Scions of Remnant

by Solthrin

The aether of the Lightwardens has been pressing Aran's limits for days now. She hoped the end would have come with the Lightwarden of Kholusia, only for it to flee. Now, the Light has begun to push past her breaking point. What happens when it breaks her control? Apparently, she finds another Shard. Rated M for gore and situations in future chapters.

22. Chapter 22: Hinderstap

A/N: So Hazel's last name is spelled Rainart. Whoops.

On a different note, you have my apologies for how long it took to upload! Work got busy busy in December, life got complicated in January, had to deal with moving in February, and overall just needed time to decompress stuff in March. Most of this was actually written in January though, except for perhaps the last couple thousand words.

Beyond that, I've been spending a lot of time on Elden Ring. Unfortunately, there is a thing I was going to do here that now looks like a copy of the whole Caelid and Scarlet Rot thing, which makes me sad, but I'm still going to roll with it with a few changes. Things must go on! As a separate note, I am not confident in the least in writing lines for Urianger. Going forward, I apologize in advance if his speech does not hold up to the lofty reaches of his intellect and archaic format.

There are lyrics to a song that have been slightly changed, as I am not a poet nor songwriter and I shudder to even think of the monstrosity that would come from my mind. The song is not mine, and it has been appropriately noted when it comes along.

I hope everyone's been doing okay! Please comment and criticize, be it good or bad! I thrive off that stuff, it's how I know if people like this story or not and I cannot improve without it!

Edit: For some reason, the entire chapter is bolded despite not being bold in the editor. Hopefully this edit fixes that.

Second edit: This story only takes events leading up to Endwalker as being canon. Reason being, this story was started before Endwalker, and trying to fit in every new detail from Endwalker would make many previously established facts contradict. So going forward, please be aware that a good portion of Endwalker isn't used here, though there will be a few things here and there that will be used. I wasn't aware that a certain thing in this that contradicts would have attracted as much attention as it has. My apologies.

---

Aran sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time, attempting to ignore Neo's poking at her shoulder.

"We're only a couple hours away now, Neo. You can stop asking if we're there yet."

In the back of the Bullhead, she could practically feel both Emerald and Ryne laughing inside at her interaction with Neo.

Which was fair. The small woman was nearly as much of a terror as Aran herself could be if she couldn't travel by Aetheryte or portals. Aran would like to think that she would have driven Alisaie insane by this point though. Again.

She smiled as she fondly remembered the female Leveilluer twin threatening and attempting to physically lift Aran and throw her overboard on the trip to Kurogane from Limsa Lominsa. While Aran certainly wouldn't consider herself a large woman except for her chest and height, she knew that her body was deceptively heavy due to her musculature and armor. Alisaie had only managed to move her a couple of inches, and completely worn herself out in the hour it had taken her to do so. Aran had found the entire ordeal extraordinarily entertaining. The icing on the cake had been that they had only been aboard for roughly a week by that point.

Aran's ears twitched as she heard some feet shuffling behind her. It was fairly common; being cooped up in the Bullhead for a day and a half to reach their destination was not a fun experience.

Ren, for his part, had spent the majority of the trip meditating, playing a game on his scroll, or otherwise watching from a window. He was understandably nervous; it would be the first time he was separated from Nora for any amount of time longer than a couple of hours since they had first come together. Despite this, Aran could still see more levity in his shoulders, as if a very large weight had been lifted from them.

Love Nora all he might, it was still a heavy responsibility to look after her.

Emerald had remained mostly silent beside Blake, both of them reading books. While Blake's looked to be romance novels, Emerald's taste seemed to be in fantasy novels. In her hands was a book titled The Lords of Chaos, only one of a long book series if the conversation they had earlier was any judge.

Ryne was also found to be reading a book, though hers was advanced aetherial theory. It was still at a point that Aran could help if she had questions, though Aran would shamelessly admit that she was quickly getting to a point where her own education in the matter was reaching its limits; it wouldn't be too much longer before Ryne had surpassed Aran in theoretical knowledge.

While Aran would admit this with no problem, she did keep the fact that a large portion of her spellcasting was tied to her instinct, apparently derived from Aranaea's own experience, hidden. Which made her own forays into Weaving all the more frustrating; Weaving took an extraordinary amount of talent to use, and she had only found one other that had the Talent to do so. Hythlodaeus was unique in many ways. And yet, she had created this branch of aetherial manipulation; so why was she having such a hard time understanding how to use it?

Mat cleared his throat from the copilot's seat. His feet were resting across Aran's lap (her first, third, and tenth attempts at brushing them off had led to him tipping his hat at her and replacing them back on her legs) while his hands rested behind his head. He had mostly remained in the same position except for when he needed to relieve himself or eat.

"There are a few things we should probably clear up now, before we land in or near Hinderstap," the Huntsman said suddenly. He removed his feet from Aran's lap and sat forward in his seat, turning it to face the interior of the Bullhead. Everyone on board stopped what they were doing to look at the man, except for Aran. The ship wouldn't pilot itself, after all.

Once he was sure he had everyone's attention, he continued.

"I may be from Hinderstap, but they will not be happy to see me. Well, maybe my sisters and my father will be, but not so much anyone else. And I don't blame them; I may or may not have left there as an honest person in order to pursue my Huntsman career."

Blake's ears twitched, but it was Emerald who spoke up first.

"You're not exactly among the most saintly group here. Half of us have stolen from and killed innocent people too. Two of us were terrorists before Aran came along."

The Viera cleared her throat.

"I would say I could fall under the umbrella of terrorist as well, though revolutionary sounds better to most; the deciding factor on the title is based on who succeeded. And Blake was already improving her lot in life before I came along."

Emerald waved her hand in dismissal.

"Yeah, sure. The point is whatever you did Mat, we've probably done equal or worse."

That seemed to cause Mat to blink, before his gaze fell back on Aran once more.

"Revolutionary? Where? I haven't heard of anything…" his words faltered as he took a deep breath. "Right. Erza. How bad was it?"

That caused Aran to cock her head; technically, she had fought against the Garleans since her defection with her legion, and thus had a large number of years to account for. It was a few moments as she attempted to tally the potential deaths before she decided on simply relying on the reports she could even now clearly recall being shuffled toward her by messengers from the Eorzean Alliance members and those brought to her by her legion when Ala Mhigo fell to Gaius.

"Hmmm…. Hard to say. At the end of the day, the butcher's bill is paid by all. Throughout the years, I'm positive the butcher was paid in millions between the Garlean Republic, eventually to become an Empire, and the numerous lands it conquered. If you're asking about myself personally, we'd have to cover about four centuries." Aran ignored the stangled gasps her companions made as she partially revealed her age. "And that is a number I truly couldn't tell you. Suffice it to say that entire battlefields have been shifted by my magicks and blade, if not entirely settled by them. You have to understand, Matrim Cauthon, that I am a savior to those I fight beside. But on the other side of the field, I am seen as a monster, a creature responsible for the deaths of many loved ones and the very eikons that the different peoples revere as gods. In your Great War, I would be akin to that of King Vale to your people. But to the other side, I am the equivalent of the King of Mistral, whatever his name was. That is simply the truth of it."

Mat sat in silence, crossing his arms as he seemed to look at Aran in a new light.

"And you've learned to live with that? Being seen as a great hero to one side, a terrible butcher to the other?"

At that, Aran's head tilted.

"Truthfully? I care little for what people think of me, so long as it's not worship. For me, that is a much more dangerous prospect than facing a Lightwarden again. I will deal with being someone's knight in shining armor the same as I will with being the monster 'neath their bed. Which is to say, I don't care either way. Now, out with what you did."

Mat sighed.

"Well, now that you've revealed that tidbit, I suppose this is nothing in comparison. I was part of Hinderstap's guard, newly recruited, when Grimm attacked us. Nothing big mind you, but still enough to overwhelm us if we weren't careful. My commanding officer was… Not intelligent, to put it lightly, and he wanted my squad to charge right into a couple of Ursai. With rifles that barely counted as pea shooters. So I told him to go burn himself. The other recruits agreed, and we knocked him out and did what we could to help the situation. After that I took the blame for our dereliction of duty, and I thought it best to make tracks out of town before the rest of town knew what happened."

Aran nodded, followed by the rest of the Bullhead's occupants.

"Then fret not, Matrim -"

"Blood and ashes woman, my name is Mat!"

"- I imagine most everyone involved has forgiven you, except for your officer."

The man grumbled some more, before pointing to the horizon.

"Look ahead. Our destination is approaching."

---

Pyrrha Nikos felt conflicted; nothing new, but something had happened to bring that inner conflict to the fore.

Apparently, she wasn't hiding it well. Jaune nudged her shoulder as she sat at a table inside the diner he had picked out for their team to eat at with RWBY and CRDL.

"Yes, Jaune?" She asked with a smile.

