Took a little bit longer than I'd have hoped but here it is. Shorter chapter this time too, essentially just putting everyone in position for the fun to begin.

Got another hectic weekend and then some coming up so I will try my darnedest to get the next chapter (Weiss') up and running.

As an important side note: don't expect these parallel, 3 character (4 if you count Ruby) story lines to continue forever. It'll all converge eventually on Weiss' PoV and we're quickly reaching that point.

"Keep moving! If you stop, you'll be left behind!"

The order was as callous as Adam's voice, ringing out over the solitary stomp of dozens of feet. The earth became packed under their number as they went, three dozen White Fang troops strong, each armed to the teeth. Among them were a handful of Magi - few, but powerful. Any town with Magi would struggle against them. Those without would be cut down like wheat to a farmer's sickle.

Blake's stomach churned with that unsettling realization. The White Fang was accustomed to raids but raids rarely meant much violence. They would kill those who stood against them, typically guards and foolhardy villagers, but no others. Supplies were taken, perhaps a few non-Murans were brought into their fold, but most settlements were left standing.

Blades caught the moon's pale light and reflected it back. Bags clattered noisily, carrying supplies, weapons, and notably, Dust. Such an unruly item wasn't meant for simple robbery, that much was obvious. Dust was volatile on its best days and completely unwieldy others. Using it on a village would destroy everything within its perimeter, rendering pillaging a moot effort.

They didn't intend to pillage, they didn't plan to gather supplies from the villages. We'll paint the land red with their blood. Blake's veins ran cold recalling Adam's closing words. So many of those around her, an unsettling majority, had cheered and called for heads hearing that.

"Blake…?" Ilia's voice was strained. Her eyes were concealed behind her mask, but Blake could feel their worried gaze on her. "We're going through with this, aren't we…?"

Nearby Brinne gave her a solemn look of resignation, canine ears flat against her scalp. Liam and Dunst trailed behind her, both tasked to carry large sacks, sporting only small knives to defend themselves. As many people as there were Blake could look any direction and meet eyes staring back at her, silently asking what their next move was supposed to be.

The White Fang wanted equality. They raided out of necessity, killed only the most irredeemable, most deplorable figures. Blake had bloodied her hands on a few occasions and after the first had quickly gotten over her guilt of taking a life and the nausea that the sight of blood had brought on.

There was no willing away the unease that she felt now.

Slaughter was for bandits, for armies looking to score a decisive victory or quell a rebellion.

There was no freedom in slaughter. No equality. Nothing they were doing would lead the Faunus movement closer towards their goals. If anything, it would set them back. Despite that knowledge Adam seemed determined to move forward. With the blessing of Sienna Khan and her own dagger, Yuma, acting as Adam's new right hand, there was little Blake could do to dissuade her commander.

Blake felt guilt every time someone looked to her for guidance. She didn't have an answer besides 'wait and see'. The attack would happen, that much was clear. Her plan was to flee once it started, take advantage of the ensuing battle, however one-sided it might be, and escape with those closest to her.

Attacking in the evening would be ideal. Nearly every race that made up the Faunus conglomerate had substantial vision in the dark - certainly better than Muran and Ydrans, anyways. Without sight they could march their forces up to the town unseen and lay waste to everyone inside within moments.

Underhanded, yet brilliant.

With Mount Glenn another day's march away and the towns scattered around its perimeter they would need to divide their already small force into even smaller squads. Against a fortified city a group of five or six would be completely useless. Against outlier settlements that likely had no Magi, or even guards? Half that would suffice.

And so they marched. Whether due to foolhardiness or sheer confidence Adam had refused to call in any more reinforcements from surrounding sects. Thousands in number yet spread throughout Vale, the White Fang could easily gather a small army if they chose to. It wouldn't be needed. Adam knew that. Blake knew that.

The only ones who didn't were the towns whose lives were about to be taken from them.

