the ground in front of her when she drew it once more.
Her opponent stood over by the cliff edge, unwinded and waiting until she began to speak, her strange accent slipping through more than usual.
"Away from the bystanders, Raven. I don't want to hurt them with what's coming."
Raven's eyes widened as the Viera lifted her right arm up over her head, weapon pointing towards the sky. Then a red glow began emanating from the arm and to where she was pointing, visible flaming strands of… something, reaching out from her hand and arm. From there, an orb of fire began to form, growing in size rather quickly until the center began to turn into a molten core.
Off to the side, she heard Hades growl.
"Everyone needs to get back, now!"
From the molten orb, fireballs the size of her head began to streak towards her. She attempted to bat the first one aside with Omen, only to find the activated ice Dust melt after the first. She couldn't fault it when she felt the searing heat of it pass by her. She sidestepped the next fireball, as well as the one after. It was when the next one nearly fried her that she realized the fireballs were coming in greater numbers, and didn't look to be stopping any time soon. Growling, she dashed forward in an attempt to stop whatever it was Aran was doing.
And in so doing, felt the unbearable heat of the molten orb as she tried to approach. Omen slammed into its sheath to draw another blade of ice Dust in an attempt to provide relief if only for the barest moment. What came from Omen's sheath did help, if only briefly, before the activated ice Dust melted much like the one before. But it wasn't quite enough for her to reach Aran.
Gritting her teeth, she went for yet another ice Dust blade. Instead of activating the Dust, she kept it inert to prevent it melting and instead focused on supercooling the blade with her Maiden powers, hoping it would go unnoticed due to the intensity of the light coming from the small star Aran had created.
When she saw the Viera smirk, she knew that her gambit had failed; the fire emitting from her eyes had apparently been noticeable. Mentally, she cursed herself for not wearing her mask.
"And there's what I was waiting for, Raven. Spring, if I'm not mistaken?"
Throwing caution away, Raven propelled herself forward with a burst of wind, cooling the air around herself in the process with the power of a Maiden. Why had she allowed herself to fight Aran? Why hadn't she found an alternative to using the Spring Maiden's power? She couldn't find an answer beyond her own greed and arrogance, she decided.
Omen slashed forward, aiming for Aran's outstretched arm; it was the only part of her that wasn't currently protected by the robe. The Viera's smirk remained as she withdrew her arm from Omen's dangerous arc, while her shorter blade made to intercept Raven's path at her waistline.
The Branwen had no time to dodge; instead, she used the last moment before impact to create a shield of ice in an attempt to soften the strike. She was glad she did, though the shattered ice melted only moments later as she was forced away once more. As she landed, she wasn't prepared for another fireball to streak towards her from the molten core.
A gust of wind managed to deviate its course, but only slightly. Instead of making impact on the center of her torso, it caught her on her right hip.
But instead of dispersing, like the kind of fireballs she could create, she felt the fire begin to flood into her, bypassing her Aura partially and setting her nerves, quite literally, on fire.
She screamed, not so much due to the pain, but because of how unexpected it was with her Aura still up.
She dodged another fireball while gritting her teeth, then set to forming ice over her burn. She could feel the open air where the fire had turned her clothing to ash without even setting them ablaze, so she knew that her nerves weren't completely gone. She had a suspicion that the skin was charred however, as she felt it crack painfully in multiple places from her dodge.
Then her red eyes began to glow dangerously, having nothing to do with her Maiden abilities.
She would not be defeated so easily. She had not come this far for one person to overpower her so utterly, even if it was mostly because she was taken by surprise at what her opponent could do.
With a grunt, she dove away from the next fireball and thrust her hand to the sky. Thunder was heard over the crackle of the molten orb, though it seemed Aran hadn't heard it. The Viera instead slid her longer blade behind her, though Raven was unsure of why.
Good. After dodging the next wave of fire, she dashed forward with the aid of the wind once more. Without hesitation, she focused everything she had into one last strike against the Dragonsong. Lightning crackled to life around her, focused on her sword. The moment she swung for Aran, the thunder above broke into a bolt of lightning as well, coming straight for Aran while she moved to block Omen.