"Are you okay over there, Pyr? You've been looking lost in thought for the last… half hour?" Jaune responded, glancing at his scroll. Normally, he would have been needing to try and keep an eye on Nora, but both she and Ruby had been going back and forth about explosives. He figured that as long as neither of them began to tinker with anything, then they were fine.

His answer caused the Champion to blink.

"Half an hour? Oh, I'm so sorry Jaune! I didn't mean to be ignoring you!"

The blonde smiled as he tried to call Pyrrha down with hand gestures.

"Nope, don't worry about it! Seriously, it's fine. What are you thinking about?"

Once more, Pyrrha's thoughts turned towards what Aran had said when she found her in her dorm at Beacon.

"Why didn't I remember giving you the same advice all those years ago?" Aran had said. But why? Was Pyrrha perhaps someone she knew, reincarnated? Or, as Aran had put it once, spun back into the world from the Lifestream?

She had to have answers, and while she trusted Aran, she had to find an unbiased opinion.

Y'shtola was not an option. Aran's lover was certainly among the most intelligent and overall knowledgeable people Pyrrha had ever known and, if she had to guess, would ever meet, but she was heavily biased towards Aran. No, Pyrrha had to find another. And she knew just who to approach.

She stood from her seat in the diner and began to make her way out, oblivious to the strange looks she attracted from Jaune and the others.

Once she was gone, Jaune glanced at Ruby, while Nora zipped over to him faster than he wanted.

"Jaune! What did you do? She didn't even say goodbye to us!"

Jaune merely shrugged, worried about his partner's distance over the last day or so.

---

Hades had found himself sitting on Aran's bed, having donned his own Ascian robes after she left. He was conflicted as he looked over at G'raha's failing body. Y'shtola had done all she could for the Miqo'te, and had moved on to the bookish Elezen named Urianger. While she wasn't present now, having gone to work on something for Qrow, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the Elezen awoke. All that needed to happen was for his aether to finish stabilizing enough for his body to return to its normal rhythm. Which should be happening anytime in the next few hours.

His conflict however, was not about either of Aran's companions, but rather about what he already knew to be fact and had withheld from the one he had recently devoted himself to. She had much on her mind already; he would not seek to add more to it. Not when he could solve the problem himself. But he would admit that he had found deceiving her to be much harder on his mental health now than it ever had been before.

The Azyz Lla fragment he had found was in fact not the only piece, but one of several, scattered throughout the Kingdom of Vale. While he had not found the other pieces himself, he had been asked by the strange Doctor Oobleck to look at some photos that he himself had taken in his youth when he had been an active Huntsman and archeologist.

Indeed, he had identified several other fragments of the Allagan facility. The habitat hub for sure, and what could have been the central hub for environmental controls. But more importantly was what else he had seen.

Among his photos, Oobleck had taken one of a singular structure, stretching into the skies atop a lonely mountain. A tower that Oobleck had thought to be used to keep an eye on the surrounding area, a watchtower.

It was one of the skyscraping structures of Amaurot, a very familiar one for that matter. It was Azem's home, though The Traveler had almost never used it.

And more besides. He recognized other pieces of things important to the myriad Shards of the Planet, and eventually came to a realization.

Like the Source reflected the aetherial Calamities of the other Shards, this Shard reflected the physical remnants. It was why Azem's things, and her physical body, had ended up here so long ago. Why Azyz Lla existed here, when it shouldn't by any right be here. Why pieces of Amaurot, of Etheirys, were here, as well as on the First. And that, he decided, was perhaps the most terrifying thing.

He had no notion of what else may be here. What if Bahamut's Coils were buried somewhere, or Dalamud itself hidden behind the shattered moon of Remnant?

There were so many things he didn't know.

His internal pondering was interrupted as he heard the semi-familiar footsteps of the fragment of Hythlodaeus - Aran knew him far better than he did, he would trust Aran's judgment that Pyrrha was Hythlodaeus - and looked over to the red-haired warrior. The look of determination on her face was nothing new, but he could feel the uncertainty she hid behind it.

"Hades, I need to ask you a question." She stated, stopping just before the sitting man. He had to look up at her; even sitting, he was a tall man, but Pyrrha was nearly the same height as he without her heels.

"Yes, I suppose that would be the only reason for you to approach me looking like someone had just pulled a rug from beneath your feet. Ask, and I will answer to the best of my ability."

She took a breath and looked him in the eyes. He was quite impressed with the steel she possessed in that singular look.

"Who am I to Aran?"

And that caused Hades to blink.

"That's a good question, probably one you should pose to her yourself. I cannot read minds, and never have I been able to accurately guess what Aranaea was thinking."

She shook her head, not accepting his answer.

"No. Who I was to her, would perhaps be a better question. She let something slip that I don't believe she intended, or even noticed. Am I a fragment of someone she once knew? That you may have known?"

Ah. Now he understood.

"Of course. We knew many people, but your soul is a piece of someone we both held close as a good friend. Hythlodaeus, and he was far closer to Aranaea than I could have ever hoped to be. Not a lover, mind you, she had no place in her life for personal intimacy of that kind. She had her physical pleasures taken care of by traveling companions. Worry not on that front."

His words caused her to blush.

"What? No, that's not- nevermind. I never thought she held that kind of feeling for me, and I'm glad to be reassured of it I suppose? But if she knows who my soul belonged to, then is she only acting like my friend because of that former friendship?"

Hades chuckled.

"Oh, certainly not. Her friendship with you is genuine; in truth, you are very little like Hythlodaeus beyond your devotion and support for her. Just because you possess a fragment of someone's soul does not mean you are them, Pyrrha. Some of us are able to influence the person we become, but Hythlodaeus has always been just that: Hythlodaeus. Never would his quirks and eccentricities afflict those he became, for he was not like those who sat upon the Convocation of Fourteen. If Aran hadn't figured out who you were, I would have never guessed that you were our old friend. She is your friend for who you are, Pyrrha, not who you once were many, many years ago."

He stood then, motioning towards his robes.

"We are Ascians, and I, one of the few Unsundered remaining. I do remember Hythlodaeus fondly, if with some irritation in regards to the troubles he and Aranaea caused the Convocation together. Just as I went against the Convocation's wishes to create a vessel for the memories of Azem, so too did I perhaps break that rule more than once. You are worried that you are not yourself, and instead only a pale imitation of a former life. I can give you the memories of Hythlodaeus should you so choose; Not even Aran is aware that I created a vessel for him, as I did for her. But I will not do so until you come to me, certain of your decision, and accepting of what you shall find, be it good or ill. Should you never come to me again, I shall think no less of you, just as I shall think no worse or greater of you should you come to me again. But make no mistake, Hythlodaeus will not make an appearance in you without the crystal. Aran's soul is unique, her memories stored in her very being. You, and indeed any other sundered Ascian, shall not recover memories without the proper instruments."

He began to walk away, then stopped after only a few steps.

"Whatever you decide, Aran will think no different of you. This I can assure you. She is much more forgiving and willing to see beyond what she sees in front of her now than she ever did as Aranaea. I believe we should go find Y'shtola and Thancred; Urianger has been awake the past few minutes."

Pyrrha's head snapped over to where the Elezen lay, eyes widening as she beheld his pale yellow, almost silver, eyes. Her hand shot up to her linkpearl in an instant, summoning both of the individuals that Hades had mentioned.

---

Hinderstap was… quite different from what Aran had been imagining. She had expected something similar to what she had seen of Vale's architecture, yet what she saw from the Bullhead was something else entirely.

It was of decent size. A fairly sizable port dominated the side of the cliff the town rested on, stretching out on the water for nearly a mile. It was clear that some portion of it was residential housing, though most of it seemed to be shipping and docking yards laid out in grids with wooden bridges that looked to raise and lower to allow the passage of ships. Several walkways wound up the cliffside up to what Aran decided was likely where most of the citizens resided. After the houses, fields of harvested crops for the coming winter were seen, and several miles past that was a visible wall that seemed to extend all the way around the town to the cliffside and down into the sea for a few hundred feet.

It was an impressive display, Aran would admit. But it was marred by several plumes of smoke coming from several points in the fields. From where she was in the Bullhead, she could see several people moving towards each of the plumes quickly, as well as several more running away from them and towards the wall.

"What do you think is going on?" Blake asked. "To me, it looks like a hit and run. Adam's White Fang did it all the time."

Aran nodded in agreement.

"That's what it looks like to me too. But why? Do we have anyone hailing us yet, Mat?"

The man shook his head.

"Not yet. I can speed this up though. See the cliff edge there, and the platforms built into it? That's Hinterstap's Sky Port. I don't see any Bullheads or other aircraft on the platforms, so something big has to be going on. Go ahead and take us down on the far left platform, that one is for visiting aircraft. We shouldn't need to contact anyone but the port official once we land."