Vale's countrysides were vast and empty. With settlements rising and falling like the tides it wasn't uncommon to travel for days without seeing another village for some time. Their only company in their trek thus far had been wildlife and the few suicidal Grimm daft enough to try and fight their sizable force. The shadowy beasts were but a prelude to the slaughter.

The villagers will wish for Grimm when we're done. Adam's cruel smile still held in Blake's thoughts, his cold, uncaring voice ringing in her ears.

As fervent as their march was the group did eventually stop for the night. Bold as they were no one dared to try and travel in such bulk during the day. Even Adam for all his zealousness understood what moving a force so blatantly would cause. A Hunter or two they could handle. Half a dozen? A full dozen? More? Their small force would be lambs to the slaughter.

Through patches of forest and across roving hills they walked, moving until the moon had begun to disappear over the horizon. Silver wisps trailed across the sky and pale light gave way to splashes of orange and red. In the middle of a field they were made to camp, flattening tall grass to create a decent staging area for themselves. Tents were erected as swiftly as possible, forming a circle, with Adam's as the center point.

To a random traveler it might appear like a group of nomads had settled down for rest. Until they noticed the plethora of weapons, and the lack of a single Muran among their number.

With little cause to be silent in the middle of a wide-open field their group soon grew boisterous. Food and drink were produced, and the White Fang began to celebrate. What they were celebrating Blake wasn't sure for they hadn't accomplished anything yet. Her peers must be that confident their attacks would succeed.

The only thing Blake was confident of was that she was feeling sick to her stomach.

People she'd called friends and family were screaming for blood. Innocent blood. Sitting down on her pack she rubbed her face in her hands, folding her ears in a futile attempt to cut out the joviality around her. Happiness brought on by a bloodlust.

This was the White Fang now, wasn't it? They killed before yet never to this scale. Never innocents. What changed? Why was Sienna suddenly allowing such a brutal attack against Murans? Much like the expression on her friend's faces the answer was lost. She might have been Adam's right hand at one point but that was as far up the hierarchy as she'd ever go. Such matters weren't for her to know.

An alien weight hung on her hip and she lifted herself to pull her weapon free. Steel already cold in any other situation bit her skin, prickling it as though she clutched a handful of snow. Casting her weapon aside Blake wiped her hand on her trousers, caring little for where her weapon landed. It was cold now, cleaned and polished to the point of beautification. Come tomorrow, however, it would be warm and soiled with blood, should Adam have his way.

Hunger had gnawed at her stomach as they'd marched yet now she found that it eluded her. Blake stared at her rations, a mixture of vegetables and venison, before wrapping it back up and stowing it in her bag once more. Ilia fared little better, enjoying a single bite before growing squeamish. Liam and Dunst finally joined them and ate, their faces sheen with sweat and clothes sticking. With all the manual labor bestowed upon them they ate out of necessity and to stave off fatigue, though Blake could see even they had to force the meal down.

"Blake… What are we going to do?"

Regarding Ilia with a half-focused stare the Meera blinked once before shaking her head. "I don't know," she answered honestly.

Brinne whined and ran her hands through her short cream hair. "We can't do this. What good is this going to do us?"

"I don't know."

"The Church is going to hunt us down for this," Liam said, scowling as he tore through a tough piece of meat. "And for once I don't blame them for it."

Neither did Blake, and that was the problem. When the enemy suddenly seemed justified and your own actions were worthy of scorn there was a serious issue. How did those in charge not see it? Why did they not care?

"Blake…" Ilia grabbed the ravenette's arms, eyes wide and pleading. "We have to do something. If we stay, if we kill all those people..."

"Is it any different than what we've always done?" Blake was surprised to hear herself utter the words. She'd meant them though and that only unnerved her companions even more.

"Of course it is! We've never wiped out an entire village!" Dunst balked.

"I've killed plenty of people in power," Blake answered with a shrug.

"Those people deserved it! They were rapists, killers, they abused their workers and took advantage of other races." Brinne stood from her seat, tiny frame trembling, eyes on the verge of spilling tears. "They want us to kill everyone in those villages. Including children."

