Interlude 1

The desolate shards of Remnant's shattered moon had risen hours ago by the time an exhausted General Ironwood was allowed to sink into his office chair for the first time that day. Not that he would ever admit to anybody he was tired, but he had to privately admit that the workload was taking a toll on him. The new project to develop subterranean farms in Mountain Glenn's winding tunnels may have been necessary to bolster Vale's dwindling food supplies, but Oum was it a lot of hassle. The fact that Jacques Schnee, miserable skinflint that he was, wouldn't quit submitting formal complaints about the cost was only making his job harder.

Realistically, adding a little girl in the form of Pyrrha onto his plate may have been a foolish idea, but who else could he trust to do it? Not when so many hopes were riding on her. If she could do what he thought she could… well, no sacrifice would be too small.

A firm rap on his door broke Ironwood out of his reverie. He fought to suppress a groan. Please, let it not be a council member. If he didn't have to see any of their cursed faces for the next week, it still wouldn't be enough.

"Come in," he called, drawing on every scrap of energy left in his once-bountiful reserves to draw himself upright. When the door opened to reveal a youthful face with dark red-brown hair shaved into a military cut, he almost let loose a sigh of relief.

"Morrison," he nodded in greeting. "How can I help you?" Despite his short time as a captain in the peacekeepers, Burgundy Morrison was rapidly proving himself to be one of the most promising recruits of the past few years. His dogged loyalty, quick mind, and natural charisma propelled him through a fast track of promotions and successes, and Ironwood had picked the younger man up as a protégé without hesitation.

After a respectful, snappy salute, Burgundy dropped a stack of papers on his deck. "Just wanted to drop my report off, sir. Figured that if you wanted it in hard copy instead of over your scroll it would be better to secure it in person."

Smart kid. This was why Ironwood liked having him around. "Good thinking. Thank you. This is for Mountain Glenn, I assume?" He didn't need to elaborate. Burgundy would know what he was talking about.

"Yessir. I have little else to report. The date between the two Arcs went more or less as expected, other than a minor act of insubordination. We may have pushed them a little too hard. I'll take care of it, so I saw no need to bother you with the details."

"I trust your judgement." Ironwood pulled the stack of papers towards him before flipping through the first few pages. He'd take more time to read it in depth later. Maybe tomorrow, if he was lucky, but for now, there were a few questions he wanted answered now. "Good work. Get some rest. It's late."

When the younger man hesitated for just a moment, Ironwood snapped his gaze onto him, putting his perusal of the report on hold. "Something's bothering you." It wasn't a question.

"It's… it's not really a big deal, sir."

"I'll be the judge of that." Ironwood motioned to the chair across from him, and Burgundy took a seat obediently. "Tell me."

"The Grimm hit Farm 33 today," Burgundy explained after another moment of hesitation. Ironwood frowned. Farm 33 was one of Mountain Glenn's most recently developed subterranean farms. Any damage to it would hurt, but they had all expected the new farms to be pressured by the Grimm, before the military had the chance to fortify them. An attack wasn't particularly cause for concern. Something else was bothering his protégé.

"I had a squad of peacekeepers on hand," Burgundy continued, "along with a pair of hunters, and the raid was only a few beowolves. We repelled them easily, but four workers were already dead."

He fell silent, eyes fixated on the fists he had clenched on Ironwood's desk. The general gave him a moment to regain his composure.

"But even after we forced the Grimm back, two other workers couldn't… get it together. We pulled the rest of their team away from the scene, and then… put them down. I did it myself. Didn't want it to weigh on my team. As per procedure, we made sure the news won't spread."

Get it together. Everybody reacted differently to the wake of a Grimm attack. Some people couldn't handle the pressure, the mere presence of humanity's nightmares driving them to the brink of insanity. They were dealt with immediately. It was a harsh reality. Panic – no, all negativity – drew the Grimm in greater hordes, and anybody who couldn't reign in their emotions was a threat to themselves and others. That didn't make the task of forcibly calming them any more pleasant. The rest of the construction crew would be rotated deeper into Vale, where the Grimm wouldn't be able to sense them, but the peacekeepers wouldn't be able to forget. They would just have to deal with it.

Well, now he knew what the problem was.

"Your first time?" The general asked. Burgundy had seen death, and a lot of it, that much was certain. The peacekeepers were Vale's secret police, their specialized black ops division, but were also some of the best auraless fighters out there. Farm 33 was far from the young captain's first contact with the Grimm. But there was a big difference between watching someone die and doing the deed yourself.

"Yessir." Burgundy rose to his feet before firing off another salute. "Sorry to bother you, sir. I'll deal with my personal issues. Good night. Get some rest yourself, if you can."

"Morrison," Ironwood called out when the younger man was halfway out the door. "You did what you had to. Remember that."

The younger man paused in the doorway, then dipped his head in a respectful nod. "Yessir. Thank you, sir. Good night."

::-::-::

It felt like it was only a few minutes before another knock startled Ironwood to alertness. A quick glance at his scroll, however, revealed that it had been almost half an hour since Burgundy's departure. He must have dozed off.

"Come in," he called for the second time that night. This time, a different favored subordinate of his entered the room. "Schnee. Good evening." Well, more like good early-morning, but that came down to semantics. Why was she here? He hadn't expected her until tomorrow.

Winter Schnee saluted, sharp blue-grey eyes roaming his office. She raised a quizzical eyebrow. Even though she said nothing, her expression spoke volumes. Are we alone?