Doing as Mat asked, Aran couldn't help but frown as she watched the retreating figures in the distance. As she set the Bullhead down, she noticed a fairly squat man approaching them and motioning for them to get out. Following him were four armed guards, all of them dressed in what Aran decided was the local guardsman uniform; a dark green suit with what looked like leather covering the vital points on the body. No helmets were seen, though the four behind the man were clearly carrying some form of rifle.

It didn't take any convincing of the others; all of them were out in mere moments, glad to be out of the Bullhead. Most wore what they had worn in Vale, though Aran quickly doffed her robes and pauldrons to reveal something she hadn't worn in a long while; traditional Vieran garments from the Range. Her companions' eyes had nearly bugged out of their heads when they saw how much skin she was showing, though she paid them no mind. She knew her appearance could be just as effective a weapon as her sword, and solve things that a sword could not. Despite this, her gauntlet and bandages remained to cover her corrupted arm. Her swords remained belted as they had been on her belt.

Her attention was on their welcoming party, however. The man in front was even shorter than Aran had thought when he came closer and began to speak in a nasaly voice, his eyes running over her form appreciatively. She could practically feel both Mat and Ren giving the man glares as he did so, causing her to roll her eyes in amusement. If just being noticed like she was now by the man sent them both into a protective fit, she could hardly imagine what they would do if they had to see the lengths she would go to in manipulating the man in front of them. She had worked as a very successful escort before; it wasn't as if she had never done this.

"Hold there, travelers! I'll need to see some form of identification from each of you and a reason for coming to Hinderstap!"

They all withdrew scrolls and navigated them to their Huntress and Huntsman license in Aran and Mat's case, and Huntress and Huntsmen-in-training licenses in the rest of their case. Neo held up what Aran was sure was a fake Huntress license, created by her Semblance.

The man seemed to ignore everyone's scrolls besides Aran's after giving them a brief glance - certainly not long enough to have read them, and apparently not even their names if Mat's hadn't received any reaction. But with Aran's, he spent a particularly long time glancing from her photo on the scroll back to the Viera and back to the scroll. Eventually Aran cleared her throat and crossed her arms beneath her chest.

"Is there a problem, officer?" She asked.

"There doesn't seem to be one." The man stated finally. He crossed his arms behind his back, though his eyes remained on her form. "For what reason are you here, Aran Vinland? Vale's Champion has no business here, pleasant though your presence may be."

"Family call for Clarke. I have some important information to give to her."

At the mention of Clarke's name, the man tensed up, his eyes darting up from where they were roaming to fall on Aran's eyes.

"Clarke isn't taking visitors right now. It would be best if you leave."

Aran sighed and took a step forward, reaching for her hair with her unarmored hand.

"Oh, well that's poor luck indeed. May I ask why? It would be a shame for my companions and I to come all this way and be turned away without even knowing the reason."

The man gulped slightly.

"I- well, she's under investigation for instigating the rebels from her position. No visitors for those under investigation."

"That does make sense. Well then I suppose there's nothing for it, we'll just have to leave. Let's get back on board, we're going back to Vale." As she spoke she turned and motioned her troupe to enter the Bullhead, swaying her hips as she turned and walked perhaps a bit more than she normally did. Her companions looked startled and ready to speak up, if not for the actions of Mat. Apparently, he knew what she was doing.

"It's a shame, but it is what it is. You heard the woman, back on board."

As they moved, Aran nearly smiled as she heard the officer's feet shuffle slightly, and after a few moments finally spoke up.

"Well, having you all stay for the night wouldn't hurt. You're welcome to stay until tomorrow, but I can't promise more."

Aran turned around with a bolt of energy that could have rivaled Nora, smiling widely at the officer as she approached him with her arms wide. Before he could respond, she had lifted him up into a hug and spun him around, before placing him back down next to the confused guards behind him.

The man's face was red, though he wisely said nothing until he could control his fluster.

"Er, yes. I could give you a tour through Hinderstap if you wish, find you an excellent place to eat?"

Inwardly, Aran snorted at the man's gullibility, but she gave him a smile and nodded.

"That would be wonderful, captain…?"

She knew he was no captain, likely not even an important rank of any kind. But it never hurts to compliment them as such. Men and women were both more than accepting of that kind of praise.

"First lieutenant Bilger, actually." Judging by the expressions of the guards behind him, that wasn't his rank either. A glance at Mat out of the corner of her eye led to him mouthing a quick "second" to her that went unnoticed to the others.

"Well, Lieutenant Bilger, I would be more than pleased to accept your invitation. But first, my companions and I need to secure sleeping arrangements."

The squat man nodded sagely.

"Of course, of course. First I'll need you to sign this, then I can direct you to where you can pay the docking fee. Of course, I can take you myself if you would like help."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his own scroll, extending it and holding it out to Aran. She took it and read the docking agreement before signing. It was actually a very well written document, without any hidden fees or traps, and presented Hinderstap's seal, proving it was valid. She wondered if the man in front of her had ever read the thing; diplomatic parties were exempt from paying any docking fees, among other things. She quickly sent the document to her own scroll before handing his scroll back.

"I think we can manage, but thank you. When you have a moment we'll be… where did you say, Mat?"

A look of suspicion crossed Bilger's face when he heard the name and saw Aran turn to look at the other Huntsman.

"We'll be at the Nine Horse Hitch, if it's still run by Abel Cauthon."

"Abel… Mat? Matrim Cauthon, Abel's son and deserter?" Bilger asked. Before he could say any more, Aran interrupted him, her tone longer meant to ease the man.

"Matrim Cauthon, Huntsman of Vale and the escort of my diplomatic party. He is under diplomatic immunity and any action against him is an action against me." As she spoke, Bilger took a step back as if she were going to strike him. Nobody that heard her could blame him; the savagery hidden beneath her accent had slipped through.

After that, her tone returned to the carefree, almost seductive tone that she had been using beforehand.

"Now then, we're off to the Nine Whores' Hitch!"

"Horse, Aran! Nine Horse Hitch!"

Aran cocked her head and pouted, leaving Bilger and his crew confused and perhaps wondering if there was something wrong with the faunus in front of them.

"Who came up with that name? Mine's better, and much more enjoyable."

"My grandfather, thankyouverymuch. Just… move, you're causing a scene and we haven't even been here for more than five minutes! Blood and ashes, woman." Move I say!"

Bilger cleared his throat in the midst of Aran's laughter at Mat's antics, pulling out several leather straps from a pocket. Then he held them out expectantly.

"All visitors are required to bind their weapons to their sheaths, cases, or holsters with these leather cords. A security issue, you see. There's a sensor in each one that alerts us if it has been unbound, and any crimes committed at weapon-point or, gods forbid, a murder, then this will allow us to detect who committed the crime. "

Aran simply chuckled as she took them and handed them out to her companions, earning her a glance from them that bespoke their wondering if she had gone insane. A moment later, her paired swords were bound to their sheaths, as were her companions as they each found a way to uphold Hinderstap's security. Then she was moving, motioning for Mat to guide them.

Watching them move along, Bilger frowned. Once he was certain the group was beyond hearing range, he turned to the closest man behind him.

"Inform Faolin of their arrival. Make sure she knows that they asked about Clarke by name, and I want surveillance on their sensors at all times."

---

As Mat guided them through the streets, Aran would readily admit that the town had certainly seen better days. Despite this, the community was fairly welcoming.

They had stopped to ask a passerby about what they had seen in the air; the response was fairly troubling, though no surprise.

"That would be the work of those damned rebels. Fighting over nothing, I say. Though if you were to ask one of them, I'd bet my good boots that they would claim to be rising against a supposed cult that controls us. Idiots, the lot o' them." Answered a male street vendor that looked to be on the tail end of his middle years. "Now enough o' that matter. Are you buying anything or not?"

Aran bought a small hairpin from the man to placate him before they continued onwards. It didn't take long before they arrived at a somewhat dirty looking tavern, the sign above the doorway displaying a hitch, along with a horse being led to it by a woman. A glance at Mat confirmed that it was their destination.

"Well then, in we go!" Aran stated cheerily, before donning a pout. "I still think my name for it was better, mind you."

Mat shook his head with a sigh as he pushed open the door and held it for his companions.

The sound of a busy tavern was immediate; rolling dice, clinking mugs, roars of laughter, and sometimes anger. Accompanying these sounds was a female voice, telling what sounded to be a rather risqué tale. Aran entered with a beaming smile at the familiar ambience, singling out the woman telling the melodious story before she went and sat down amongst some men gambling with dice.

Her companions watched her with raised eyebrows at the ease with which she had settled into the tavern.

"Apparently," Mat mumbled just loud enough for the others to hear, "she's no stranger to taverns."

Ryne chuckled beside him as she stepped forward.

"No, she certainly isn't. If we're lucky, perhaps she'll grace us with her singing. She has excellent chords, you know. Or so Y'shtola and the twins have claimed at any rate; I can't claim to have heard them myself."

