Sorry for this update taking longer than I promised. It's been a crazy past few weeks, what with my own graduation, my church's annual Greek festival, and work. That said, I'm not making excuses, and will be doing my damn best to make sure chapter updates come out within 10-14 days apart. The good news is I now have a beta, who has gone through and reviewed all previous chapters and caught up with my live-writing. He (ekaterina016) does a great job and has really improved my work and current writings.

Me and my beta were discussing what is the best way to implement spells in the readings, as far as making them stand out in combat and elsewhere so text flows better. He suggested brackets, like [Power Within], while I've decided to go with the spell being the same as my author notes: bolded and italicized, like: With a cast of Combustion, he...

We can also simply leave it as how it's been up until now.

Which one do you guys like better? It's all about what reads better, so while I usually refuse to ever ask for reviews, I would appreciate some input back on that particular question, be it a PM or as a review.

Anyways, you guys have waited long enough. This is where the fun begins, so read, review, follow or not, just remember to enjoy

For as impossibly frustrating as learning sorceries was, it was equally amazing. Weiss learned something with every failure, big or small. She failed a lot, which was something she wasn't really used to. She'd never been allowed to fail, and in that respect, it was refreshing.

Sibyl never pointed her failures out like her father did, with a scathing tone and disappointment. No, he simply corrected her, answered whatever question she asked to try and fix the problem, and moved on. He even complimented her on how much quicker she was in picking up sorcery casts than he did! He was an exceptional teacher, and it was clear she was an exceptional student, as always.

That said, Weiss would readily admit to being somewhat… envious of the woman across from her. Her jealousy wasn't very rational; Glynda Goodwitch was much older, had a Semblance suited to the mental shaping aspect of the soul, and, oh, by the way, had she mentioned the female teacher was also a fairly legendary Huntress?

Weiss, however, was 'only' a Huntress-in-training and only seventeen years old. It was no wonder why Glynda was taking to this whole thing much quicker than her. Such knowledge did very little to make it any less annoying. Not that she'd say it aloud, though, even if her nervousness of learning with Glynda from Sibyl had dissipated over the past month rapidly.

Goodwitch was still her teacher, and Weiss knew better than to antagonize the stern woman. The only thing which helped reduce her irritation on the matter was Glynda seemed to hit road bumps as well, except the Huntress got past them much quicker. Again, age and experience were her advantage, but it was no less annoying.

Sibyl was beginning to branch off their learning paths, at least. Sure, they were both learning the more basic 'brute force' sorceries like Soul Arrow and all its variants, but Sibyl was letting them 'forge their own path', to quote him.

It wasn't so stark as when she decided to come here against her father's wishes, but it was the same principle. Glynda had more than a small amount of interest in the utility of light-based soul sorceries, which had a remarkable number of uses if someone was creative enough.

Weiss was interested in them too, of course, but her main desire right now was to get better in a more brute-force kind of way. Glynda was already very powerful; she could afford to study the more versatile sorceries. Weiss needed to get on an acceptable combat level first, before she branched out.

That had been her reasoning, anyways, for asking Sibyl to teach her the Magic Weapon cast. It was a simple one, honestly, much more so than even Soul Arrow. It coated the weapon she wanted in the blue hue of the soul, and based upon her own strength and understanding in sorcery, would enhance her attacks. Both herself and Sibyl had discussed it at length, and they decided the enchantment would be even more effective against Aura.

If Weiss was going to win the tournament coming up in a few months, and prove she'd made the right choice, she'd need every trick in the book to get past Pyrrha.

For now, though, she was left trying to get used to spreading out the soul energy all along the simple longsword Sibyl had given her. She could concentrate it well, get it to stay, but spreading it across the blade was simply beyond her. Sighing as another one of her attempts failed, she took a glance at Sibyl.

He was an oddity and had become no less of one the more she learned about him. Every time she thought to have him figured out, something changed. His actions in defense of that Faunus back in the cafeteria had shattered her belief he was a… hands-off, relaxed individual. She'd hardly expected him to fulfill the white knight fantasy so thoroughly.

Not that she was angry about how he reacted to Cardin's bullying, but they were at a combat school. The Faunus should have been able to deal with it herself; that was Weiss's belief, anyways.

Those actions still had her wondering if he was a Faunus. Was it possible for him to be hiding his heritage right underneath their noses? She had thought maybe it was some sort of White Fang ploy – he had come and found her on the first day – but decided that no White Fang member could and would be stupid enough to infiltrate this school. And, if he was simply hiding his Faunus heritage, she could mostly understand. Sure, it was frustrating he didn't trust them, but they weren't even on the same team, officially.

Besides, he probably wasn't even a Faunus. Sibyl hardly seemed like the type to hide such a secret, mostly because he didn't seem the type to care what others thought.

As it stood, he was sitting in the center of their room, books around him just as they had been a week or two ago. He was concentrating intensely, and judging by the light scowl on his face, he was not making much progress.

He had taken a lot of time out of his search home to help them, and she only just realized no one had really bothered to help him, or even pretend to care about his journey home. Humming lightly, Weiss dared to ask a simple question. "Any progress?"

Her sorcery teacher looked up at the words, blinking a few times. Glynda, too, stopped studying the scroll in front of her, a scroll on a spell which focused on casting a ball of light.

"Hmm?" Sibyl asked, apparently confused.

"I asked if you'd made any progress on your research," she repeated, slowly.

His good eye lit up, but quickly dimmed as he sighed, giving a small, grim smile. "Unfortunately not. My resources are practically nonexistent, and I'm mostly using guesswork on how the spell works. My experiments haven't had any progress, either."

She 'ah'din acknowledgment, turning to look at the ground. How was she expected to respond to that, anyways? It wasn't as if she could help.

Glynda looked a little bit uncomfortable, but spoke regardless, "I can always check with Ozpin on if he has made any progress." That's right; they were supposed to be working with Sibyl to get him home. It was the whole reason he was attending the school.

Their one-eyed teacher shook his head in response. "There's no rushing this matter. I trust he'll find me when he has something; besides, I intend to use my trip into town this weekend to try and find some books on it."

"…why are you so eager to get back? Do you not like it here?" Weiss wondered aloud, and immediately regretted doing so. "I mean, of course you have family and friends to go back to-"

Sibyl held up a hand to stop her ramblings. "I have no family and very few friends left back in Lordran," he began, "And I do enjoy it here. It's… peaceful, even if I feel so out of place. For Gwyn's sake, I have no idea how that 'Scroll' device even works, and I see all of you use it daily." He sighed softly, closing the book in his hand and setting it down. "Despite my difficulties, this place is still far better than Lordran."

Weiss wasn't sure what to think about that. No family and no friends, yet he insisted on going back. By all accounts, his homeland sounded miserable. Why was he so desperate to get back?