Blake didn't answer because there was no response. Regardless she found herself attempting to justify what they were setting out to do. Why? She had no idea. Even war had unspoken rules in most cases. Soldiers were fair game; only barbarians, bandits, and monsters took to slaughtering women and children. In that regard the White Fang were in terrible company.

So why then did she try to rationalize it? Adam had to have a reason. Ignoring the whirlpool stewing in her gut Blake ran a hand along her scarf absently. "Maybe… The villages are responsible for some horrendous crimes. Maybe they've been selling out our brothers and sisters to the Church. Perhaps…" She paused, licking her dry lips. "Perhaps they intend to attack us, and this is a preemptive strike."

None of her excuses made sense, particularly the last. How would anyone know where their camps were? Even if a force did gather to do just that, attack them at their own homes, their organization was built to be mobile. They would scatter and gather at another location, regroup and continue as if nothing had happened. It wasn't a preemptive attack, it wasn't retribution. It was pure, bloodthirsty slaughter.

The cyclical line of thought continued as her friends continued to chat amongst themselves. They were all worried and none had a clue what to do about their situation. Neither did Blake, and yet they looked to her continually for guidance.

Their only option was fleeing. Blake's ears lifted and twisted as she heard footsteps approaching, seeing a familiar pair of black trousers, mud encrusted boots and a long, slender sheath hanging from the figure's hip. Adam smiled down at her, ignoring the others in her presence as he extended a hand.

"Blake…" The gentle tone made her skin crawl, but she gave her hand anyways. Rising to her feet she managed a smile, however weak it was, and allowed herself to be pulled along. Ilia and the rest watched after her, their faces a mixture of horror and concern. Blake could only smile reassuringly as she was dragged into the thick of their impromptu camp.

/+/+/+/+/

Once, Blake might have considered herself fortunate to sit among the upper echelons of the White Fang. She'd believed in their cause, their fight for equality, and had strove to uphold them. Even while working with Adam and his more… Fanciful whims she had believed, yearned to earn a place among those leading.

Now she wanted nothing but to be far, far away from them.

A desire born of pure selfishness she realized now just how dreary leading could be. Not that she'd ever wanted to be the face of the organization either - gods no, she'd sooner have returned to her duties hauling supplies than do that.

"About how many people live in each village?" Adam asked. He was leaned over a crude map of Mount Glenn. Several wooden markers were placed across it signifying the locations of the villages, or so Blake assumed.

"Our scouts estimate between eighty to one-hundred and twenty, my lord."

Blake cringed inwardly at Yuma's words. My Lord? Since when do we address our commanders by titles used by nobility? Neither Yuma nor Adam noticed her look of discontent, much too focused on the map laid out between them.

Adam smiled and nodded. "And no Magi among them?"

"Well… That is another matter I wanted to discuss with you." Blake perked up and watched Yuma carefully. He seemed… Nervous? No, he was smiling and there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. His stubbled features spread, and he stood taller, clasping his hands together in excitement. "It appears the Church has sent Hunters to the villages."

"You don't say… How many?"

"No more than eight," replied Yuma. "Young too, either freshly initiated or recently promoted. It appears they've been sent out on their first missions. No veterans among them that my scouts have seen, and certainly no Numen."

Adam smiled and stood straighter. Then he laughed. The cold, cruel sound made Blake draw into herself and avert her eyes. Where had the warmth gone?

"They've sent children then. That changes nothing. If anything…" Adam brushed a hand over the map before plucking up one of his markers, snapping it between his fingertips. "It gives some of our men a good chance to practice against Hunters."

"Do you imagine the Church knows…?" Yuma's smiled waned just a touch and his brow furrowed.

"Impossible. We've not sent letters and communicated only through trusted runners, none of who were caught. It's a coincidence." One that Adam appeared to welcome readily. He stepped away from the low table and clasped another man's shoulder. "Kael go order the troops to begin gathering into their teams. Let them know to expect slight resistance."