As the group began to move deeper into the tavern, a comely woman that looked to be in her late forties seemingly appeared next to them, bowing her head slightly with a warm smile.

"Welcome to my tavern. You lot look to be Huntresses and Huntsmen, first round for you will be on the house." She began to turn away, only for her gaze to catch on Mat. The man smiled nervously and took off his hat.

"It's been awhile, mother."

Her smile dropped immediately as she crossed her arms.

"Matrim Cauthon, you dare darken my doorstep after nearly ten years of ignoring your family?"

His hands looked ready to strangle his hat as he tried to think of something to say. He was still trying to find his words when her demeanor changed abruptly, flinging her arms around her son to wrap him in a hug. She remained like this for nearly a minute before she released him and finally took in his companions in their entirety, glancing at Aran's back as she tried to piece together who they all were. Eventually, she seemed to give up.

"You've brought some interesting guests home, Mat. Why don't you introduce them to me?"

"Oh, er, right. This is my mom, Natti. And this here's Emerald, that's Blake, the only other guy here is Ren, and our youngest member here is Ryne. They're all Huntresses and Huntsman in training. Are you really more interested in them than you are to see me?"

Natti ignored his question as she seemed to read each of them until she gestured behind herself towards where Aran had sat down.

"And how about her? You're not embarrassed at introducing a wife to me, are ya boy?"

Mat blinked, while the rest of his companions donned smirks.

"Wife? Aran? Why would you think she's my wife? Not that she's not beautiful mind you, or an excellent personality, but…"

His sputtering slowed as he noticed the slight tugging of his mother's lips into a smile.

"You're a witch. But no, she's not my wife. She's already spoken for, so I've heard."

Nodding, Natti turned slightly so she could see the Viera.

"She's certainly an interesting one. Is she a Huntress?"

"Erm… yes. I'm surprised you haven't heard of her."

Mat's mother glanced at him with a look, warning him to stay away from that topic.

"You know my rules, boy. No politics in my tavern. Shut yer mouth 'fore Abel tosses ya out."

Aran, for her part, smiled as she sat back in the seat she had taken as she observed her dice roll next to several cards. It was no good, but then again she wasn't here to win. She wanted information.

"Better luck next roll, Buns." A softer female voice said. Aran turned to see who said it, finding a young woman wearing a brown hood, silver locks of hair escaping from its confines to reach down to her chest. The ends of her hair were apparently dyed red.

"I'm here for a good time, not to win any money. But if it happens, then it happens." Aran replied as she swept up the dice and cup. The woman who spoke before shrugged and grabbed her own dice and cup, glancing around at the other people at the table. A couple bowed out, but most grabbed their gambling tools and tossed lien into the pot at the center of the table. Aran mimicked the betting gesture with a lien card of her own, being the last person who did so.

As they rolled, the hooded woman glanced at Aran once more.

"Those swords look excellent, or at least their sheaths do. Are you by chance a Huntress?"

Aran raised an eyebrow, beginning to bounce her leg beneath the table. One might take it as nervousness, but it was her way of ensuring a pickpocket hadn't come by.

"I am. What of it?"

The woman didn't answer immediately as she placed a card on the table, followed by another before setting her hand down, dice unrolled. The next player began to do the same when she answered.

"I might be interested in knowing if you were already on the job. The rest of your companions, minus the fellow talking to Natti, seem to be a little young to be licensed."

Aran placed a card and glanced back towards her companions, nodding to herself as she noticed Mat's obvious discomfort with whatever conversation he was having. She rolled her dice and shrugged as she realized that she hadn't won anything, but neither was she out of the pot. She motioned for the next player to continue before she finally replied to the woman.

"They're under my wing, figured they could use some field experience. Matrim's presence is purely coincidental. He has a goal, though I find myself in a lull for work. Perchance you would be able to fix that?"

The woman seemed to think for a moment, tilting her head in a fashion not unlike Aran's own, much to her amusement.

"I might have a thing or two that I can hire you for. If you don't mind getting your hands dirty."

The game paused at her words, a few of the players exchanging glances before the closest one to the woman leaned in to whisper in her ear. She seemed to listen, nodding at whatever was said, then smiled.

"Yes, I do believe this is an excellent idea." She reached under her cloak and into a pocket, then withdrew a piece of paper. She held out a hand and asked for a pen. Once her neighbor produced one, she scribbled something on it and slid it across the table.

"My associates and I would appreciate it if you could meet us here tomorrow morning, just after dawn. I may not be present, as other duties may call for me, but you will meet someone named Aurora who can tell you what the job is."

Once she was sure Aran had read the paper, she pulled it back and stuffed it back beneath her cloak. When she stood, the Viera shot her a questioning look.

"I don't believe I caught your name?" Aran asked.

"No, you didn't."

And then she was gone. The last player played their cards and rolled their dice. A glance was all anyone needed to know that they had lost; Aran's hand had tied with the woman's, though the same person that loaned her the writing utensil pushed the pot in the center towards Aran.

"She's only here for entertainment. Pot's all yours." The gambler said, before they too stood to leave. The rest of the table followed shortly after, leaving Aran to take the lien out of the pot, then stand and join her companions once more.

"Ah, joined us again, have you?" Mat said in an attempt to get out of the conversation he was having with his mother.

"Indeed. And I snagged a job being provided by the reason we're here in the first place. Arget's description was fairly accurate, I suppose."

Mat blinked.

"Wait, she was here? Why would she be here of all places?" He asked. Then his gaze swiveled back to his mother. "Why is-"

Whatever he was going to ask was silenced as he met Natti's eyes, her disapproving frown clearly something the man was terrified of.

"Boy, I said no politics in my tavern. Who am I to judge if someone wishes to get a drink or two in secrecy, especially if they have things on their shoulders that would crush most people? Leave it there, or Abel will throw you out faster than you ran away. Now then, I'm Natti, dearie. Who might you be? This troublemaker of mine still hasn't answered the question in total."

Aran raised an eyebrow, but answered anyway.

"I've been told my name is Aran since I was but a kit, I think it should do nicely."

"And a smartass to boot! You know how to pick the right woman for you, Mat. Good on ya."

That left Aran to cock her head, a twitch of her lips alerting Mat to the peril he was in if Aran spoke. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't reach her before she did so.

"Oh, I don't know Natti. He's handsome enough, sure, but his manners. I mean, how can someone be so messy when they eat? Crumbs everywhere! I think he may have even gotten soup in my hair at one point!"

Mat gulped as he felt his mother's eyes bore holes into his skull, at least until Aran giggled somewhat uncharacteristically.

"I jest, Natti. Don't wring the poor boy's neck, he'll need it in the coming days."

A sigh escaped the matron's mouth as she rolled her eyes.

"Yes, a fine fit she would be. Are you sure you aren't interested in my son? He would do well with such a lively woman in his life."

"As dashing and witty as he is, I'm afraid I'm already spoken for. He'd have to get permission from my beloved to share me, and she's not one to share outside of jokes and necessary circumstances. Quite possessive, that one."

Ryne snorted, drawing their attention.

"Oh! Sorry, I'm just trying to imagine how to explain that one to Y'shtola. I'm not entirely sure who would be dead first; Mat, or you."

Almost in unison, the rest of their companions answered for her.

"Mat."

Aran chuckled.

"And so the verdict is cast. While I cannot please you in that regard Natti, mayhaps I can give a song to the tavern. Assuming your girl up there gets tired."

Natti nodded.

"I'll let her know she can take a break. If I may ask, what kind of tale do you intend to tell? As I've reminded my boy multiple times tonight, I don't do politics in my tavern."

"No politics, promise. Tell me, do your people appreciate more than bawdy stories?"

Natti simply nodded, leading Aran to reach into her bag and withdraw a thirteen-stringed lyre, made out of what looked to be a skull of a creature unknown to any but those who were familiar with the Range she called home, with tusks protruding perfectly to form the arms holding the strings. She plucked a couple strings experimentally, then nodded to herself. She glanced around for a stool and then began to make her way to the girl, who finished her tale.

Natti nodded to the girl, who stepped down and allowed Aran up.

The stool plopped down unceremoniously before the Viera followed suit, plucking at a couple stings as she seemed to be gathering her words. Men and women, previously roaring in laughter, lust, anger, and any variety of emotions between, quieted down. It didn't take long before the crowd realized she wasn't idly plucking, but instead the notes were forming into a steady melody that was easy on the ears. Natti had never heard the notes before, or at least not the pleasing sound emanating from the macabre instrument.

(A/N: I am not a musician, nor am I a poet. I wish I possessed that kind of talent, but I don't. So these lyrics are actually Hope of Morning, by Icon for Hire, with a minor change to make it appropriate to Aran.)