"I'm… destined, I suppose. There is something I must do back in Lordran, all in the hopes of making things just a bit more bearable for those left. I owe it to the man who freed me and saved my life," he admitted, and it was the final piece of the puzzle Weiss needed to figure out why he was so insistent on getting back to Lordran.

He felt indebted, and that was enough to make him discard his own feelings on the matter. It was something she could respect and wouldn't judge him for. God forbid if Yang ever got ahold of that information, though. She would demand a better explanation than 'honor', that absolute brute.

"I… I wish you luck, then. I do enjoy your company and all of… this," Weiss explained, gesturing to the air, "but if it's so clearly important to you, I hope you find a way back."

Sibyl smiled, nodding in appreciation. It was enough that Weiss was glad she'd spoken up, and his next words only added to that satisfaction. "Thank you, Weiss. Until such a time, however, I think I'll try and enjoy this vacation!"

Smiling, Weiss turned back to her sword. Hopefully, Sibyl's vacation was a long one.

With two days left before his trip into town, Sibyl was in the precarious position of being anxious. He knew nothing would likely come from his trip, but there was still a small spark of hope. It was that very same spark which had helped him in his previous journeys, and it would help him in this one, too.

Until he could venture into town, however, he was left trying to find a way to spend his time. In that respect, after a great deal of reflection, he had decided to share the same, superficial secret he had already told his students of. Except this time, it wasn't to his students. It was to a much younger girl.

"Wow," Ruby whispered, tiptoeing closer and leaning forward to get a clear gaze down his bottomless box. She took a sharp intake of breath before turning to him, eyes wide and lips thin. "It's a really dark box."

Sibyl palmed his face, dragging the hand down while Yang laughed from her position at the center of the room, cross-legged and seated on the ground.

"Quiet, Yang," he hissed, turning to glare half-heartedly over his shoulder. His wayward student slowly quieted her chuckles, but he knew she was still mocking him. It was obvious; her body continued to shake in quiet laughs.

"Yes, please be quiet Yang. I'm trying to concentrate!" Weiss added, momentarily lowering her catalyst and putting a hand on her hip. He had her working on a greater version of Soul Arrow at the moment, mostly so she could get used to forming the energies. That said, he was the teacher here. Her complaint was unfounded, and indeed, would actually haunt her in the long-term.

"I suppose you'll politely ask the same of your opponent then, Weiss?" The Heiress opened her mouth to respond but closed it just as quickly, grumbling under her breath about buffoons.

"He has a point," Blake added from her position on one of the makeshift couches, a book in her hands.

The black-haired, bow-wearing girl was a bit of an oddity. She had yet to follow up on her desire to learn more of the Fire Keepers, and indeed, even seemed rather tense around him at all times. It wasn't surprising, given that she knew he was cursed as an undead. What was surprisingwas she insisted on near constantly being around him. Blah. People made no sense.

Clearing his throat, he turned back to Ruby. "This is no simple box, Ruby. Did you notice anything when gazing down it?"

She hummed, moving forward and looking into it again. "It's… really dark?"

He sighed softly, running a hand through his curly hair. "Perhaps it would be better if I simply showed you." Lightly moving her aside, he took his place in front of the bottomless box, reaching a hand in and retrieving the Obsidian Greatsword, a treasure from his fight with Kalmeet.

Ruby 'oh'din amazement as he showed it to her. "That box is without a bottom, and within it, I hold every single weapon I've ever come across and taken a fancy to." Handing over the Obsidian Greatsword to Ruby, he was glad to see she could hold it without much trouble. Her scythe was rather large, so it made sense.

Reaching two hands into his box, he grabbed both of Ciaran's favored weapons: the Dark Silver and Gold Tracers, two blades forged to complement each other expertly. Turning around, he saw Ruby testing the weight of the Obsidian Greatsword with a few weighted, careful swings.

"This is so cool! It's weird, though. I can feel something when I hold it," Ruby spoke with a confounded face, brows scrunched, and eyes narrowed.

Sibyl nodded in agreement at her words, taking the blade back from her after setting the two Tracers onto his nearby bed. "Indeed, there is a power within this weapon. The power of the Black Flame. I dare not beckon it much, lest it expand as it likes to and injure us all."

Nonetheless, he held the sword lightly above him and allowed some of the energy to flow towards the tip of the blade, now facing the ground. He stopped before it could get out of hand, however, not wanting it to explode.

"That's amazing!" Ruby babbled, rushing forward and putting her face mere inches from the blade, "How does it do that? Is there some sorta' mechanism on the inside? Ooh, did you discover some new type of Dust in the Badlands?"

Holding a hand before she could keep on speaking, he decided to answer a few questions. "This weapon is enhanced thanks to the beast I found it with. How it is enchanted, I do not know, but it simply is." He dropped it back into his bottomless box without a worry, the weapon falling without noise. "Onto the next! These are the Gold and Dark Silver Tracers, meant to be paired. I was given them by Ciaran in return for a… favor."

A favor was certainly one way of explaining his giving the corrupted soul of Artorias to a grieving lover.

Shaking his head, he took hold of the twin blades, so similar yet distinctively different. "This," he explained, holding up the darker of the paired blades," is dripping with a deadly poison. The intent is to distract," he slashed with the Golden Tracer, leaving behind a glowing, beautiful trail as he twirled the metal and sliced again, "and then inflict the poison." To emphasis his point, he moved the golden blade up while slashing at around stomach height with the offhand blade.

"They're so pretty," Ruby commented, beckoning a nod of agreement from the undead. He was quick to return the two to the box in the meanwhile.

"Indeed, but no less deadly than any other weapon." He paused as he considered which weapon to show next. In the end, he settled for a classic which he had received personal lessons on: the Murakumo, a large, curved longsword which required just as much skill as it did strength.

He hefted the blade against his shoulder, careful to not hit the celling of the room. "I've never wielded a blade more difficult to use than this one."

Ruby nodded absently, mouth open slightly. "Ooh, does it do anything else? Maybe a chain hidden inside the handle so you can catch people off guard, or, or does it catch on fire?!"

Sibyl rose an eyebrow at her odd questions. "It does no less than cut and slash, Ruby, though I have been known to pair enchantments with it." Reaching for the Oolacile Catalyst he left on his bed incase Weiss needed an example, he moved it over his blade, running it along the base. The Murakumo, blade and all, simply disappeared.

Everyone was silent in the wake of the cast, and he noticed even Blake had stopped reading her book. "W-What? How?" Weiss questioned, eyes alit with interested.

"Hidden Weapon is a tremendously valuable cast. A deeper understanding on the soul's effect on the refraction of light is needed to even begin to understand the cast. It took me ages to get down, and that was only thanks to Dusk's fine teaching abilities," he explained, shrugging lightly.

