Sorry this took so long. Fuck COVID. Fuck 2020. The sooner this whole mess blows over the better.
A great stone wall presided over their duel, a judge to an execution. Who would fall that day remained to be seen. Whose blood would turn the soil red? Both of them? Neither? If Hazel had his way they would walk away and be done with this sordid ordeal. Opposing sides did not need to ruthlessly assail one another. Violence begot only more violence.
He knew his allies would not stay their hands. Raven would cut Ahmar down without a second's hesitation. The rest would do much the same.
Silver serpents lashed out. Hissing, coiling, streaks of steel struck at blinding speeds, making the air ring in their wake. Scraping against his plate armor sparks flew and wires pulled taut, twisting in a manner that made them appear alive. Rock shattered. Hazel felt his flesh tear, his calf bloodied. Magic flooded to tend to the wound as another laceration across his cheek began to bleed. In a whirlwind of sinewy strikes Ahmar stood atop wires, an acrobat poised to put on their greatest performance. Were it any other circumstance he might have complimented the man's balance.
Snap.
A King Taijitu's preferred method of slaughtering its prey? Swallowing whole or constriction. Lacking fangs the wire did its best nonetheless to emulate the Grimm, twisting and wrapping around Hazel's limbs. Hazel felt his plate tighten against his chest; leather cracking as razor-sharp threads cut deep. His right gauntlet shimmered, released a burst of green energy, and the wire flew from his person.
In the mid-afternoon sun there was no concealing the wires. Every strand caught the rays and shone with lethal brilliance. Light itself became distorted, mirrored off thin threads and casting blinding rays across the canyon. In the shadow of the fortress' walls Ahmar stood out as a beacon. A Mistralian snake whisperer, only with a much more lethal pet.
Another burst of air kept the threads at bay. Little more than an inconvenience to the man, Ahmar snapped them back in an instant, deft motions with each hand sending wire slicing through the air.
Metal manipulation? Hazel flexed his left hand, blue Dust crystal flaring. Water erupted before him under enough pressure to divert some of the wires. He felt the sting of metal on flesh and flared his magic again, grit his teeth, and threw a gale at Ahmar. Only minor amounts. No, I should assume he can manipulate my armor too.
Losing the armor meant certain death but retaining it gave Ahmar more ammunition in their battle. Hazel deflected another flurry. Ahmar leapt to another series of wires, bouncing slightly and darting across the chasm. Wire ripped free from the ground and whipped at Hazel's face, slicing through the waterspout.
Hazel tasted blood.
Steel grated against steel. Sparks filled the air, a poor imitation of a luminous night sky. Letting his magic run freely Hazel mended every wound Ahmar created, chasing the man from one side of the chasm to the other. Him, a stationary turret weathering a multitude of blows and Ahmar the pesky pigeon, persistently pressing him, pushing him to react faster and faster. His chest plate screeched, sparks flew into his face, and on pure reflex Hazel snatched wire out of midair. Hissing through the pain he pulled on the metal and felt it give, snapping free of the walls and falling uselessly to the ground.
Until it wrapped around his hand and dug into flesh, drawing blood even through the leather and plate. Wire leashed his legs together and coiled up his body, biting into his neck. Both gauntlets flared. Air and water mixed and erupted, blowing wires away and shearing stone, reducing solid rock to dust.
"I fight for order! You fight to throw the kingdom into chaos!"
Yes, there would be chaos. Transitions of power rarely came about without some degree of turmoil. Just as the Church of Remnant's introduction had been met with riots and surges in malcontents so too would its dismantling. Hazel accepted that. For the people to be their own masters again they would have to endure a period of strife. They would come out the other side stronger and better for it.
Magic would be free. The truth known and together, without secrets, humanity could conquer the Grimm together.
Hazel clapped his hands together and aimed at Ahmar. Wind swirled and combined with water, forming at his fingertips, then fired off in a concentrated blast. Ahmar dodged easily enough and the stone behind him was bored through, sliced apart as easily as fresh bread from the ovens.
Was their solution ideal? Hardly. Raven and those like her would no doubt take advantage of the chaos and try to gain more. Ultimately someone would need to replace the Church. Some governing body was necessary to regulate magic, but those could be done in other ways. Perhaps guilds. Perhaps kingdom-by-kingdom.