"My mind's a kaleidoscope, it thinks too fast

Blurs all the colors 'til I can't see past

The last mistake, the choice I made

Staring in the mirror with myself to blame

Sometimes I'm afraid of the thoughts inside."

Behind Natti, Aran's companions blinked. Most turned to Ryne, giving her a questioning look about if she knew about Aran's ability to sing. She simply shrugged, gesturing for them to pay attention. They would admit that her accent made the song somehow more pleasant

"Nowhere to hide inside my mind

I'm scared that you'll compare and I'll look a lifetime past repair

I second guess myself to death, I re-solicit every step

What if my words are meaningless? What if my heart's misleading this?"

"I try to capture every moment as it comes to me

Bottle up the memories and let them keep me company

When the hope of morning starts to fade in me

I don't dare let darkness have its way with me

And the hope of morning makes me worth the fight

I will not be giving in tonight.

When I'm old and grey

I'll need you to reassure me I didn't waste a verse

Or worse, what if my life's work is reduced to just myself

Like never let you get a word in, while I dissect my mental health

Or lack thereof, whatever, there's too many things to track

I really can't remember if I'm insane or insomniac.

Now days, all the kits want crazy, wanna diagnose themselves

But my disorder can't be cured by a bottle, blade, or dose

Self-disgust and selfishness tend to hold me awfully close

But I don't wanna let you see that, I don't want my friends to know

Self-disgust and selfishness take me everywhere I go.

When the hope of morning starts to fade in me

I don't dare let darkness have its way with me

And the hope of morning makes me worth the fight

I will not be giving in tonight

Try as I might to keep it together

Why is recovery taking forever

Fool the whole world, just until I get better

I'm terrified I'll be faking forever

On and on I wonder what went wrong inside my head.

I don't have to have the answers, but tonight I wish I did

All the pain I can't explain away won't fade

All the secrets silenced by the shame

Don't make me say it

When the hope of morning starts to fade in me

I don't dare let darkness have its way with me

And the hope of morning makes me worth the fight

I will not be giving in tonight."

As she finished, she kept plucking for a few more notes, then let her lyre fall silent. The tavern slowly came back to life with an applause, and more than a couple people giving Aran a second, deeper look than they had done originally.

She stood, grabbed her stool, and returned to her companions after returning the stool to where she found it. She still held her lyre, which drew more attention from Blake than Aran had thought. The cat faunus took a step closer to look, until Aran simply held it out to her.

"You can simply ask to see it, Blake. It is not fragile; take it to sate your curiosity for tonight."

The faunus thanked her, but still gingerly took the instrument as if it were porcelain.

"Blake, I can throw it at a stone wall and it would do more damage to the stone than to my lyre. Even if you did manage to damage it, I can just make another. One of my pastimes when I still resided in the Skatay Range was the creation of such instruments."

The huntress-in-training nodded, grasping the lyre more firmly as she looked it over.

Smiling, Aran returned her attention to Natti.

"So how much for a few rooms?"

---

Aran released a sigh as she sat down on the large bed in the room she was sharing with Neo; none of the others would have been able to put up with the mute, while she likely wouldn't have been able to resist stabbing them either. Blake and Ryne had their own room, and Ren likewise had his own room to himself. Mat apparently still had a room to call his own, thanks to his parents.

Neo herself stood by the sole window looking out of the room with a frown and her arms crossed, one of her fingers tapping her bicep. After a couple more minutes, she turned to Aran with a look of concern while her hand moved up to her linkpearl.

"That job sounds rather shady. Are you really going to take it?"

Aran shrugged.

"Probably. She may not have given me her name, but her hair is naturally silver. I'd hedge my bet on her being Arget's granddaughter."

Using her Semblance, Neo copied Aran's ears and mimicked her head tilt.

"And if you're wrong and she isn't?"

"Then I'll find Clarke. Don't you need sleep?"

"Do I need sleep? I'm not the one that goes multiple days without rest. That is simply unnatural. If you need someone to wear you out..."

"Y'shtola would hunt us both down. She's damned persistent when she sets her mind to something, you know."

The two women stared at each other for a few moments before they broke into light laughter. Sighing once more, Aran laid back on the bed and waved to the mute, careful to leave her some room on the bed.

"Turn the lights out, would you?"

---

Rain poured down on the group from Vale as they trudged out towards the wall leading south-east. Aran, for her part, had donned her robe and its blackened armor once more. Her swords remained where they have been since she recovered them, and her companions were rather envious to see Aran's robe stay dry despite the deluge. Unlike before, her ears were no longer hidden behind a glamour. Instead of bared ears though, those familiar with her were surprised by sleek black leather rimmed with the same darkened steel that comprised her armor that covered the back and sides of her ears, and creating a small hood over the front. Her hearing remained as excellent as always, while her ears were relatively untouched by the rain.

She was glad she had previously waterproofed her sabatons as well. The mud through which they were trudging was trying to suck them in it seemed, and the complaints of her companions served to make her shake her head in displeasure. Paved roads were limited to the residential and governmental districts of Hinderstap; out here near the wall, mud prevailed.

Mat had stayed behind to catch up with his family, but everyone else now followed her with grumbles about the early hour and the fact that they hadn't chosen their wardrobe appropriately. Ryne was no different, though her grumbles were strictly about the rain, while Neo didn't say anything at all as she hid beneath Hush.

It wasn't too long before the group reached the wall and noticed several hooded figures pacing through the mud below it. One of them glanced at Aran's group and waved them over.

Upon approaching them, the figure who waved them over pulled their hood back enough to reveal her face in the dim light of dawn.

"Glad you made it. I'm Aurora, and I'm going to assume you're Aran?" The woman began, pointing to the Viera. "I was told the rabbit faunus was the Huntress, so that would mean you."

Aran nodded.

"Correct. What's the job, and what's the pay?"

Aurora nodded in approval of Aran's blunt approach.

"Bandit elimination. There's a group not too far from here that's been raiding other settlements close-by. They're not exactly the most intimidating bunch, but we can't have them turning their sights on us." Aurora paused as she glanced at Aran's companions, then frowned. "Are they going to be able to do the job? Killing is not something everyone can do."

A quick nod from Aran seemed to be all Aurora needed.

"Good. I'll be accompanying you, along with Lans, the scrawny fellow waiting over at the gate. Your employer wants to know what you can do, so we're more going to be sticking around as observers. Are you ready to head out? They're camped about forty miles away; we have a vehicle waiting for us."

The vehicle itself was a larger than average armored van. It didn't take long to get underway, though it had only been a couple of minutes into the drive when her linkpearl chimed. She answered it without speaking, noticing Neo do so likewise. Torchwick then, though it was possible he had connected everyone into the message.

"Hey, I have some important information being caught in my network. Atlas has begun operating openly against Vacuo."

Aran was ready to reply, but another voice chimed over the linkpearl. Y'shtola.

"To be expected. Vacuo isn't nearly as organized as Vale, and a few of its leaders are in Vale as well. Xanth is second only to Shade's Headmaster, after all. Do we have any further information?"

"We do. Atlas was steamrolling several of Vacuo's outer nomadic tribes and pushing for Shade from Port Dune, Atlas's main port into Vacuo. The tribes were overrun and killed, but they did manage to send a message to Shade and to slow Atlas long enough for Theodore to respond in kind. The tip of the Atlesian spear was broken by Theodore and the Huntsmen and Huntresses he gathered for his response. Casualties are numbering in the thousands, most of them being Atlesian or tribal. More importantly however, Atlas is gearing up for a larger push."

Before Y'shtola could say anything, Aran's own thoughts traveled through the linkpearl, so as to avoid attracting unwanted attention from the strangers in her midst.

"The first push in an invasion is always to test defenses. If Atlas was able to wipe out several tribes with an auxiliary force, then Vacuo's in trouble when they mobilize for a true assault. The tribes of Vacuo need an organized defense force, not tribes acting independently and hoping the strongest of them can save them all. Theodore is but one man, and one individual, no matter how powerful, cannot be everywhere at once. Speaking from experience."

Aran couple practically hear Y'shtola humming in agreement. Even as Aran was preparing to form a plan, Alphinaud spoke.

"Aran is right. Full true is the weakness of a powerful individual. I may be able to seek out an audience with this Voldo Xanth from Vacuo. If I can, then perhaps he will be agreeable to someone helping Vacuo organize its military hosts. I would volunteer myself, as Aran is otherwise unavailable."

Mentally nodding in agreement, a thought occurred to Aran.

"Qrow, are you listening?"

"Closely."

"What's the likelihood of Raven being willing to relocate the Branwen tribe from Anima to Vacuo?"

There was an audible grunt, followed by a moment of silence before he finally answered.

"If there's something to be gained from it, I imagine she would be willing to take them there. I imagine you're wanting them to help Vacuo?"

"In a way. If aid is to be given to the tribes, then they will need time for it to arrive and for them to learn. From my understanding, the Branwen tribe is already a ruthless tribe of raiders and killers, yes?"