Weiss did something he could never recall her doing before: she cheered, shaking her hands with joy and laughing. "Yes! Sorcery is amazing!" It seemed he wasn't the only one in shock, as the whole room was staring at her. She eventually realized this, cheeks glowing red. "What? It is!"

Yang nodded with a small smirk. "Yeah, sure seems like it, Weiss-cream, but… just never seen you act so normal."

The Heiress stomped in anger, and Sibyl laughed.

"Unlike us pyromancers, Yang, sorcerers are known to have their catalysts resting within their asses." His blond student stared at him in absolute awe before bursting out in laughter. Weiss crossed her arms and huffed, refusing to look at anyone. Sibyl even swore Blake laughed in the corner.

"H-Hey!" Ruby interrupted, rushing in front of him with help from her Semblance, "Don't be mean to Weiss!"

Sibyl ruffled the top of Ruby's head with his hand, effectively ruining her hair. "Oh, I only jest. I practice sorcery myself, of course. What fun is there in being a teacher if not to poke fun at my students?"

Yang sighed lightly, looking a bit uncomfortable from her spot on the ground. "Yeah. Say, Fireball, do pyromancers have anything like that?"

Humming, he took a moment to consider the question. "Well, pyromancy often focuses more on simple destructive power, but we do have a few abilities to augment oneself."

Ruby nodded, pipping up with her own input. "Yeah. Like how you covered your skin in iron during our duel last week!"

He nodded. "Quite right. There is also Power Within, a cast which enhances one self's strength and natural endurance, but takes the user's soul and health as fuel to do so."

Blake finally shut her book, and that action was enough to get everyone's attention to turn to her. "And Sibyl showed how pyromancy can still be used for utilities like that Hidden Weapon cast. Just look at what he did with that poison cloud against Ruby."

Inclining his head, he continued, "Indeed. Sorcery is more versatile by design, but the only limit to any of the three arts is imagination."

With Yang's faith in pyromancy restored, she nodded and continued to do what he had instructed her to do: summon her flame suddenly in a combustion. It was the most basic of pyromancies, but still quite powerful.

"What is the third art, anyway?" Weiss asked, a single brow raised.

"Miracles," he answered, taking a moment to elaborate, "Quite a few of them, as well. I'm unable to cast any of the healing miracles, as my faith in those gods and their tales are quite… lacking, but Velka and Gwyn have always favored me."

As Ruby prepared to ask a question, there was a knocking on the door. Weiss begrudgingly moved over to open it, allowing Pyrrha, Ren, and Nora to enter. Sibyl sighed; he could barely remember the time when his room was private. They had all been invading constantly since Ruby's intervention, and while it was not always unpleasant, he certainly wished he had more time alone.

In this case, however, he was glad they came. Pyrrha had quite the depressing aura around her, and it was so very unfitting. She moved over to one of the beds, sitting down and resting her head in her hands. Sibyl gave a sidelong glance to Ren, who sighed and shook his head lightly.

Nora's face suddenly appeared in front of his own. "Hey, Sibyl! I've been practicing a lot lately! You know there was that lightning storm the other day?" Sibyl nodded hesitantly at the mad girl's rambling, "Well, I went onto the roof and got lightning to strike me four times! How's that for dedication, huh?"

The undead blinked before slowly opening his mouth, unsure on just what he was going to say. "Very… impressive, Nora."

She smiled, turning her nose up and crossing her arms. "Yup! Just you wait, Mr. Lightning Pirate. I'll be worthy in no time!"

He prepared to respond to why in Gwyn's great beard she had called him a 'Lightning Pirate', but just as suddenly her neck seemed to turn on an instant. "Wow! Is that a bottomless box?!" She rushed over in a burst of speed he hardly knew her capable of.

As Nora gazed into his box with absolute wonder, Ren beside him sighed again and opened his mouth to dismiss Nora. Sibyl? His jaw was unhinged in shock. "How in Izalith did you know?"

The orange-haired girl gave him a look over her shoulder, laughing lightly. "Well, duh, it doesn't end!" She reached into his box, grabbing hold of something and pulling.

He felt his mouth open again when he saw it was Grant, an ancient weapon of the Way of White and choice bludgeoning tool of that old phantom he had come across, Paladin Leeroy, according to Rhea. "You… you can lift that?" Clearly, she could,by the way she gave it a few practice swings but kept it from hitting the ground.

The undead couldn't help it. He chuckled, the deep sound soon turning into full blown laughter as he too to clapping his two hands together, his face splitting into a wide grin. "Marvelous! Simply marvelous. I've never met someone who could match my own strength!"

Nora laughed as well, moving Grant up onto her shoulders. Sibyl decided to gauge her a bit further. "But can you hold it one-handed?"

The girl looked affronted at the implication that she couldn't, and indeed, she was able to lift it with one hand. Still, he saw the vein on her forehead throbbing. He was hardly any different in that regard; Grant was obscenely heavy. Regardless, he considered himself impressed. Moving beside her, he gave her a solid slap on the back and grabbed the weapon himself, returning it to its rightful place in his box.

"Perhaps I misjudged you, Nora." He sighed softly at seeing the hopeful look on her face. "The sun doesn't bless you yet, I'm afraid. That feat alone was enough to persuade me closer to teaching you, but you simply wouldn't be able cast the miracles at the moment."

She sighed, seemingly depressed. It was a shame, but it was the best he'd be able to reassure for now. "Well, that's fine," Nora explained, ending his internal musings, "I really wanna' earn it, you know? I don't want anything to be just given to me. There's no fun in that!"

He smiled lightly, nodding in appreciation at her words. "A fine sentiment to have." It was a belief befitting of a Warrior of Sunlight; that much, he could say.

His good mood shook off remarkably fast when the aura of Pyrrha reasserted itself. He spared her a glance; she was sitting rather dismayed on his bed. It was a far cry from what the beautiful girl should have been doing. He decided some action was needed. "Care to accompany me on a walk, Pyrrha?"

The redhead looked up, startled, but hesitantly nodded with a mumbled reply of yes. "Huh? What about teaching me and Weiss?" Yang asked, and it was a valid question. He felt somewhat bad in abandoning his students, but they were doing fine, and he'd only be a moment.

"It will be a brief stroll. I simply need some fresh air."

His blond student seemed a bit annoyed, but just huffed and went back to trying to combust the flame in her hand. Weiss hardly seemed to care one way or another, going back to forming another Soul Arrow to launch at Havel's shield.

"Hey! Can I come?" Ruby asked, looking at him with hopeful eyes.

He swore they were sparkling! Sighing, he nodded. Perhaps she'd be able to assist with Pyrrha if he was unable to. "Of course, Ruby."

The three set off without much words exchanged – not that no one was talking. Ruby was eagerly explaining all these '"amazing"' and '"awesome"' things he could do to enhance his weapons.