Anything would be preferable to Ozpin and his secrets.
Rocks tumbled from the walls and wire pulled free, entwining with itself and forming a solid limb, one which swat at Hazel. The ground at his feet shattered, stone and dust filling the air. The bulky yet still sharp limb drove itself into his side, pressing his armor, causing it to creak and crumble. Hazel wrapped his arm around it and held it in place, his screams of exertion causing the dust to scatter. Or maybe it was the wind Dust activating, blowing away loose strands, filaments snapping at his exposed flesh flying to the wayside.
A ranged battle was not one he could win, not like this. Unleashing what remained of his wind Dust he felt a gust erupt at his back, billowing and launching him forward. Wire bit into his side and Hazel endured, grit his teeth, and reached out. Bloodied hands seizing Ahmar's shirt. The wind continued to surge, and he pulled the man close, held him firm, and closed his eyes as a fist wracked the side of his skull repeatedly.
The instant his feet left the ground he felt the Dust shatter, shards flying in his face and clinking off his armor. Wires creak and snap as they flew into and through them. Superficial wounds marred his body and the sunlight faded as they launched into shadow. Hazel looked up, saw the wall racing to meet them, and pushed Ahmar forward.
Old though the fortress might have been stone was still stone. Propelled by wind magic the two men collided and at first seemed as though they would stop there. To Hazel's surprise however the stone gave, mortar worn and weakened by disrepair. Stones broke free and snapped, dust and webbing swallowing them whole. For a brief moment they were swallowed in darkness, surrounded by the sound of brick crumbling, their breathless shouts echoing in the empty walls around them. Ahmar hit the far wall and Hazel continued into him, slamming body into body and hurtling them both through the other side.
It was… Admittedly higher than Hazel had expected. Not that he had planned to fly through the wall to begin with; slamming Ahmar into stone with his body weight should have knocked the man out by rights and ended the fight. Yet the Hunter twisted under him, glaring and grabbing Hazel's chest plate. He felt the magic surge before the metal warped, collapsing inward and slamming into his breast. The force of it separated them and Ahmar fell straight down, somehow catching himself and skidding across the ground to a halt.
Hazel continued to tumble. Sent astray by Ahmar's spell he flew back towards the wall, dropping towards the ground at an alarming rate. All he could do was twist himself so his back was to whatever he would collide with, tuck his chin to his chest, and wait for impact.
Once, in training, Hazel had been kicked by a horse. Bold and hasty to begin his training he had presumed to know how to coerce the creature into listening to him. When it rebuked him and snorted, he'd tried to mount it again, bucked free before he could get his foot in the stirrup. Rounding it and swearing up and down while his fellow squires laughed he had slapped the horses' ass in anger. The result? Two horseshoe shaped dents in his armor and three broken ribs.
Healing magic or no it had taken some time until he felt well enough to make the effort again. Being kicked by a horse was by and large one of the more painful experiences of his life.
His landing felt ten times worse than that. A lopsided cart provided no relief as his back struck and smashed through wood, legs clipping the walls and sending jolts of agony along his spine. Air left his body in a silent shout and he bounced off the ground once, buried in the shattered cart.
Heal. His magic flared; one eye shut as blood spilled down his brow. Mend. Concentrate. Stay calm. His shoulders quivered. One snapped into place and he silenced the pain with magic, panting as he pulled himself free. His back popped and he let his magic ease the pain, mending the gash in his thigh as he staggered free. One of the leather straps of his chest plate had come undone and the armor now hung uselessly off one shoulder, dented and scored with innumerable scars. Hazel cursed, grabbing the other strap and tearing it free, once polished steel falling to his feet with a hefty thud.
Wires collapsed around Ahmar and the man sneered, doubled over and breathing heavily. Still standing? Great. Clearly, he'd done something to offend the gods recently. Just what would it take to put Ahmar down?
Pacifism was off the table. Ahmar removed another spool of wire from his pouch, smaller than the first, and it immediately snapped to life. Utilizing what was left of his Dust, Hazel leveled an abandoned stall with a surge of water, shattered windows with another. The gemstone shattered and tumbled out of his gauntlet.