And then Raven saw that infuriating smirk on Aran's lips, as well as the spire of earth that had sprouted up behind her. Then, she noticed the tip of her longer sword impaled into the spire as it continued to rise above her, metallic hilt first.
Fury reigned as the lighting above deviated to the weapon and traveled harmlessly into the spire. So she channeled the anger into Omen in the moment before it made impact with Aran's own blade.
Apparently, the supercooled inert ice Dust couldn't contain amount of energy she had channeled into it. Instead of striking Aran, the blade simply crumbled away as lightning swarmed it, passing through Aran's guard and straight into the woman herself.
Raven had hoped to hear her scream when the lightning passed through her. She was disappointed when she saw her jaw clench tightly, just before the hilt of Aran's blade made impact with her temple.
Raven wouldn't wake up from the trauma induced by Aran's blow for several hours, thanks to it shattering her Aura. When she did wake, she found herself staring into the eyes of her twin and former lover, anger and disappointment clear in them. She wasn't sure why she felt her mouth go dry from their gazes. She could take their anger; she had for years. But the disappointment was new, and hurt more than she had imagined it would. Especially from Qrow.
She had a somewhat cathartic experience when she next saw Aran, and the already fading burns from the lightning she had subjected her to.
Despite this, she knew that the topic of the Spring Maiden required an uneasy explanation to her allies.
Aran heard Summer say something else, but she didn't understand the words.
"Sorry, lost in thought. What was that?"
Thancred raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything as Summer repeated herself.
"Oh, I said that it's no problem for me to encourage them to keep up their routine if they don't do it themselves. We'll make sure they stay in tip-top shape!"
"Then you have my thanks, Summer."
The woman smiled and nodded, then pointed behind the Viera.
"Any time. I would get to solving that before you do anything else, though."
Glancing over to where Summer had pointed, Aran felt a sigh coming along as she saw Nora sneaking up on Alisaie, a bag of what looked like sugar in one band, and a large glass of water in another.
"Where are we going now?" Asked the young Oscar Pine. The small town of Felden had been new to Oscar, though the voice in his head who called himself Ozma had guided him through it easily. The library was a small building set near the town's inn, and also happened to be Ozma's goal. From there, he had guided Oscar into its basement, and then had him pull on a series of books that turned out to be some kind of lock mechanism. The bookshelf had slid to the side, to reveal another room containing two more bookshelves, but no light. Fortunately, it seemed Ozma didn't need to see the books to know their titles and placement.
Oscar picked up several of the books, closed the secret door, and sat down in the dim light of the basement per Ozma's instructions. And from there, they read.
None of it made any sense to Oscar; Aether seemed like a strange concept, but then of course so did Aura. He didn't recognize a lot of the larger words, and it wasn't until he heard Ozma speaking in his head once more that he noticed the books weren't even in the language he knew how to read. So how was he reading it? No matter, it was still fairly interesting.
It seemed to Oscar that Ozma knew what was in the books already. After inquiring, the voice confirmed his thoughts.
"Oh. Yes, I wrote these books after all. Some of them are journals, some of them are simply memoirs. Still others contain knowledge that would be considered blasphemous to most these days. It's hidden for a reason, and layered with measures of protection. The main thing to know is that these books haven't been opened in a great many years, and for good reason. The things they talk about are things I never thought I would need to brush up on. The historical books among these are as accurate as I could make them, though a few of those events were things that even I wasn't alive for. Keep skimming through this book until you come across a section labeled The Fragmented Judicai, if you would. From there, search the section until you come across a point titled The Shard of Reflection."
That had been days ago. And now, Oscar found himself wondering where Ozma wanted him to go next. His pondering was answered almost immediately.
"Now, young Oscar, we need to meet with someone. You've always been a fan of heroes, have you not? Then I'm happy to inform you that you're going to be meeting several in the flesh. We're going to Vale."