Kael accepted his orders and a parchment with an eager grin. A full head shorter yet twice as wide, the stocky Toro nodded, his bright green ponytail bobbing. "As your command, my lord."

Blake watched Kael go with a growing sense of trepidation. "Yuma, I need you to go and check the villages. Watch these children, try and learn their magic if you can. Maybe… Provide some incentive for them to use it."

"Ah, and now things will start getting fun!" Yuma placed a hand on his chest and bowed, stepping back from the table. "I'll have a report for you before sundown."

There was a giddy air and excited energy about Yuma as his eyes met Blake's, lips curled into a cruel smile. He was enjoying himself and the battles had yet to even begin. Winking as tendrils of shadow wrapped around his legs, then his chest, he waved before vanishing into thin air, whisked away by a shadow-walk spell.

And then they were alone. Where the air had been filled with Adam and Yuma's chatter there was now silence. Kael hadn't said much, and she cared little more for his company yet his presence had been a buffer. A buffer Blake now sorely wished she had.

"Blake…" Adam almost cooed when he spoke her name, as if addressing a pet, or a child. She stood, rigid at attention and hands behind her back. "Relax, I'm not giving you any orders. I've had enough of your failures for one week."

Despite herself she cringed, expression turning from indifference to guilt. Adam smiled, satisfied his barb had an effect. Blake wanted to step away when he drew knew yet held her ground. She knew better. Her eyes squeezed closed as a hand reached for her cheek, then frowned when she felt his sleeve brush past her face. Adam took a vial from the crate behind her and held it before her eyes. Dark green liquid swirled inside the glass with specks of brown and yellow mixed in.

"Poison…?" she questioned.

"Nightshade based, according to Opal. Seems she's quite familiar with how it works, too. Though…" Adam inspected the vial, taking off the cork and smiling as he poured it out on the ground. "I suppose that's only natural with how long she's been around."

"Do you know where I got this, Blake?" he continued, holding out the now depleted container. Taking it from him she inspected it for any markings, any symbols that might identify it. As if a would-be assassin would be so brazen. She shook her head, stupefied that poison had somehow ended up among their ranks. "It was inside Ilia's tent. Yuma brought it to me this morning."

Dropping the vial as though set alight Blake stared at the shattered glass. She could feel Adam's eyes studying her beneath his mask, trying to suss out anything besides the panic that was plain on her face. Ilia had a vial of poison? Why? What was she intending to do with it? How had she even gotten any?

"Blake…?"

It didn't make any sense. Had Ilia had it mixed in preparation for the battle? That seemed unlikely. Neither herself nor her friend were practiced with its application and certainly not its creation. Adam had mentioned Opal and, of all the members currently with them, the elderly Kanin would be the only person she could expect to create it.

"Blake." If Adam's voice wasn't demanding enough then the hand seizing her jaw certainly was. Wincing as her neck was torqued painfully she was forced to stare into Adam's mask. His smile was gone, replaced by a strained, harsh scowl. "What was Ilia doing with poison, Blake…?"

"I… I don't know…"

"Liar."

Her head swung to the side and she teetered as a hand cracked against her cheek. Covering the right side of her face with trembling fingers she forced herself to look back up at Adam, eyes stinging. "I don't know," she repeated desperately.

"Do you think I'm an idiot, Blake? That I haven't heard what you've been saying? What you've been thinking?!" Adam hissed. He was trembling not unlike Blake, his shaking brought on by an entirely different set of emotions. "Did you honestly believe that I wouldn't notice? How you've been planning things behind my back?"

"What are you -"

"No speaking until I'm through!" Blake cringed at the shout and her ears twitched hearing several people outside scurry away. They knew better than to be nearby when Adam became like this. Shame she didn't have the luxury.

Composing himself somewhat Adam pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. His trembling stopped though veins in his neck continued to pulse, his complexion red. "They warned me about you and your little circle, Blake. I ignored the signs because I thought better of you. I knew… No, I assumed that you of all people would never betray me. That I'd always have you."