From his pants he retrieved two more shards and embedded them in his gauntlets. One flared to life, a pulsing yellow glow. Stones at his feet trembled and he flicked his wrist, tearing a chunk of earth free. A red stone in his right hand shimmered and a flame engulfed the stone. With a shout he punched his fist into rock and sent it hurtling at Ahmar, forming another as the first was cut in two.
Another molten stone soared over Ahmar's head and crashed into dilapidated stables. Hay took to the flame like a drunkard to wine. The dark, forgotten space burned with a brilliant hue and long neglected timbers, collapsing under their own weight already, creaked and fell into the fire. Flames rose and roared angrily, the first new life the fortress had seen in some time, no doubt. Hazel erected a stone wall and fell to one knee behind it, lowering his head and covering it with one hand. Wire sliced clean through and rubble bounced off his back.
"We brought peace to the kingdoms, commander! We ended centuries of strife!" Hazel vaulted over the wall and launched fire, haphazard streams that drove Ahmar back. Where wire failed to stop it the Hunter instead raced for cover, diving behind a low stone wall. "You and your ilk want to bring all of that back? You want to see Remnant burn?!"
"I want to see Remnant free!"
"Freedom is an illusion, commander! Someone must always lead. Mankind cannot operate without a leader. They cannot be trusted on their own!" Ahmar shouted. "That goes for your precious king as well!"
Stone shattered and Hazel glared at the empty spot, eyes tracking for movement along the wall. Slowly circling it he kept one gauntlet leveled at it, earth Dust primed to activate, fire burning dully in the other.
"Ozpin is a man just as I am, Ahmar. The Church is not above these accusations you level at us."
"The Church holds no allegiances to the kingdoms! We serve only to protect! So what if some secrets are kept? Do you mean to tell me you and your knights share all?" Hazel rounded the wall and found empty ground greeting him. Stones rattled and he crossed his arms before his head, grunting as pieces of the wall smashed against his forearms. "Kings only wish to see themselves grow wealthier! We exist only to serve!"
"Are you so blind to your own hypocrisy?! Can you not see you are the very thing you're decrying?"
"All I see is a man trying to steal power for himself!"
Hazel turned and let a fireball fly free. Cinders erupted as it collided with the walls of derelict barracks, casting the empty building in a crimson glow as embers showered onto empty barrels. One was turned over, a broken spear and rusted sword laying at its mouth.
"We cooperate with the kings, with nobility! We fight the Grimm, keep the kingdoms safe! And yet somehow, we're to blame? We're the enemy?!" Ahmar stepped to the edge of the barracks' roof and looked down. "Who is the hypocrite, I wonder? You proclaim freedom yet want power for yourself! Or do you truly think humanity needs no guiding hand?" he spat. "If so then you're delusional! Mankind will eradicate itself if left unchecked!"
"If you've already given up on humanity then why fight to protect it? Why fight for a lost cause?"
Ahmar raised his hand and wires snapped rigid, lifting off the roof of the barracks. Swords, spears, axes and a mace or two hovered in mid-air, suspended by wires. "Because for all its faults I am among them. We are not gods, Hazel. Magi are still part of humanity. And I would rather see our imperfect world continue than risk it all on a whim. To let some…" His face crumpled in a furious scowl. "Fanciful extremists destroy everything we've worked to preserve!"
Hazel narrowly avoided the spear that hurtled towards him, burying itself halfway up the shaft in the ground. A sword ricocheted off the wall to his right, snapping and throwing rusted shards, the hilt smacking against a nearby well. More weapons fell, an axe whistling past his head and burying itself in a signpost, a sword smacking against a stone wall at his back. Opposite the barracks loomed the keep, and although one of the more modest ones he'd seen at only two stories and unassuming in appearance it provided the one thing he needed most.
Shelter.
The barred wooden door provided little resistance as Hazel drove his shoulder into and through timbers. Light spilled into the room and he almost stumbled over the carpet. How absurd that would have been. In the middle of a pitched battle, evading flying weapons only to meet his end by breaking his neck on a rug.