…admittedly, some of the ideas were growing on him, but he'd never say that aloud lest she implement all of them.

Once they had finally gotten outside from the halls and beneath the shattered moon's light, he ignored Ruby's babbling and turned on Pyrrha. "Pyrrha, I beseech you, tell us what is bothering you."

The younger girl who had insisted on accompanying them looked between himself and the Mistral Champion with stark confusion.

"W-What? Nothing's wrong with me," Pyrrha insisted, "I'm perfectly fine. Splendid, even!"

Sibyl flatly rose a brow.

The redhead sighed, crossing her arms in a way to hug herself. "…is it that obvious?"

He nodded, never one to lie. "Your usually radiant self has been rather dim," He gestured to a bench after speaking, and the three settled down on it without much of a bother.

"Maybe you'll be able to help, Sibyl," Pyrrha conceded, squeezing the armrest of their new resting place. "It's Jaune," she began, voice sounding very tired, "He's been hanging out with Cardin more often, just completely ignoring me, not to mention Ren and Nora!"

Ruby gasped lightly, but Sibyl gave no verbal reaction. He was angry, however. Very angry.

"He's been friendly with that racist bigot?"

The redhead nodded lightly, and Sibyl considered it the last he'd hear. "If your partner has abandoned you for them, then perhaps you're better off without him."

She shook her head 'no' resolutely.

Ruby spoke up before Pyrrha could. "There's no way Jaune is hanging out with them over Pyrrha! There has to be more to it! Jaune's super nice; he'd never hang out with those type of people."

The other girl nodded in agreement, while Sibyl scoffed.

"People lie. People deceive. There is no shame in being tricked by them, but to defend them when they show their true selves?" He shook his head, turning his eyes to the sky. Pyrrha needed to be pushed, to truly understand, and while he hesitated to call her a close friend, he did admire her in much the same way he admired the sun. Seeing the girl make such foolish mistakes drove him mad.

"I once freed a man behind bars, and he assisted me not once, but twice with foes that, at the time, were far beyond my own strength. I thought him a friend; we spent more than a few moments conversing and laughing."

Sibyl clenched his fists, teeth grinding at just the memory of that bastard. "Then he murdered a mute woman in cold-blood." He heard two sharp intakes of breath but was too angry to care. "I found him. I hunted him down; I demanded an explanation from my once-friend."

Sibyl finally turned to look at Pyrrha, meeting her startled green eyes. "When he gave a poor one, I killed him without mercy."

She looked away, turning to stare at the ground opposed to his own single-eyed gaze. "I'd say you ought to do the same. Demand an answer from Jaune, and if he gives a poor one, throw the poor sheep into the den of wolves he decided to befriend."

Standing up, Sibyl decided he would take an actual stroll around the school before returning to his dorm. It would help to calm the nerves.

"…Sibyl killed a friend?" Ruby mumbled, suddenly remembering those two, beautiful weapons he'd shown her. He'd said one was laced with a deadly poison, but she'd mostly tuned that out. Now, it made a lot more sense. You didn't poison Grimm, definitely not an Ursa or Nevermore. You poisoned people.

Pyrrha nodded lightly. "It… it would seem so."

Did anyone else know? Killing people was illegal! There was always a better option; why didn't Sibyl just capture him, turn him in? He even said his friend had been behind bars when Sibyl freed him! Why was he freeing a prisoner? Did Yang know? Had Sibyl killed his friend with pyromancy? Was it meant for killing people and not Grimm?

Sure, his friend had been a murderer, but there were laws and stuff for a reason! You couldn't just kill people, definitely not in Vale-

Oh. Sibyl… Sibyl wasn't from Vale, was he? He wasn't even from Mistral or Atlas. No, he was from the Badlands, where things were different. That was what Qrow always told her and Yang, anyways. When he said he'd kill Cardin if he ever bullied another Faunus while Sibyl was around, had he meant that? Bullying was bad, but killing someone for it was way,way worse.

"…do you think he's right?" Pyrrha asked, not quite as stunned as Ruby was.

"What? No! Jaune's definitely not a bad guy. I do think you should go and talk to him, but… I don't know." Ruby sighed. Helping people was a lot harder than she used to think it was. Blake had told her that on the first day, too, but she'd mostly written it off.

"I think I'm going to stay here for a little bit. Why don't you head back to the room?"

Ruby hummed at the request. Pyrrha wanted some time alone, and Ruby wanted more time to think. In the end, she nodded. Giving a small goodbye, she started walking, a lot on her mind.

There were very few times Sibyl could recall being angry upon just seeing someone. It began and ended with Lautrec, but now, he was feeling the same with Jaune.

"Just who do you think you are?" Sibyl asked, tuning to stare at the blond screw-up who was standing outside his own dorm. The undead had finally finished his walk, and now, as he calmed down, he got to see the source of his anger.

"W-What?" The blond responded, taking a step back in fear at the tone.

"I did not stutter. Why are you so irresponsible? Simply tossing Pyrrha, your partner, aside, and for who? Those racist bigots?"

The blond looked down at the ground, refusing to make eye contact. That was the last straw; Sibyl stormed across the hall, grabbing him by the collar and pinning him up against the wall. "Answer me! You look away ashamed, yet refuse to speak!"

The boy struggled in vain against Sibyl's grip. The undead simply pushed him harder against the wall, bringing his face in close. "Answer. Me."

Jaune sighed softly, slumping. "I'm… I'm trying to deal with it. I don't want to hang out with Cardin – I hate him! But… but I have to, otherwise…" he swallowed a lump in his throat, and Sibyl felt his anger grow.

"Otherwise what?" The knight questioned with a hiss, "You do realize what you're doing nowhas consequences?"

The blond shook his head, muttering under his breath. "You don't get it!"

"I hardly want to get it, Jaune. You-"

"I'm sorry if I'm not as strong as you, or as cool, or anything like that!" Jaune exploded, finally daring to meet Sibyl's own eye, "I'm not talented like you, or even smart like Weiss! I'm not fit to be a leader; I didn't even want to be one! I'm sorry I can't just stand up to Cardin! You can't understand what it's like to fail all the time; you're freakin' amazing."

'Oh? That's it? What an idiotic way to think.'

The undead laughed, letting Jaune fall from his grip and collapse pitifully on the ground. He couldn't believe it; this absolute fool in front of him continued to surprise. It was in no way a good one.

Sibyl shook his head. "I was once like you, a talentless hack who was only fit to die. Then, circumstances demanded I change." He slowly leaned down, looking Jaune in the eyes. "Circumstances now demand you change. Either you rise to the occasion, or you continue to be a meek, weak-willed boy."