"You do!" Blake said, desperation thick in her voice.

Adam raised his hand and she drew back preemptively. Rather than be struck however he placed a hand on her head and drew her close. Her face pressed into his chest and she let her arms drop rather than push back.

"So… Either you're lying to me and you've been planning to kill me, or Ilia is acting without your knowledge and she's guilty."

"No…"

"Then what, Blake? What's going on?" Adam demanded.

She'd like to know that herself. Trying to turn her head in Adam's grip she glanced back down at the shattered vial. Opal would be the only person who knew how to concoct it, true, but it wasn't as if poison was that hard to come by. Any number of villages would have apothecaries who could create it. Black markets sold it by the quart in some cases. That poison could have come from anywhere.

Yuma's self-satisfied face flashed through her mind and Blake felt her blood chill in her veins. "Yuma…" she whispered, hands growing clammy, a bead of sweat trickling down the back of her neck.

"What was that?"

"It was Yuma," she repeated with certainty. It had to be. She didn't know why, or when, but Yuma was framing her. Her friends.

Blake bit her tongue as Adam grabbed her bicep and twisted. His other hand cupped her chin and she kept her expression calm despite the hurricane of emotions in her breast. "Say that again…"

She tried but the words died on her tongue and refused to pass her lips. As if to coerce her to speak Adam brushed the pad of his thumb across her lower lip, tilting her head and smiling. She couldn't bring herself to repeat Yuma's name aloud and averted her eyes, hissing in pain as her arm was wrenched again. "Y-Yuma… I said it was Yuma's doing…"

"You're delusional." And you're paranoid, Blake spat back, wishing she was as brave in person as she were in her mind. Adam released his grip and stepped away, pacing and folding his hands behind his back. "You're telling me that Yuma, the man sent by Sienna Khan, is attempting to have me killed."

"He's framing me, Adam. He's framing us," Blake clarified. She didn't know why but he had to be. Ilia wouldn't have asked for that vial, nor would Opal have made it. They knew better. "Please, you have to believe - "

"Believe you? Blake, I can't even trust you anymore." Adam sounded pained, though she recognized it for what the tone truly was: barely concealed fury. "You've failed me twice, probably many more times besides, and now this. You can't even control those around you. And to think I'd had you as my right hand for so long…"

Beyond the tent and out of view screams erupted. Blake recognized Ilia's voice at once and color drained from her face. Immediately she rushed for the flaps and burst out of the tent in time to see a small group of her fellow members subduing Ilia, binding her with thick rope. Brinne and Flemish were bound and dragged along by two hulking men, and Opal was carried by another pair, her frail form hardly able to put up a fight.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Blake shouted, heat rising in her chest as she stormed out. "Unhand them! What do you think you're doing!?"

"Exactly as I ordered them to, Blake." Adam emerged from the tent and Blake's heart stopped. He carried his sword with him, unsheathed, its red blade glowing in the afternoon sun. "I'm doing what any sensible leader would with traitors in their midst."

"No…"

Her friends were brought to kneel before Adam's tent. Liam and Dunst arrived last, each man battered and bruised. The former looked up at Blake shamefully, one eye swollen shut and blood trickling from a cut in his brow. "Sorry, we tried to stop 'em…"

"Adam, they didn't do anything!" Blake whirled around and screamed at her commander. She felt her stomach turn and her clothing stuck to her as she sweat. "Please, Adam, don't…"

"Either you planned this, Blake, or they did…" Adam walked by her, shrugging off her hands on his shoulder. He stood before Ilia and lifted her chin with the tip of his blade. Blood trickled from her throat, yet she remained calm. As calm as one could when facing their executioner. Adam relished in her abject terror and smiled. "So, who did it, Blake? Who's responsible?"

Yuma was. Or someone else. No one in her party would have tried to do such a thing. They wanted to stop the attack, yes, but none of them were dumb enough to try and kill Adam. Even if it had succeeded, and that was if they even had tried to begin with, then what? Where would they go from there?