Hazel barreled past an armchair and dove over a sofa, landing and making himself as small as he could. Another spear whistled into the building and struck the sofa hard, pushing it forward and tearing through leather. Hazel thought to grab the spear only for an axe to slice through the top of the couch a second later and careen past him, exploding as it struck the rear wall. Keeping low Hazel scrambled from the couch, catching a shadow out of the corner of his eyes. Earth Dust activated again, and part of the ground rose to intercept a sword, cursing as it bounced off and slapped his bicep. Wires slashed through his barrier and rock crumbled away revealing Ahmar in the doorway, wires pushing aside furniture as he staggered inside. Stairs creaked as Hazel raced up them, grabbing an end table at the top and hurling it down at the Hunter. All it accomplished was annoy his opponent, furniture reduced to scraps. Grabbing the bannister instead Hazel let the fire Dust run rampant and sent a plume racing down the stairs, engulfing them. Black smoke began to spill into the keep, obscuring the stairway and filling the stairwell with suffocating clouds.
Wires had no issue and lashed out blindly, separating railing from banister and shredding paintings and shattering windows. Hazel slammed a hand against the wall and pulled stones free from both sides, stepping back and letting it seal itself, grimacing as wires made easy work of that too. Ready however for it this time he gathered flames in his palm and lobbed a fireball at Ahmar, striking the ground with his other fist. A stone shifted and knocked the man off balance. Fire struck steel and the Hunter cursed, staggering back into the hall as it steadily filled with smoke.
Both Dust crystals shattered. Such was the risk of using impure stones. Hazel barreled down the hallway, past paintings faded with time and half a dozen doors flanking him on either side. At the far end of the hall he shouldered another door open and winced as pain shot through him. His magic faltered for a moment and his back throbbed, teeth clenching in agony. Not bothering to shut the door - if stone failed to stop Ahmar then wood was a waste of time - he looked for a means of escape. Twins doors leading to a balcony provided his means of escape. Making a break for them he stopped as a twinkle caught his eye. A fireplace by the doors, coated in dust and soot, the screen turned grey with webbing, stood somberly beside molted, fraying bedding atop a lonely four-post bed.
That will help.
Hazel heard hissing and made a run for the doors, feet pounding on hardwood. No sooner did he throw them open did something seize his right hand, pulling him back into the keep. Fumbling with the straps around his wrist he managed to undo them as the door beside him split apart, the ceiling collapsing as wires lashed out erratically. Abandoning his gauntlet in the room he rushed to the balcony and did all he could to escape.
For the second time in mere minutes he was airborne, only this time it was a controlled fall. Using magic to reinforce his legs he hit the ground and rolled, grunting as his knees still took a disconcerting amount of punishment. He turned back and watched as the doors exploded from their hinges, wire surging out and grabbing onto the balcony's rail. Ahmar came hurtling out after them, face covered with a strip of cloth. One hand extended and wires retracted before firing down upon him like a volley of arrows. Hazel stood firm, took a deep breath, and moved his stolen prize to his exposed hand. Wire cut deep into his thigh and shoulder, another scoring a long gash across his cheek. Ahmar continued to hurtle down towards him, drawing a vicious curved knife. Hazel flared all his remaining magic and endured every cut scored, even as the blood loss began to catch up with him.
His palm burned. Searing pain made his knuckles go white and hand tremble, every fiber of his being begging for him to release his grip. Electricity crackled from his hand and his skin sizzled, then boiled. Through the pain he reached out and caught one of Ahmar's wires, creating a link between them.
He needs to create a link between us. Lightning snaked its way up his arm and across his chest, burning flesh. Ahmar attempted to divert but Hazel pulled on the wire, trembling as his body absorbed the Dust's effects. Ahmar wobbled. Hazel let the magic run though him, using himself as a conduit. His remaining gauntlet sparked and turned red hot before the magic met wire and raced up towards the Hunter.
Hazel screamed as his body seized up and a dagger buried itself in his shoulder. Ahmar echoed him, body curling up as lightning struck him, the full force of the Dust crystal being fed into the Hunter.
Unrefined dust was nowhere near as potent. It held magic poorer, lasted for shorter durations and was more difficult to control. It was easier to find however even with the Church enacting its embargo on the material.
Hazel's hand finally opened as the pain became too much to bear even with magic. A purple crystal fell to the ground coated in blood, hissing as lightning danced across its smooth face, perfectly rounded and chiseled.