"Yes." Qrow responded sourly. "I see where you're going with this. But what can you offer the tribe?"

"It's not what I can offer, but what they can steal. Atlesian armies use over twice the amount of Dust as the other Kingdoms for a reason. Their advanced technology requires an increased power source. Like the Garlean Empire, Atlas can be crippled if they don't have the Dust they need for their automated systems and automata. And the fact that the other kingdoms are in desperate need of more Dust…"

"Means that the Branwen tribe can sell their plunder for an increased profit and undercut the SDC. Smart. I'll run it by Raven when I see her next. But that does leave the means of transportation. How do you plan on moving the tribe? They can't exactly take the usual means, due to their bounties."

At that, Aran couldn't help her lip twitch slightly in satisfaction.

"Who all do you believe is linked to her Semblance?"

"Yang. Myself. Maybe Tai, and Summer too I think, though she's somehow cut off Raven's ability to target her with her Semblance. And she has to have somebody in the tribe that she's close to as well, since she's able to get there and back so quickly."

"And how quickly can you make it to Vacuo?"

"By flying? Maybe a bit under a month if it's not by bullhead. That desert is vast, Aran. I can't fly the entire time, especially not with all that heat."

"Then we send Yang and Tai along with Alphinaud."

Aran was about to say more, when another voice, one she hadn't heard in over a year, sounded over the linkpearl. It caused a smile as she heard its familiar awkwardness.

"Forgive my intrusion in your planning, but I would put myself to use as well," Urianger stated. "Unknowing of these lands and their rulers, I am of no use in these political circles. My talents would be better placed establishing new friendships with those you do not already know. Vacuo seems to be a good place to start, with Alphinaud's prior knowledge of the people."

The happiness Aran felt at hearing her friend once more was difficult to control, but she managed it. If only just.

"Urianger, you've awoken! Are you sure that's a good idea? You must be weak from your downtime."

"Nothing that a little physical conditioning cannot mend, my friend. My mind is still just as sharp, even so."

"I would prefer if you had someone with you more capable of handling physical matters. Thancred?"

"Say no more; I'll start preparing for the heat. How goes your business, Aran?"

The remainder of the trip didn't take long, though it was just long enough for Aran to fill in the Scions and their allies on what her group was currently up to. By the time Aurora pulled up next to several trees, she had finished and they had said their parting words. As they all disembarked, she got a feel for their surroundings.

Trees. Mud. Plenty of foliage. Rain, coming down even harder than before. A distinct bird call that she couldn't place, though was positive she could replicate. A river, maybe a mile or so away and running rapidly.

But more importantly, she could taste the cooking meat in the air.

Unconsciously, her stance shifted enough to alert her companions, as well as her facial expressions. None save Ryne had seen this side of her, and it had terrified the girl the first time she had seen the bloodthirsty predator in Aran make itself known outside of battle.

The Oracle knew from previous questioning that this side of the Warrior was not an aspect of the Ancient, but of the Viera herself. Animalistic, and decidedly much more predatorial than most other Viera she had asked about from Thancred and Urianger, she had come to the conclusion that Aran's tribe was much more aggressive than others, and her temperament otherwise was an effort made through much self-reflection.

She had inquired on her hypothesis to Y'shtola only a few short weeks before the Vytal Festival, surprised to find her nodding sagely at her deduction.

"Her tribe was, for it is long gone now by Aran's own hand, a tribe of predators. The most well-known Vieran tribes of the jungles are reclusive and unsociable at best, but none give thought to those tribes which are the true protectors of the Wood. The male Viera, the Wardens of the Woods, are well known for their savagery, but that insane bloodlust has to come from somewhere. Though they may be plentiful, they are not numerous enough nor organized to defend against entire armies. It is the warrior tribes of the Viera that perform this role, and their bloodlust is largely undocumented. None dared to tread the depths of the Golmore Jungle for fear of rabid beasts which only the Viera can tame, unknowing that it is the Viera themselves who are in fact these bloodthirsty creatures. Make no mistake Ryne, Aran is a true predator, of a bloodline well-known in their circles for their bloodthirsty rampages. It is only testament to her own mental fortitude that she is able to keep it reigned in instead of losing herself. Maybe it's the effect of the Ancient that she is so strong-willed, but I doubt it from the stories I've heard from the villages that I've visited around her former home."

Ryne frowned and cocked her head in curiosity inside their dorm. The room itself was unoccupied aside from them in a rare moment when Roman was able to roam for an hour without fear of being caught by Atlas.

"Why do you say that?" She asked.

Y'shtola smiled as she kept transcribing the book in her mind to the physical pages in front of her for Ryne's use.

"To use magic, one need not be in a feral state of mind. The tribe Aran was part of that took to raiding the nearby villages and defending the Range had a member in it that was feared for her control of fire. She never partook in the raiding from what I was able to glean, but on at least two occasions within fifty years, there were small incursions into the Vieran lands in an attempt to oust them. Both times, forces composed of at least several hundred were consumed by fires controlled by one Viera, such was her strength with magic and reserves of mana. Later, when I looked into Garlemald's conquering of Ilsabard, I came across similar reports of a Vieran commander of Garlemald - a nation that allowed very few non-Garleans into prestigious positions - who was capable of similar feats. It didn't take much to connect the trails to Aran, especially when I heard from Alisaie about Aran's destructive capabilities being on full display at the Ghimlyt Dark. Hundreds, Ryne, if not thousands, were naught but ash when Aran met Elidibus wearing Zenos' flesh on the field. She is a force of the likes of what has never been seen before."

Just thinking of the conversation made Ryne shiver as remembered Aran's assault on Eulmore, and her mood prior. While there was a definite effort on her end to spare as many Eulmorans as possible, she recalled several times when Aran had tore into an unfortunate guardsman here or there, and the intensity of her words. It seemed the work of an animal when she had finished, though from the expressions of the others she had deduced it wasn't exactly uncommon. She could definitely see how some would call Aran a monster. If she didn't know the woman, she would be just as tempted to say that what she did wasn't right.

She shook her thoughts aside as she watched Aran glance towards them.

"Get ready to move. We're going in fast and striking before they have a chance to organize."

---

Jaune huffed as he finished his last lap around Beacon, glancing at the rising sun with a grimace. He shouldn't have been as slow as he was this morning, but the ache in his legs, and indeed his whole body, was taking a toll on his performance. At least he could take some amount of satisfaction in knowing he wasn't the only one.

A few feet away, Cardin huffed and groaned about his own problems. Unlike Jaune, he quickly regained his breath and stood upright, though there was a noticeable wince and twitch in his left arm.

"You know what?" Cardin eventually stated as they walked back to the rest of their friends. "Thancred's fine. The guy knows his stuff, and is easier on us than Aran. But Summer…"

"She's an absolute terror." Jaune stated bluntly, drawing a nod out of Cardin. "Aran at least let us be after we did whatever we could. Ruby's mom wants even more out of us, and I don't know how to give it."

A light chuckle drew their attention to Alisaie, who apparently heard them from a good number of feet away.

"Try doing this with Aran for years. Alphinaud and I left our home in Sharlayan to follow our grandfather's path, thinking we were prepared for the world with our education and experiences. It was Aran who set us straight and showed us how little we truly knew. Being an academic prodigy means little when you're in the midst of wars and betrayals if you don't have the wisdom to apply your intelligence. Though I have no problems with admitting that Alphinaud has by far outstripped myself on select matters of intellect, I am no slouch myself."

Both Jaune and Cardin listened intently to the woman as she spoke, until Jaune raised something that had been on his mind.

"Speaking of, how do you know Aran? Or, well, how did you meet? Don't get me wrong, you're certainly intelligent, more so than myself. But you and Alphinaud seem a little… young, to be as experienced as you are."

The Elezen hummed to herself for a moment.

"Actually… Alphinaud and I have seen twenty-three summers. We Elezen have growth spurts, though he and I have yet to hit ours, much to Alphinaud's chagrin. The first time we met Aran, Alphinaud and I hadn't even gone away from our home in Sharlayan, yet. Grandfather needed something from home, and while he wasn't able to come home due to circumstances, he sent Aran as a member of the Circle of Knowing. While she is not Sharlayan, she still earned her place as an Archon of the Circle, though her tattoo to prove her membership is not in the usual location on the Archon's necks. Back then of course, we just assumed she was someone helping Grandfather, not one of the driving forces of Eorzea's defense from Garlemald. She knocked on our front door, where Father answered and nearly sent her away without even letting her explain why she was there. Mother, of course, was much more attentive and sympathetic to Grandfather's cause than Father, and it was she who bid Father to listen to Aran. I don't think I've ever seen Father verbally turned around and beaten until that day."

Both of the boys chuckled as they tried to imagine the situation, until Cardin spoke.