"Ilia… Tell me that you didn't…" Blake pleaded, approaching her friend. Ilia cast her eyes down and said nothing, unable to turn with Adam's blade at her throat. "Ilia, say something!"

"Should I take her silence as a confession then?" Adam pressed his blade and Ilia whined, turning her head away as his blade bit into her neck. "One clean cut and I can end her, Blake. Is she going to die, or are you going to finally be honest?"

She searched desperately for a sympathetic face in the crowd. She found none. Most looked away in shame or deference while others, disturbingly, smiled and watched the display with grim satisfaction. Why? She asked herself, feeling a chill cold as winter race through her. Why aren't they helping? They have to know we wouldn't do this. I wouldn't do this.

Brinne and Flemish remained silent, doing a much poorer job than Ilia of containing their fear. Dunst and Liam seemed barely able to remain upright. Blake's eyes sought Opal's and the elderly Canis smiled reassuringly. She was on the executioner's block and Opal was trying to help her remain calm? What was she, suicidal?

"Fine. For the crime of attempting to assassinate a superior officer, and for plotting against the White Fang, I hereby sentence you six to death." Adam raised his blade and sneered. "I hope your souls are dragged through the mud in the afterlife."

"Adam, wait!" Blake raced forward and caught Adam's arm, barely. His sword hovered inches from Ilia's neck and she could feel his muscles tense in her hands. She pulled back and stumbled when he pushed her away." I did it! I got the poison, I meant to use it. They're innocent!"

Calmly, far calmer than he should have been, Adam turned towards Blake. "I don't believe you."

"It's true! I stole some while we were in Alabaster and I planned to use it! I'd… I'd hidden it in Ilia's tent because I knew it'd be found in mine. I didn't think anyone would have reason to search hers!"

Adam studied her for a moment, one that dragged on for an eternity. When voices in the crowd began to stir he finally raised a hand and silenced them before shouting could begin. "Are you confessing to attempting to kill me, Blake…?" He stepped closer, balancing his blade in his hand.

Every fiber of her being compelled her to run, to use a spell and flee. She couldn't, she knew she couldn't, and Adam knew that too. She was trapped. "I… I am…"

"And these people," Adam gestured with his blade behind him. "Your… Friends, they knew nothing about it. You planned this alone?"

"I did," Blake reasserted firmly.

Again, Adam went silent, tilting his head as he watched Blake. Then, after a long, arduous stare down he shook his head. "I don't believe you." Her heart sank, and she readied to plead her case, or rather, her friend's cases, until Adam held a hand up again. "But, if you're so intent on carrying the responsibility for this then I have a way you can make it up to me."

Without hesitation Blake nodded vigorously and stepped forward. "Whatever you want, Adam. Just don't kill them and I'll do whatever you ask of me."

"Oh, I won't kill them, don't worry." Adam chuckled and flipped his blade, holding it by the flat edge towards Blake. "You do it. Prove your loyalty to me and kill the traitors or die with them."

Wait… Blake stared down at Adam's weapon, arms refusing to budge from her sides. When her eyes finally tore themselves away she met the horrified looks of her friends. She couldn't do that. She wouldn't do that. "Kill me instead," she heard herself say, surprised by her own defiance.

"This is an order, Blake," Adam growled. "Kill them now, or I will."

Blake shook her head as her heart clenched. "N-No…"

"Blake, it's okay." Ilia smiled as she tried to stand, only to fall forward from the bindings on her legs. She'd have fallen completely if a soldier didn't grab her and keep her on her knees. "We know you're innocent."

"What do you mean 'we'?! I didn't do anything!" Flemish shouted.

"We've only ever been faithful to the Fang!" bellowed Dunst, the Toro's massive frame shaking. "We'd never do such a thing!"

"It's now or never, Blake. Prove to me that you're loyal," Adam urged, lifting the sword.