Ahmar's stomach collided with Hazel's fist. The man's momentum carried him through the blow and right into Hazel, sending both of them tumbling into the dirt. Hazel righted himself first, staggered, and stumbled towards the hunter who remained on the ground, curled up and trembling. Lightning danced across Ahmar's body and the man continued to curse and scream, wires limp around him now.
His right arm dangled at his side numb. Hazel didn't need to look to know his hand was burned to a near crisp, the dagger in his shoulder making the slightest movement agonizing. Even with his magic the pain brought tears to his eyes and made his head swim, swaying as he advanced towards Ahmar. His left gauntlet fell to the ground, straps burned through, and with his bare hand he grabbed Ahmar's shirt and dragged the man through the dirt, hissing as lightning lapped at his skin, uncaring of friend or foe. Towards the well they went and once they reached it Hazel threw Ahmar against it, pausing briefly to tear the dagger free. It clattered to the ground and he groaned, body shuddering. Attempting to use what little magic remained, the fraying, fitful remnants of his reserves, he began to mend the wound as best he could, leaning forward and grabbing Ahmar once again.
The man made a fitful effort to break free from Hazel's grip, but his limbs continued to tremble and twitch out of his command. Much of the Hunter's flesh, blackened and smoking, sizzled beneath his clothing. Even without a killing blow it was likely Ahmar would die of his wounds soon enough. Hazel lifted the Hunter off his feet and pushed him against the well, panting as he felt his vision began to fade. His chest constricted and he coughed, releasing the shirt to grab Ahmar's throat.
Enemy or not he would give Ahmar one last kindness. A swift, painless death. Better than slowly succumbing to burns and whatever havoc the lightning had wreaked on his organs. Hazel tightened his grip and heard Ahmar gasp, hands slapping and clawing at his own. The Hunter's lone eye trembled and he grit his teeth, trying and failing to kick Hazel away. Hazel pushed harder, coughing and wheezing as his chest continued to tighten.
Like a dying flame he watched the light leave Ahmar's eye, the man's arms falling to his sides. With the last of his strength he pushed the Hunter over the edge and watched as his body fell into the dark void of the well, hurtling out of view and landing in water with a hard splash.
Hazel's chest constricted and he felt himself unable to breathe. Grasping for air as if to catch it for himself he staggered back, kicking aside the dagger and falling onto his rear. Panting, he glanced down at the offending weapon, mind already putting two and two together even before he saw the green edge of the blade. He kicked it aside, grasping his chest and taking desperate breaths for air. Magic. Use magic. Focus on the wound, mitigate it. Halt its flow.
Except he had none left or could not muster enough focus to make use of it. Groaning, Hazel collapsed back, chest heaving as he stared up at the sky through half-lidded eyes. His lungs burned; his nerves burned; everything burned. Had Ahmar been saving that dagger as a failsafe? No, he had not come here expecting to fight, at least not Hazel. Coughing, Hazel tried to lift himself, rose partway, then collapsed back into the dirt. Shutters creaked as the wind blew, his hair, dirty and matted from fighting, blowing out of his face. While vis vision clouded, he was given an unobstructed view of the sky, soft, pillowy clouds passing by at a languid pace. Despite his body being wracked with pain and the feeling of his chest caving in Hazel smiled, sputtering and coughing.
What a beautiful blue sky, he thought.
/+/+/+/+/+/
Gretchen Rainart smiled. She felt she did a lot of that lately, and in no small part thanks to the children of the court. She had her own duties to attend to of course, not the least of which involved carrying messages for the King, but in what free time she had she spent looking after the children. By now she had memorized their names, their favorite foods, animals, colors, and whatever else they deigned important enough to share with her. Unlike their parents who were so unyielding and caught up in the games of nobility the children enjoyed themselves. They had fun. Doubtless when made to they were well behaved, but as Gretchen watched two boys tussle and roll around in grass, thoroughly soiling their tunics, she had a difficult time imagining that.
The gardens within the castle always provided a wonderful place for them to sneak away and have fun. Few nobles bothered visiting them despite their splendor and servants paid no mind to her or the children anymore. Some stopped to comment on the display, laughing or struggling to hide their amusement. No one was inclined to make sure the children acted more befitting of their heritage.