"She certainly has that effect. I've never seen her lose a verbal exchange here, either. She can be downright brutal when she's pushed, but it's generally good-natured if perhaps a bit… adult themed?"

Alisaie let loose a laugh that surprised both of the men with its volume.

"That sounds like her, all right. Anyhow, Alphinaud and I weren't supposed to have eavesdropped on their conversation. Mother noticed us, but she didn't send us away. Father would have been displeased if he knew, though. I think that's the first time I ever heard true vulgarity outside of some reading materials that were probably not meant for my age-group. She came in, nodded to us, and promptly left when she had what she came for. Of course, I never knew who she was until just a couple weeks ago due to learning that she's an Archon, but I'll get to that soon. The next time we met was five years later, and indeed five years after the Seventh Umbral Calamity. We were actually aboard the same carriage to Gridania, though my brother and I at the time didn't recognize her. Grandfather's doing, through his magic, had all but erased Aran and her companions from the annals of history until this point. Neither of us thought much of her at the time, and it was certainly not I who noticed her. No, my brother took to her first, and I'm not ashamed to say so. It was for the better for him, as his naiveté at the time was… quite something. She became like a second mother to him, and eventually to myself as well."

Alisaie paused and crossed her arms, her eyes turning downwards.

"When the Calamity happened… it was presumed that Grandfather perished, along with the Warriors of Light who stood by his side. And to an extent, this presumption was the truth. Grandfather's body died, while his consciousness became the guiding figure for Phoenix, a primal. The Warriors of Light… Most did die. They were a Free Company - a band of adventures working together, and this one led by Aran - Aran herself was flung into… I'm not sure what to call it, but a time rift would seem appropriate. She physically disappeared until the very day Alphinaud and I saw her on that carriage, five years after the Calamity. And, nobody knew who she was. I've since learned that those of her blood retained their memories of her for some reason or another, but nobody else. Even now, it's not known outside of a select few Scions of the Seventh Dawn that she is the same Warrior of Light who fought at Rivenroad and put down the White Raven of Garlemald. The knowledge is there to figure out who she is, but nobody felt it to be important enough to disturb the legend of the Warrior of Light."

Cardin and Jaune glanced at each other, apparently sharing the same question, until Jaune asked.

"That's… something. How long have you known her then, like really known her?"

"Oh, that's a great question. Let me think… Alphinaud's known her for at least a few months longer than I have, maybe closing in on a year. From there until Gaius van Baelsar's defeat along with that of Lahabraea and Ultima was perhaps another few months… the whole Crystal Braves ordeal and the apparent assassination of the Sultana, Nanamo Ul Namo, was nearly a year as well. Of course, Aran and Alphinaud were also handling the Dragonsong War as well, where Aran earned her title, Dragonsong, through killing one of the First Brood."

"What's that?" Cardin asked.

"The First Brood are the direct spawn of the elder dragon, Midgardsormr. They are extremely powerful, unbelievably so. Aran earned her title by slaying Nidhogg in the defense of Ishgard, thereby bringing the Dragonsong War to a close. But the question you asked about how long I've known her? Nearing six years. For Y'shtola, a bit over nine?" The white-haired woman paused and brought her hand up to her chin in thought. "That would mean Thancred's known her for eleven years. The whole time dilation with the First certainly messed with things…"

That last comment confused both Jaune and Cardin, though neither questioned it. Instead, Cardin was about to ask her another question when Jaune cleared his throat and pointed upwards in their path.

"Uh… isn't that the Kingsguard that keeps finding Aran?" Jaune asked. "And why is Maven with her still?"

Cardin grew more alert, though Jaune noticed that Alisaie hardly reacted.

"Yes. They've been watching us for a short while, actually." Alisae answered. "Let's see what they want."

Approaching the headache-inducing form of Reisa and the noticeable figure of Maven, they didn't need to wait long before the androgynous voice of Reisa was heard.

"Good morning. King Braylor requests the presence of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, as well as those that Aran Vinland has taken to training personally. Urianger Augerelt is asked to attend this gathering as well. Your attendance is expected in three hours. Good day."

The headache from Reisa's presence seemed to grow worse, causing them all to wince in pain. When they opened their eyes again, they caught sight of Reisa twisting unnaturally, before simply disappearing, along with the headaches. Maven was likewise nowhere to be seen.

The two men heard Alisae hum to herself in thought as she tried to piece together what exactly had just happened.

---

Not too far away from the students and Scion, Amber found herself sighing as she sat in a tree with a hand idly tracing the scars on her face. One of the few trees that hadn't been rendered ashes or otherwise toppled during the invasion. An apple was tossed her way by her companion, prompting the Fall Maiden to snatch it with little thought and take a bite.

"Cheer up, Princess. There's plenty of good things happening in this world too."

Peter Port's voice, usually loud and boisterous, was startlingly quiet. The rotund man leaned against the base of the tree below her, his uniform for teaching replaced with normal street clothes. If one ignored the singular overly large pauldron on his right shoulder which was bigger than his head, he looked rather normal. Blue pants, a white shirt and a red hunting vest.

"It isn't that, Peter. I've… What good am I to anyone right now? Sure, I'm getting back into shape, but I'm still here, feeling like I'm in a prison. It's not the fact of being here that is the safest place for me, but my life going forward as a whole. No matter how I see it, there's always going to be someone that's gunning after me. I don't know if I can handle that. I thought I knew what it would entail when Ozpin came after me initially to be Fall, but I think it's starting to break me."

The large man hummed in thought as the figures of Cardin, Jaune, and the white haired girl disappeared in the distance.

"Perhaps… you just need a break. A vacation, so to speak. Or maybe just an ear that understands your situation better than I do. In either case, Miss Rainart would likely be the one for you to talk to. From my recollection, she was always the person able to set others at ease, in whatever way was needed. Indeed, I remember rumors about her being found in a closet with-"

"Okay, that's more than I need to know, Peter!" Amber sputtered out quickly, stopping the man from continuing. He chuckled lightly before taking a deep breath.

"Give it some thought. I'm only available to be an open ear until Beacon returns to a semi-functioning status, after all."

"You do know all the students think your lessons are like… the most boring, right? Of all time?"

"Oh, quite so. Boring lessons must mean a boring teacher, after all. I don't need them looking into the past I've left behind; that would be no good for anybody. But, I do believe Glynda's scheduled a meeting for Beacon staff soon, and so I must be off. I hope you find a solution to your problem, Princess."

"And stop calling me Princess!"

---

Blood arced through air behind Aran's blade as she disposed of an oddly twisted man that could have been just past his prime. Hunched over and hobbling, the man wouldn't have stood a chance against even a novice swordsman, even if his rusted swordbreaker didn't have most of its teeth either missing or bent in angles that rendered the purpose of the weapon obsolete.

No scream came from the now-headless corpse as it fell with a wet thud into the mud. Aran glanced around, knowing that her opponent was the last, but still checking the surroundings for any other unwelcome surprises until her eyes fell on Ren. The young man stared at a faunus boy that couldn't have seen more than perhaps sixteen summers; only a faint patch of facial hair looked to be growing on his lifeless face. Despite his youth, the boy held both a perfectly functional Dust revolver, and a short-hafted partizan. Both had left their mark on Ren's Aura, forcing him to retaliate physically when his words failed to make any impact on the boy.

The reality of these people not having Aura, and the consequences of such, seemed to be sinking in for both of the Beacon students, not just Ren. Despite her past, Blake had never outright killed directly, especially not someone that wasn't in a uniform. She accepted the consequences of her actions before, knowing that people had likely died, but never had she dealt the final blow, her granting of the gift of Final Peace notwithstanding. Aran recalled hearing about all of her students granting the Final Peace to those that had no hope of survival during the invasion, as well as Ruby's first time doing so.

The cat faunus woman stood with her teeth clenched as she looked about the village, intentionally avoiding where several other deformed shapes laid in pools of blood.

All in all, it was clear that these people were no bandits. But it was also clear that there was something horribly wrong with them. Limbs bent in angles that shouldn't have been possible, grotesque pustules grew on their skin, and their very stench was… wrong. When blood had finally been spilled, the familiar crimson was nowhere to be found. Instead, sickly dark red and too-bright pink was found, indicating something that may have been a form of blood disease.

That, and any form of succor that had been attempted had been met with insane howling, coughing, and screaming, as well as swung and fired weapons. Aran was not going to risk her people once the insanity became apparent; in short order, Neo, Emerald, and Ryne had helped her remove the bulk of the infested, leaving only the few that had openly engaged Blake and Ren.

"What just happened? What was wrong with them?" Ren finally asked, hastily removing the blood from his weapons.

As Aran thought about how to respond, Emerald beat her to it.

"There were rumors going around about some of Hinderstap's people going crazy, attacking others. Cinder was curious about what happened, but we only looked into it for a week before it was dropped. Apparently, the crazies would attack other people that weren't crazy, though nobody could figure out what happened. That was from nearly a year ago though."