Words parted, Sibyl entered his dorm without a glance over the shoulder. Opposed to a mostly full room, everyone was gone save Yang, who laid asleep on his very own bed. Perhaps his walk had taken longer than he thought it did? Sighing lightly, Sibyl grabbed a blanket and threw it over the girl-wonder before moving over to one of the other bed-turned-couch. He was already in something comfortable, so he didn't bother to change out of it.

Instead, he sat down on one of the beds against the wall, staring at Yang who was snoring not so softly. Circumstances demanded change, indeed.

If there was one thing consistent in life, it was the way Yang Xiao Long woke up in the morning. Her violet eyes would slowly open, a hand reaching up to rub them. She'd promptly yawn, blink a few times to get her surroundings into focus, before promptly rolling back over and trying to ignore her responsibilities. It was a coin flip if she'd pull the covers up over her head.

Today, she did, and all was well for a few seconds before she realized they smelled… different. It was an aroma she had trouble placing, but eventually it hit her: it was the same, pleasantly-scented smell of ash which Fireball had around him. She'd asked him on it awhile back, and he said it was thanks to something he used to use all the time back in Lordran.

Why the hell did her blanket smell like Fireball? Sure, her and the team had been over in his dorm last night, but that wasn't a reason for her room to smell like… oh. Oh. Yang bit her lip, thinking hard on if she actually had returned to her room last night. After a moment, she realized that no, she couldn't remember going back to her dorm last night.

Sibyl's walk took a long time, so while everyone else left, she opted to stay and wait for him to get back. She wanted some help on the Combustion cast, so the blonde took a seat on his bed… and that was the last thing she remembered.

Slowly pulling down her covers, she sighed softly at seeing she was in his room. Nice. She had jacked her teacher's bed… right? Dismissing the possibility of that in the same instant she realized she was still fully dressed, Yang took a glance around the room, eyes adjusting to the light.

Forcing herself onto two feet, she didn't see Sibyl anywhere. Though, he did have some clothes laid out on the makeshift couches: his school uniform. Stretching, she spared a brief glance back at the bed she'd been laying on. It was an absolute mess… but Sibyl would probably be able to handle it.

As the bathroom door jiggled, Yang didn't really think much about turning to look. When her head finished turning, out walked Sibyl, towel draped around his waist. Except Yang didn't really notice that. No, she was left staring at… at a mess. She didn't even realize a gasp had left her until she finally breathed.

Sibyl, for his part, blinked in confusion at seeing her before his one-visible eye widened. Did he shower with his eyepatch on? No, that didn't even matter. Yang was busy studying the crisscrossing scars which covered damn near every visible inch of his body. They didn't make him look roguish or handsome, even if she could see all the muscles beneath them. No, the only thing Yang felt as she stared at him was shock. They were everywhere, from his arms to his stomach. Yang couldn't stop staring at one right at the center of his stomach, where it looked like something had impaled him.

How was he even alive? It shouldn't be possible. She saw another cut running diagonally down from his shoulder across his chest, almost as if he had been cleaved in half! She traced another scar which ran up his side with her eye; it ended right beneath chest-level.

"…I'm sorry," Sibyl began, looking away from her in shame, "I forgot you were here, in truth. I didn't mean to subject you to-"

Yang moved across the room, slapping her hand against his mouth and muffling whatever stupid words he was about to mutter.

"Don't apologize. Don't you dare." Slowly, she removed her hand, trying very hard to not let her eyes wander back down to the puzzle of cuts and slashes which was his bare chest.

"It's- well, eh…" He struggled to explain, mouth opening and closing several times before he just shook his head, moving to sit down on his screwed-up bed. Yang slowly sat down beside him, his state of undress mostly forgotten in favor of everything else she just realized.

"It's funny, ya' know," she began, laughing robotically, "I kept thinking how amazing you were, what with how you have pyromancy and sorcery, not to mention managing to beat Ruby without breaking a sweat." Yang paused, considering how to explain it. "I never really thought about the… how. How you got so good, I mean."

Sibyl moved to stand up, still shaking his head. "I'm getting dressed. No one should have to see this-"

Yang grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back down with as much force as she'd ever put into anything. "No. Sit down. I don't care; I don't care!" She was yelling, turning to face him and staring at that mystifying grey eye. Blinking away her own tears, Yang shook her head. "I don't care. I want to know about them."

He moved his head back in shock, tilting his head in that silly way of his. "…are you positive?"

She nodded at his question, swallowing a lump in her throat.

"Well… ask away," he answered, sighing softly as his own eye turned towards his body sadly.

She pointed to one of the scars on his back shoulder than ran diagonally across his back. "Ah, yes. I was inexperienced, then, and made the mistake of turning my back to a foe far stronger than I with a very big sword. Black Knights, we called them." He slowly reached around, touching the scar and running his finger along it as far as he could. "It wasn't very pleasant," he admitted, rubbing at his neck.

Yang nodded slowly, eyes scanning for another scar. She eventually settled on asking about some claw marks which began just above where his towel covered; she suspected it went down to his thigh.

"Three beasts, though I only thought there were two of them at the time," he explained, rubbing the back of his hand, "I slew one, was in the process of slaying the next, when it lunged from above, tearing through me."

Again: how was he alive?

"How did you survive?" She asked, not skeptical, but just… curious. He was clearly alive, after all, so he must have done something.

"I didn-" Sibyl paused, clearly thinking on a better way to explain his actions, "I did not think I would, but a cast of pyromancy managed to save me as they prepared to end my life."

She nodded, slowly. Pyromancy really was a life-saver, huh. Finally, her eyes were drawn to the one on his stomach. "And… and that one?" She asked, not even comfortable with the words leaving her own mouth.

Sibyl smiled grimly, shaking his head softly. "A knight, Ornstein, whom was just as swift as your sister when he wished to be, impaled me with his spear, lifting me off the ground and casting me aside as if some sort of bug,"he explained, and Yang blinked away more tears before they could form. "I was only just beginning to come into my own, to truly think I was worth something, and he humbled me without mercy."

He heard her unasked question, explaining how he survived quickly, "Solaire healed me thereafter with a miracle, making sure I wouldn't pass, but the scar would never go away."

Humming, Yang slowly reached a hand forward, tracing a finger along the terrible scar. Sibyl squirmed somewhat uncomfortably, but Yang wanted to make it clear she wasn't uncomfortable. Okay, no, she was uncomfortable, but not at the scars themselves. It was something deeper, and she couldn't think on how to describe it.

Still, she did her best. She knew some people didn't like their bodies, maybe because they were a bit overweight, but how would it feel to be like Sibyl? To have no way to fix it, not even the slightest bit of hope? The closest Yang could imagine was if she went bald thanks to some disease and had to wear a wig. She could hide it, keep her mind off it, but the truth would always be there, just underneath a thin layer of lies. In his case, it was clothes.