"Don't do it! We're innocent!"

Blake reached for the sword and stopped short. Her fingers refused to grip the hilt no matter how much she forced them to do so.

"Blake, it's okay." Ilia leaned forward, or perhaps fell, held up again by the soldier behind her. "Do what you have to. Stay safe."

Flemish fought against his restraints and spat at the ground furiously. "I'm not dying because of her! She already botched the Alabaster job, all because some blonde showed a little fire! She's spineless!"

"If w-we would have fought the s-supplies would have been destroyed," stammered Brinne. "She did what was right."

"What she did was cost us valuable supplies for our mission tomorrow," Adam responded coolly. Taking his weapon back by the grip he approached the group again and knelt before Flemish, smiling as the man leaned away. "You're innocent, you say?"

"Of course we are!" Somehow the Kanin managed to not cower before his commander, his voice strained but face hard as stone. "We wouldn't dream of killing you, commander."

"So…" Adam ran a finger along the edge of his blade. "You're all innocent, which means Blake is the only culprit here, correct…?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying!" Flemish shouted. He grinned desperately and pulled against his bindings. "She betrayed you, Adam, not us! I… I saw her take it in Alabaster, I swears it! We are loyal just like we always 'ave been!"

She was being sold out. There was no way Flemish could know where the poison had come from. Hell, Blake herself was convinced Yuma had brought it in to frame her. She'd been willing to die not a moment ago for his sake and this was how he repaid her? She wanted to hate the man in that moment, to yell at him for being a traitor, to call him a coward for cowing and groveling before Adam.

Blood splattered against the grass and Flemish's scream came out as a garbled mess. His eyes were wide with fright and he looked down at the blade thrust through his chest, gasping inaudibly. With a wet tear Adam ripped his weapon free and waved off the men holding Flemish, watching as he fell to the ground, twitched as his final breath left his body, then laid motionless as the ground ran red with his blood.

Beside Flemish's corpse Brinne began to cry while Dunst and Liam looked terribly ill. Opal hung her head and Ilia, pale yet upright, stared in shock at what had been done.

Blake hadn't taken her eyes off Flemish the entire time. Why? Why had he been killed? Had he done it? She flinched and tried to draw away when Adam grabbed her shoulder, petrified for what he might do. Iron stung her lungs and she glanced with morbid curiosity as Adam's red blade dripped with a darker shade.

"I know Flemish was innocent… Just as I knew you're innocent, and the others."

"Wh-what…"

"I can't have dissenters in our midst, Blake. Not when we're about to go to battle," Adam continued, rubbing Blake's arm. "That poison was a plant, intended to lure out those willing to turn on us. On each other. We're all on the same side here, my love. People like him, trash like that…" He shook his head and scowled. "They have no place with us. If we root out people who might turn on a whim against his brothers or sisters, then we're all safer for it."

That was all a ploy? A game? Blake stared at Adam's back as he addressed the crowd, unable to process what had just happened. Had all that really been just to act as a warning to anyone conspiring against Adam? The White Fang? Leading the crowd in a rally Adam shouted for glory, for blood and for justice. The crowd followed suit, a hivemind forming before her very eyes. Brinne continued to cry and Opal had managed to get close to her, free of her bindings and holding the young Canis comfortingly.

"Make no mistake, brothers and sisters, we no longer have enemies in our midst! I have made sure of that personally! The Church, Murans, and those who lick their boots, they are the enemy!" Adam glowed as people chanted and shouted, standing taller than ever. He basked in their fervor, Blake was certain. It was terrifying how readily those around her gave their support. "Tomorrow we will remind these people what complacency deserves, and why they should respect and fear us. Tomorrow marks a new beginning for our organization. Count yourselves blessed to be there to witness it!"

Adam looked back over his shoulder and smiled. Over all the shouting of the crowd and the cries of Brinne nearby, over Ilia's desperate pleas for it to stop, somehow Blake heard him.

"Let's hope no one else has to die tomorrow, hm?"