"And you're only now bringing this up? Ryne asked, causing Emerald to raise her hands defensively.

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger! I thought the whole thing would have been figured out by now, these kinds of things never last longer than a few weeks before some virus is found to be at fault and expunged!"

Aran cleared her throat, silencing them immediately.

"This has something to do with their blood, but it is obviously not natural. Blood does not reach those hues naturally and remain fluid."

Her ears twitched as a branch broke near the edge of the encampment. Upon turning, she noticed Aurora snapping another branch as she approached, the wood in her hands beginning to smolder despite the downpouring rain.

"That would be correct, though it only starts in the blood. It takes around a month before it begins to affect someone's thoughts, then begins to change their body as their innards begin to rot in a most peculiar, and infectious, fashion. I apologize for the deception, but we weren't sure how you would react to 'hey, we're hiring you to kill sick people!'. Doesn't make a great first impression, no?" The smoldering wood quickly caught fire before she began throwing the burning splinters at the bodies laying around, causing them to erupt into flames. "What's worse, they even begin to infect their surroundings if not eliminated before the rot has taken them. The rot isn't restricted to humans and faunus; it can be taken up by the wildlife and flora as well."

Aran cocked her head.

"Then you know where all of the infected are, segregating them away from Hinderstap and the main roads, then eliminate them before the rot can begin to spread in earnest." Not even waiting for Aurora's nod, flames coated her blades as she began to head towards other bodies. "How are tabs kept on them? How do you know someone hasn't encountered them? What stops them from fleeing in search of a cure?"

A sigh came from Aurora's direction.

"There is constant surveillance on them, and any that attempt to flee are killed. They're kept on surveillance while we're trying to find a cure, or a vaccine at least, but the biggest problem is the original source. Any further questions will have to be directed to my boss, let's finish burning these bodies and get going. To properly introduce myself, Aurora Redbrooke, licensed Huntress of Mistral, though currently devoting my attention to the plight I've found here in Hinderstap at my good friend's behest."

---

A man wearing a white suit, bowler hat, and makeup sighed as he watched the people in front of him cheer at the speech that was just delivered by a woman he knew only by reputation: Moira Sol. Somehow, the words she spoke made sense, but his knowledge of the truth made him shake his head in disappointment.

"You seem to not be taken by her words," came a feminine voice next to him.

Roman Torchwick glanced to the side, hiding his surprise with a smile and small flourish of his suit. Standing less than a foot away from him was a woman that could have passed for Moira's twin, except for her blue hair. And, of course, the fact that he held prior knowledge of her existence courtesy of Aran. And the fact that he had caught her following him the past day, though he had been careful to not let her know he caught on.

"Ah, you must be the esteemed Moira Luna. I'm sure you know who I am already?"

The woman raised an eyebrow.

"Your face was plastered across Vale for years, Roman. I'm quite surprised that you were given a pardon for everything you've done, and have so far not incurred another warrant for your arrest. The Dragonsong has been a good influence on you."

"Well, I'm flattered you think so. But, I'm afraid I don't know why I've attracted your attention. I'm but a humble man, listening to a rousing speech that is raising my dearest idol to the realm of godhood."

When the woman glanced beside him into empty space and seemed to be watching or listening to something, Torchwick felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. After a few moments, her eyes rolled as if from some sarcastic comment.

"Yes, I'm sure that's all you're doing, Mr. Torchwick. Just as I've merely been following around a charming man who has certainly done no wrong."

Roman scowled. As appealing as the woman's appearance was, he was finding himself to be tiring of their exchange. Quite unlike him, he knew.

"What is it you want, Luna?"

The woman glanced at her twin, a look of disgust touching her features before she collected herself.

"I understand that there's a reason for The Dragonsong not wishing to be worshipped, one that is potentially volatile. She may be a demigod, but I do not understand why my sister believes she must be revered as one. Aran's own wishes should come first, and this is something I wish to aid you in. Preferably without her knowledge of my involvement. If Aran were to find out, I imagine her reaction would lead to my sister figuring it out as well."

Torchwick gave Moira Sol one last look before jerking his head towards the exit, his bowler hat enhancing the motion. They began to move quietly, ignoring the crowd as best they could.

"Well then, let's figure something out. Mother dearest doesn't want to be worshipped, and your sister thinks she should do so regardless. How do we go about slowing her down?"

The exit led out into the streets of an industrial district, morning sun shining on the two conspirators. Part of Roman missed Neo's presence, being the safety net for his mistakes. He would just need to make sure that he didn't this time. Aran deserved his best, and he would give it. His attention returned to the blue-haired woman next to him as she finally spoke.

"I'm not entirely sure, not without alienating The Dragonsong to some of these people."

Humming to himself as they rounded a corner, Roman perked up as he caught sight of someone that may be the answer they needed.

"What if they were given something to focus on, something other than Aran? Perhaps something like… a war."

And indeed, this was his chance. Standing no more than a few meters away was Voldo Xanth.

Tall, nearly as tall as Aran herself, and with dark skin made darker by the unrelenting sun of the deserts of Vacuo, the man shuffled gracefully as he heard them. His tan shirt, purple vest, and baggy trousers were partially covered by a long yellow scarf that wrapped around his head and neck, creating a turban, veil, and almost a cloak as it billowed out behind him. At his waist rested a scimitar with an extended hilt. Most striking however were the man's eyes, glowing behind the goggles he wore with a thick headband that held part of the scarf open for his long red hair to be free.

"You speak too loudly. Quiet yourself, before the wrong ears are alerted to your plans." His voice, deep and accented, was surprisingly sharp as he looked around. "You plan to send them to Vacuo to fight Atlas. Your plan is flawed; most of them don't even know how to fight, much less have the will to do what they must to survive."

Torchwick shrugged uncaringly, though Luna's face hardened. Sensing the tension in her, the criminal mastermind stayed quiet when she spoke.

"That is the basis of most armies. A trained core, with conscripts to fill ranks that learn from the core. Such is how it always stands, no matter the kingdom. Even Vacuo operates under a similar scheme with its nomadic warriors and thieves. And how is that working for you? Entire tribes are being erased by the Atlesian war machine as they pierce into your lands. Where is Vacuo's desire to survive?"

The Vacuoan snarled.

"Atlas folds beneath Theodore's strength, just as the Grimm fall to The Dragonsong's. They will not take anything important so long as he stands."

A cold chuckle escaped Moira.

"Then why are you here? You seek Vale's aid, and have set your sights on its champion. But I have to wonder… why? What about her intrigues you so? I have a theory."

The woman rolled her shoulders and reached up to the cat-eared headphones she wore, sliding them down to her neck. "You see that Braylor is bending over backwards to accommodate her requests. More than is proper. You see that he is desperate for a solution to a problem long plaguing Remnant, though you know no more than vague whispers of what that problem actually is. And by his actions and presumed obedience to Aran, you believe that you've found the answer. But you also need a solution to Atlas, because you know that Vacuo cannot hold against Atlas alone. Not like it could against Mantle during the Great War, because Atlas is the most militaristic kingdom to exist, as well as being the most technologically advanced. Am I hitting the nail on the head?"

The man's eyes narrowed, but he didn't speak.

"I would assume so. Well, she is otherwise unavailable right now, so you'll have to make due with the resources she has to offer you right now. Which would be the Dragonsworn."

When Xanth's mouth opened, someone else's voice sounded from down the street. A young voice.

"Erm… Excuse me? I was told to come talk to the man in the makeup and bowler hat?"

All eyes shot to the speaker, revealing a older boy, potentially approaching manhood, wearing clothes befitting a farmer. His nervousness was worn plainly on his features as rubbed the back of his his, ruffling his black hair.

"There's uh… Someone saying that they would like their cane back? Who potentially lost it… down below?"

Torchwick frowned as his fellow conspirators looked to him in confusion. He slowly nodded as he stepped forward, on guard for any tricks.

"I can't say I have it uh… Whoever you are-"

"Oh! I'm Oscar Pine! I'm sorry sir, I should have introduced myself first…"

Roman raised a finger, making the boy flinch.

"First off, I'm no sir. Leave that for -"

"Technically speaking," Luna interrupted the man once again, "you are. Kingsguard Torchwick, and all that. That automatically raises you above most in regard to-"

"Nope. Not a thing. Not me, no sir. As I said, I am not a sir. But I could potentially pass on a message to someone who may be able to uh… Give you back your cane?"

The boy glanced at Xanth, then to Luna with a strange look before seeming to decide on something.

"No sense keeping it hidden now, I suppose. She already knows I'd be back one day or another. Good day, Roman. It's been some time since I last spoke to you in Beacon; you know me as Ozpin, but allow me to formally introduce my real name. I am Ozma, a soul chosen to combat our primary threat for as long as she remains a threat. Might we find a place to talk privately?"