She became a Hunter because she wanted to go around the world and experience as many crazy adventures as she could. She was going here to train for it. Sibyl… Sibyl seemed to have just been thrust into some crazy, dangerous adventures. Would she have survived in his shoes?

"They're not pretty," she admitted, slowly removing her hand and turning her eyes up to his single one, "but Fireball, you almost make 'em look good."

He smiled, clearly happy for the change of subjects.

"Perhaps. Does it make me look more badass, as you might say?" He asked, eyebrow raised.

Yang laughed, somehow managing to make it sound convincing. "Fireball, if you would have walked into Junior's club shirtless, he would have pissed himself."

Sibyl laughed, and Yang did too, even if she didn't feel it. Then again, maybe he didn't, either.

As they sat at lunch, Sibyl tried to act normal. He tried and mostly succeeded, but he'd never be able to be normal. This morning with Yang had only cemented it. He was a freak, disgusting and repulsive even while under the guise of human. How in Gwyn's great name had he forgotten she was in his room!? He was an absolute fool.

The only real positive was he never removed the eyepatch on his face, even when showering. He feared what he'd find beneath it. Even without the Abyssal taint upon his eye visible, she had stared at him as if his body was an exhibit in ruins!

Her eyes roamed, counting the many scars – and deaths – which lined his body as a constant reminder of his mistakes. They were damn near uncountable, and the worst mistakes of his weren't even visible. The only good thing to come out of the entire day was meeting with Professor Port and getting the experienced Hunter to agree to letting Sibyl accompany him on his next venture out to capture Grimm.

Now he was forced to sit and eat a lunch with the people he dared to call companions, and the awkward silence was damn near suffocating.

"So," Ruby began, attempting to shatter the veil of silence which had overtaken the group, "Sibyl, what are you gonna' do tomorrow while we're on our field trip?"

Clearing his throat and swallowing the last of the food in his mouth, he spoke, "I'll be venturing into town. Glynda suggested it, and I'd like to do some research while-"

"Well, isn't that grand!" A voice announced from behind his back, and he barely had time to blink before the source of said voice sat beside him, inadvertently scooting Ren away from him. She was a pale girl with some glasses on, not to mention a beret and a few other accessories. "You're Sibyl, right?"

He nodded after a moment of hesitation.

"Great. Name's Coco. Been hearing rumors about 'ya', you know. They say you're the crazy guy who threatened to kill some first-year jock," she observed, and Sibyl internally groaned. If she came here to chastise him-

"I like that. A lot."

The undead blinked at her words, raising a single brow. "You see, that first-year jock was bullying my Faunus teammate. She's too well-mannered to deliver some ass-kicking herself, so when I heard another first year marched across the cafeteria, kicked that kid's ass along with his whole team by himself, topping it off by threatening to kill him again if he ever did anything like that again," she lowered her shades, revealing dark brown eyes, "I decided he deserved a date with yours truly."

'What in Izalith was a date?'

Coco pushed her shades back into place, smirking confidently. "The fact you're a real hunk is just the cherry on top."

As the table around him busted out in words and protest – mostly Yang – Sibyl's mouth opened to speak before he closed it. Trying again, he attempted to put his confusion into words. "…I'm quite confused. What is a 'date'?"

Coco stared at him for a few seconds.

"Are you serious?" She asked, and before he could even nod, someone else at the table had already spoken up.

"He is," Weiss confirmed, "Sibyl's not exactly from… well, anywhere we know, so some things might confuse him."

He wanted to rebuke the claim, but it was true. Everything confused him.

Coco shrugged. "That's fine. Not everyone can be the fullpackage, I guess. A date's when a guy and a girl decide to have a fun time together, usually to see if they've got enough in common to get together."

Ah, now Sibyl understood. "Oh, a romantic endeavor. I'm terribly sorry, but I must decline." Judging by the way Coco's mouth opened just slightly, she wasn't used to being told no. "I mean no offense. It's just I hardly know you, and I have something I must look into tomorrow. It is absolutely imperative I do so."

Coco shook away her dumbfounded expression, a confident smile reappearing. "Well, you're new to Vale, right?" He nodded at Coco's question. "Then I'll guide you around. No one knows the best shopping spots better than me. Besides, I just went the date thing because I figured you were some horny first-year who I could make take me out some place nice to eat. Instead, I found out you have standards."

She laughed, in a very distinct one at that. "Never would have guessed. Anyways: what do you say?"

Well… he didn't know Vale terribly well. Perhaps she would be of help?

"What, you don't think Sibyl can guide himself?" Yang interrupted before he could answer, her voice just a bit… off.

"Of course he could," Coco insisted, yet Sibyl wasn't as sure about his ability to navigate Vale as she was, "but isn't it just more fun with two people?" The odd girl paused, leaning across the table and lowering her glasses again. "Why? Is that a problem?"

Yang scoffed, crossing her arms and leaning back. "No way. Just making sure you're not going to use Sibyl as your ticket to an expensive meal." The girl, who up until now he would hardly classify as serious, finally became serious.

"No. As far as I'm concerned, what he did for Velvet means he can come to my team for anything. She would have just let it keep going on, but he stopped it before it became a real problem." Coco turned to stare at him, actually meeting his eyes seriously for once. "Thank you," she finished.

He waved off her words. "I enjoyed teaching those ignorant fools a lesson. A part of me even hopes they forget, so I might teach it again." And indeed, he would like little more than to slam one of them against the ground again. It would be a remarkably good stress reliever.

"Perfect! Well, I'll find you tomorrow them, hot stuff."

Just as quickly as she appeared, Coco disappeared. Sibyl shook his head slowly as she walked away, swagger in her hips.

"What an odd woman," he observed. Yang nodded in agreement, sniffing lightly.

"You can say that again, Fireball."

"No, not that one," Coco commented, more to herself than to Sibyl. "That grey eye of yours is really breathtaking, but it looks terrible with light colors. You need to wear something dark," she observed, and he nodded lightly in the hopes it would stop her from continuing on.

It didn't work.

"Maybe something red; I bet you'd look real nice in a maroon," she decided, giving him a scrutinizing gaze before muttering to herself a few things which made absolutely no sense to him, even if he heard most of it. This was what Sibyl had been dealing with for the past few hours.

True to her word, Coco had tracked him down that very morning, dressed and ready to hit the town. She had promptly saw what he was dressed in, scoffed, and said they were going to get him a new wardrobe. Why precisely he needed new wear was beyond him, but he knew better than to protest.

It was a lesson this land had done a remarkable job of teaching him. Women were not to be argued with, and it was better for everyone if he just went along before splintering off to do what he actually wanted to do. In this case, he decided to just let Coco dress him as if he was a doll, though there were some limits on what he'd allow.