Children were just that and no title should rob them of enjoying their youth.
It was refreshing, and certainly a welcome break from the mind-numbingly droll proceedings of court. His Majesty would pull her away sooner or later for work but until then Gretchen had little intentions of leaving.
A soft cry stole her from her thoughts and a young redhead ran up to her clutching her hand to her chest. No older than five, the little girl with pigtails red as a hearth's flame stopped before her, tears welling in her eyes. She looked up at Gretchen, sniffled, and shuffled in her stained yellow dress.
"Aw, what's wrong, Cinna? Did you get hurt?"
Cinna nodded, sniffling again. She held up her hand and whimpered. Gretchen handled the girl delicately, holding her wrist and leaning down to inspect the wound. A small scratch, probably from grabbing a rose, and hardly anything worth crying over. Scratches like that were nothing to her but everything to a child. Cooing, Gretchen lifted the small girl and set her in her lap.
"There there. You're okay, sweetheart. Here…" Gretchen took a small handkerchief from her gown and wrapped it around Cinna's hand. The girl whimpered, lips trembling.
"It huwts!"
"I know it does, Cinna. But it's okay! Know why?" The small girl shook her head and Gretchen beamed. "I know how to make it all better. It's a secret, ready? You have to promise not to tell anyone though."
"S-Secwet…?"
"Mhm. It's something my big brother taught me. When we were little, he would always take care of me. He still tries to," she drawled, rolling her eyes and smiling. "But whenever I got a booboo like yours, he would make it all better. Do you know how?"
Cinna shook her head, kicking her legs as she stared at Gretchen expectantly. "Magic?" she guessed after a moment.
"Well yes, but only for really bad booboos. Whenever I got one like yours, he did something extra special." She peeled the handkerchief back and held up Cinna's hand, smiling softly while the girl whined. "He would kiss my booboo and it made it all better. Want to see?" Taking the nod as permission she leaned down and planted a light kiss on the scratch, stroking the girl's hand with her thumb.
She did not have Hazel's magic, nor any magic for that matter. While he had excelled in small part thanks to his gifts, she had made her place in the world by her own talents. Knowing how to pen a convincing letter and having the means of delivering it was one such talent. Soothing a five-year-old who was convinced their scrape was a mortal wound was another. Cinna sniffled again, looked at her hand, and blinked tearfully.
"Well?" Gretchen smiled. "How does it feel now?"
"It still huwts…"
"But does it hurt as much?" Cinna shook her head and Gretchen chuckled. "See? And you're such a big, strong girl that you'll heal in no time. But if you want to you can keep my handkerchief for now, okay? Just to keep your booboo covered."
Nothing had changed really but then nothing needed to. Children had a wonderful ability to find relief in the smallest of things. A soft piece of cloth, a soft word, or a gentle kiss on a scrape. Less feasible for a healer or surgeon but just what was needed for someone like Cinna. Gretchen beamed as the girl managed a smile, stroking her hair before setting Cinna back on her feet.
"Just be careful, okay? And when you see your mommy and daddy later show them so they can clean it."
"Okay. Thank you, Miss Rainart!"
"Miss? You're making me sound old, Cinna!" Gretchen laughed. "You can call me Gretchen, sweetie. Or 'the cool Rainart sibling', that works too." The girl giggled and Gretchen smiled, patting her head. "There we are! That's the smile I wanted to see."
Garbled chatter and giggles preceded a rush of children and five smiling faces bounded over to her.
"I got a booboo too, Miss Rainart!"
"Me too, ma'am!"
"Us too!"
Gretchen laughed, getting up from the bench and wriggling her fingers threateningly. "So many booboos! Maybe I'll have my brother help when he gets back." She grinned. "But until then… The tickle monster is going to get you!"
Children's squeals filled the garden, stubby legs churning as they turned and spread out. Gretchen rolled her eyes again, smiled, and started to 'run' after them, growling threateningly as she reached out to catch them. This was much, much better than her usual work. The servants watching from the sidelines seemed to agree too.
Again, sorry. This should have come out a week ago at the very least considering it was ready. Wasn't much of a chapter either, just the second half of the last one. I'll make sure this next chapter comes out sooner.