"I don't think the overcoat look is bad on you, actually, just needs a bit more… color," she continued to explain, rubbing her chin as she stared at him. Turning back to the rack which had an assortment of shirts, she grabbed him a short-sleeved crimson one.

He shook his head. "The sleeves must be long," he demanded.

She raised an eyebrow, before shrugging. "Sure, sure, just go in and try these," she handed him some black trousers, a long sleeved maroon shirt, and a jacket before shoving him into a 'changing room'. Begrudgingly, he went through the process of getting dressed. It was something akin to an annoyance, being forced to do all of this, but he was just glad to be given an opportunity at near-privacy.

Besides, Coco and the field trip gave him more time to leave Yang alone. She had tried to put on a brave face for him, to act like his scars weren't repulsive and disgusting, but he knew. The gesture was appreciated nonetheless, since it let him know she was doing her best to be kind, but it was still… uncomfortable. She needed more time to process his grotesque form; he was sure of that.

Still, he had already tried on more than a dozen of Coco's outfits. He was about to put his foot down and be done with this charade. Taking a deep breath, he stepped outside the stall. She moved around him in a circle, like a beast did to prey, before nodding and snapping her fingers. "You know, I think I've figured it out."

He blinked, but whether she noticed or not, who knew. "I keep trying to give you a style, something distinct, but you are distinct." Well, that helped clear up absolutely nothing. Splendid. Seeing the look on his face, Coco elaborated. "I mean, you're a real looker, and that eyepatch makes you look intimidating. The curly, lightly tinted blue hair is a real eye-catcher, not to mention how well you fill out all of these," she counted each point with a finger on her hand.

"You are your style, so plain-but-good-looking is going to be ideal." She didn't waste a second to turn around and grab six or so pairs of clothes he had tried on – actually, where were the other six pairs he had tried on? Shaking his head, he followed Coco, absently reaching into one of his pockets and retrieving the many gold coins he had brought on this trip.

They were of no value in Lordran, but he had found a lot of them and just decided to keep them in case. Stepping in front of the beret-wearing woman, he laid a few coins down, unsure on just how much all this was going to cost. When the gold coins were set on the counter and his hand uncovered them, both the girl behind the counter and Coco were quiet.

"What. The. Hell?" Coco asked, voice flat in shock.

…oh, great. He had done something odd again. Sighing lightly, Sibyl ran a hand through his hair. All he wanted was to finish this damnable trip and go to a bookstore!

"Yang's acting weird," Ruby began, having called both Weiss and Blake in close while Yang finished blow-drying her hair in the bathroom.

Weiss resisted the urge to scoff at the words; the heiress had only known Yang for a short period, and it was still very obvious Yang was distraught. "And?" Weiss asked, curious on why they were having a team meeting on this. "You're her sister, Ruby. You should handle it yourself." Really, maybe it was just a cultural difference, but Weiss couldn't understand for the life of her why Ruby seemed to expect them to stick their noses into Yang's personal business.

"No!" The younger sister declared, stomping her foot like a child, "We're a team, Weiss! That means if anyone has a problem, it's all of our problems!"

When Blake nodded, Weiss acknowledged she was outnumbered in this, since she assumed Yang's vote didn't count. Fine, so it was the whole team's problem.

"Okay. Continue," The white-haired girl remarked, crossing her arms. It made some degree of sense, at least. They were part of a team, so it stood to reason Yang's issues could affect all of them.

Ruby nodded, opening her mouth. "Right. So, Yang's acting weird, and I've never seen her act like this except when she was fourteen and some guy stood her up on a date," she paused, squinting. "No, even then, she was just mad. Oh, God, what's wrong with Yang? Is it me? Is she mad at me? Did I do-"

"Ruby, calm down" Blake commented, interrupting the girl before she could delve any further into her own insane ramblings.

The girl in question did so after taking a deep breath. Restarting, Ruby spoke, "Right. So, Yang: acting weird. What do we do?"

Weiss palmed her face, dragging her hand down. How did Ruby get picked as a leader, again? She didn't even know what to do when her own sister started acting strangely. Calming herself down before she exploded, Weiss decided to answer this rationally. Someone on this team had to be rational.

"It's simple, Ruby. We ask her what's wrong."

"What's wrong with who?" Yang asked, finally having stepped out of the shower. Weiss froze lightly, as did Ruby, but Blake didn't.

"You. You've been acting strange since yesterday," the bow-wearer observed, careful to keep her voice in check, "and we're concerned."

Ruby nodded in agreement before adding on her own words, "Yeah. Please, Yang! Tell us what's wrong. We're all worried about you." She paused, considering her words carefully. "Well, me and Blake are worried about you!"

Weiss huffed, crossing her arms. It wasn't that she wasn't concerned! She was, it's just it wasn't any of her business, and she saw no reason to make it hers. But that was out of her hands now; she wasn't going to be painted as a villain in this situation. "I was concerned, but I didn't want to involve myself. Ruby has thrown all of that out the window, so… spill."

"I don't know what you're even talking about," Yang dismissed, messing with her hair absently.

It was all the evidence Ruby needed to pounce.

"Aha! It's too late, Yang. You started playing with your hair. Something is wrong!" Pointing a finger in Yang's face, Ruby held it for a moment before faltering. "Please?"

The older sister held tough, waving away their worries with her hand. "Listen, I'm fine. Really! I've just been, uh… thinking about some things."

Weis scoffed, rolling her eyes. That was perhaps the most unconvincing thing anyone had ever said.

"If you don't want to tell us, fine, but don't lie," Weiss hissed, and the blond looked a bit crossed for a moment before sighing.

"It's… well, it's about Sibyl," Yang admitted, messing with her hair again and biting her lip. She really did have an obvious call when nervous. As everyone leaned in to hear more, Yang elaborated. "Well, you know how I fell asleep in his room two days ago?"

"He didn't do something, did he?" Blake questioned, face forming a scowl opposed to her more passive look.

Yang's features changed from unsure to completely shocked. "W-What?! No, no! He just threw some covers on me when I fell asleep, nothing like that."

Blake slowly flattened her expression after Yang's words.

Shaking her head, the golden brawler sighed. "It's… I don't even know if I should share?"

When all three of them stared expectantly, she shrugged. "Alright, fine. Sibyl, he's… he's got a lot of scars. I mean, his freakin' torso was more scars than skin."

Weiss wasn't sure what to say, so she didn't say anything at all.

"And he was so ashamed about it! Repulsed about it, and he kept apologizing to me for accidently seeing it!" The blonde clenched her fists, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before relaxing. "He told me about them, about fighting all these people and creatures. Some knight impaled him on a damn spear, right through the stomach!" Yang exclaimed, and it was akin to a slap in the face for Weiss.

Sibyl had been impaled?

"It's…" Yang frowned, trying to figure out how to describe it. "It's like what I've always wanted to do. Wild adventures, fights all the time, helping people... I just never imagined it could end up like that."

As Yang finished her small rant, Ruby cleared her throat and the attention shifted promptly. "He… he told me and Pyrrha someone he thought was a friend killed a mute woman in cold blood."

Weiss gasped, eyes widening lightly. Ruby's usual expressive self was much more… dead as she described what happened next.

"Then, he said he hunted him down and killed him. His former friend!" The younger girl hugged herself lightly, humming sadly. "What if we had to do that? What if, I don't know, Jaune or someone turned out to be a murderer? Would we have to kill him? Are we going to have to kill people to be Huntresses?"

They were silent for a moment as they considered the question. It wasn't unthinkable they'd have to kill people in the future. Being a Huntress was more than just fighting Grimm, and Weiss had realized that long before she decided on being a Huntress.

Blake breathed softly before speaking, "No. We won't have to kill anyone. Sibyl's comes from the Badlands, and we can assume they hardly have laws or jails out there. He… It's not nice, but he was probably just doing the best he could to stop a deadly criminal."

Weiss nodded absently, before adding her own two cents, "Regardless of Sibyl's past actions, what matters is now. When introduced to laws and regulations, he hasn't acted on it. I'm inclined to agree with Blake; he was probably one of the few sources of justice, no matter how convoluted, the Badlands had."

"I don't care about any of that," Yang muttered, rubbing her arm, "Fireball's a good guy; we all know that. Why the hell did it have to be him?"

It was as good a question as it was pointless, and Weiss had no reservations about saying so.

"It doesn't matter. If Sibyl hadn't experienced what he did, he wouldn't be who we know today. Character is forged in dire circumstances, after all." No one knew who they truly were until the odds were stacked against them, and Sibyl seemed like someone who had only ever known such terrible odds.

"I know!" Yang declared, and her Semblance had even begun to make her hair glow, "I just want Sibyl to know he isn't some sort of damn freak because of a few scars! He was absolutely disgusted by them!" As Yang sighed lightly, her hair lost its glow. "…I was too. I still am. Maybe that's why I'm so upset?"

The confused blonde sat down, resting her head in her palms and elbows on her knees.

"Well," Ruby began, slowly scooting closer to her sister, "tell him that." As Yang blinked, her younger sister elaborated, "Just tell him you're sorry for reacting like you did! Don't lie and say his scars are fine, because it's not fine. No one should have to have gone through what he did!"

"You weren't disgusted because of how they looked, right?" Yang hesitantly nodded, and Ruby finally sat down next to her sister as she continued, "You were upset because they were there, and that means he had to go through it all."

Yang smiled sadly, pulling her sister in for a close hug. "Thanks, Ruby. You're pretty wise when you want to be, eh?"

Weiss was forced to admit; their leader had sounded wise.

Tuckson lived a simple life these days. The White Fang was mostly off his back, just using his shop as a storage place for dust and a few other things. It was a far cry from his youth, when he'd been so enamored with the 'revolution' to not realize what a crapshoot it was. Of course, once you joined the White Fang, you never really got out. It's why he still allowed them to use his shop.

What a load of garbage. They'd kill him in a heartbeat if he stopped letting them use it. Hell, they might even kill him regardless; that's why he was packing up and getting out of town, pronto. Mistral was supposed to be nice all year long, right? It sure sounded a whole lot better than Vale. Until he was able to leave, though, he'd keep doing what he always did.

Manage his shop. Meet White Fang agents when they entered his store and wonder if it'd be the end of his life or not. It really wasn't that bad, really, except the fear and paranoia. He made decent money, had a few, solid regulars, and it was just… so peaceful compared to what he was used to. Refreshingly peaceful.

The Faunus looked up from the magazine he was reading when he heard the door open. Glancing up, his mouth was already moving with his catchphrase. "Welcome to Tuckson's Book trade, home to every book under the sun."

"Excellent to hear," a relatively deep, masculine voice responded.

Tuckson blinked after getting a good look at the young man. He probably wasn't much older than those Hunters and Huntresses in training at Beacon, but he sure as hell didn't look it. Tall, muscular, and with an eyepatch over one of his eyes.

"I'm looking for books on old legends and myths," his new customer spoke, and Tuckson took a step out from behind the counter to guide him to the appropriate part of the store. It wasn't that uncommon of a request, especially from students at Beacon. That headmaster of theirs must have had a thing for old legends and myths or something, because the number of times a student came in and said they had a research paper due on one was obscene.

"Yeah, sure thing, kid. Got anything in particular?"

One-Eye hummed lightly, before speaking, "Lordran. I'm looking for books on a place called Lordran."

Tuclson cursed internally as he heard the word. It was familiar, but damned if he could tell from where or what. "Well, kid, it rings a bell, but I can't say off the top of my head I remember much about it."

Frowning, the kid nonetheless thanked him. "Well, you're the first to at least have claimed to have heard of it; I was beginning to think myself mad!"

Tuckson chuckled, slowing to a stop and gesturing at the bookshelf in front of them. It wasn't a lot, but it was everything he had on old myths and legends.

A mismatch of a history and fantasy section, really. Giving the kid a small nod before turning back to his counter, Tuckson moved to sit back down. After about five seconds, he realized couldn't go back to reading his magazine. Something about that word, 'Lordran', had him off balance. Humming, Tuckson stood right back up out of his seat and moved to the back of the store.

"I'll be in the back, kid. If you need anything, just holler." Words parted, he closed the door behind him and moved over to his personal desk. Opening one of the bottom drawers, he pulled out a regular-looking notebook. Inside of it, however, it was anything but normal. The middle section of it was cut out, leaving room for letters.

It was one of the White Fang's older methods of getting messages around, but hey, it worked. The White Fang always kept things vague; it was how they survived and avoided infiltration. Lower members were given lists of words, and each of them had a hidden meaning the higher-ups knew. It varied between ranks; there were some secrets only Fang council members knew.

If you were a rookie in the Fang, you might get a letter which masqueraded as a letter from a family friend. The first letter of every paragraph, then the third letter of every other sentence would help form priority words. It was an easy sequence to remember, and usually, the letters didn't include anything severe.

Tuckson scanned the many letters he had collected over the years, giving each one a brief onceover before he finally read one which had the word he was looking for.

'Lordran – If any non-Fang members mentions this, human or otherwise, be the word written or spoken, it is to be reported immediately to an officer. Priority level – 10.'

It was dated three years ago, and Tuckson swallowed a lump in his throat. He had to report this, then. If they found out, they'd gut him like a damn fish and then feed him to the fish.

Putting the letters back in place and returning his notebook to its drawer, he took a step outside and spoke words he dreaded. "Hey, kid, what's your name?"