Ironwood clicked a button under his desk. It was no secret that a few members of the Council didn't trust him. So far, he hadn't had any cameras installed to spy on him, but he would put a lot of lien down that there were audio bugs in his office. The button was linked to a device that fed them a misleading audio clip that would play a fabricated conversation; far more subtle than outright jamming the bugs, but still able to hide anything he wanted to keep from prying ears. He wasn't fully aware of how the tech worked, but Doctor Polendina assured him it did, and the brilliant scientist hadn't failed him yet.

"Speak fast," he told the severe woman in front of him. "And don't worry about formalities. I can't mask our conversation long, or certain people will start asking questions."

Winter nodded in understanding before cutting straight to business. She preferred that, anyways. "As you suggested, I visited the archives today. None of the usual search parameters gave me anything conclusive. Not until I entered 'silver eyes.' All the sources were ancient, but what came up was… surprisingly consistent." She shoved yet another document across his desk. "if this is a lie, we're looking at the most comprehensive fabrication in Remnant's history."

Ironwood took the offered papers, but unlike Burgundy's report, scrutinized them carefully. Line after line of notes flowed across the pages in Winter's orderly script, the two words at the top of the page forming a title that set his weary heart racing.

The Maidens.

"Looks like this might not be a mere fairy tale after all," he muttered, more to himself than to Winter. She picked up on it anyways.

"It's consistent with our observations of Ruby and Pyrrha. The maidens' aura strength was supposedly unmatched, and all of them received their powers immediately following disasters."

"And both of our prospects were off the charts. The machines couldn't even measure their aura," Ironwood finished. "It's not certain, but we've got a strong case for this myth having some truth to it." He glanced at his scroll again. "Good work. I need to end our cover. Keep researching, and keep me updated."

"Sir," Winter barked with another salute, and then she rushed out of the office, taking care to close the door behind her. Once she was gone, Ironwood flicked the sound screen off, before letting loose a sigh. He really didn't want Winter's notes to fall into the wrong hands… and that meant memorizing and then destroying them as soon as possible.

Looked like he wasn't getting any sleep tonight.

::-::-::

A sharp rap on his door roused Ozpin from where he lay dozing in his office chair. How long had he been out? Long enough for the once-steaming cup of coffee by his hand to go cold, apparently.

The rap sounded once again, more urgently this time. Beacon's headmaster rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before donning his trademark spectacles. When was the last time he had been so exhausted he had fallen asleep at his desk? Years, probably. And who else would be up at this hour?

"Come in," he called. The door creaked open.

"Headmaster," Glynda stepped into the room, usual strict uniform discarded in favor of the loose shirt and pants she preferred for sleep. "You're still awake? I was surprised to find you out of bed at this time."

"Awake in a manner of speaking, I suppose. The same goes for you. Why are you up?"

"A little bird had some interesting things to say to us, or so he claims." She pulled the door open wider and called to somebody in the hall, out of Ozpin's sight. "You might as well come in. You're going to have to talk to him sooner or later."

When the half-drunk form of Qrow Branwen stumbled into his office, Ozpin found he wasn't surprised in the slightest.

"Hey, Oz," the dark haired man slurred. "Been a while. Or at least a few days. I lost track."

"Indeed," Ozpin responded with careful neutrality. "I was expecting an update on your mission several days ago."

Qrow shrugged, utterly unrepentant in the face of Ozpin's subtle chastising. "Yeah, well, more important things came up. Family stuff. You know how it is."

The headmaster's carefully crafted control sharpened into a pensive frown in an instant. "Family stuff? Raven's back? I thought you hadn't seen her for years." If she had suddenly appeared again… well, that would be problematic for multiple reasons.

"Who said it was Raven?" The drunk act fell away from Qrow, matching Ozpin's own dramatic change in demeanor, replaced by tightly wound poise and unmatched cynicism.

"Isn't she your only remaining family? Or is this your way of telling me you have family I'm not aware of?" Ozpin replied, the undaunted fortress in the face of Qrow's antagonism. "And if you are, then why have I not heard of this before?"

"Because believe it or not, you don't need to know everything, Oz."

"No, but this falls well within what I should. You know the danger we're in, what we stand to lose. Please. Anything you can tell me could be important. Don't play games with me. Who – is – it?" Ozpin asked, each of the last three drawn out words packed to the brim with unspoken meaning. The headmaster did not make threats. They were beneath him, the foolish play of hot blooded children. But Qrow knew they were there.

Thing was, he didn't really care.

"If I ever think you need to know, I'll tell you. Unfortunately, right now, I don't," he drawled. To the casual observer, Ozpin took the flippant dismissal in stride, but Qrow's peerless eyes picked out how the older man's hand unconsciously tightened around his favored coffee mug.

"Qrow," Ozpin said. "I am aware that your trust in me has been… strained, in the past, but–"

"Strained?" Qrow interrupted, voice dripping with false sincerity. "Oh, no, not strained at all." With every word, he grew even more agitated, until he was spitting years of pent up resentment with every syllable. "You see, strained sounds like you did something I didn't expect, but I've come to completely trust that you will do whatever you think is best. Problem is, that usually involves hurting people that I like. So you'll have to forgive me if I'm not huge on the whole chummy-chummy thing. Maybe you forgot, but half of my team is kinda dead."

"Taiyang and Summer died as heroes–"

"Taiyang and Summer died as pawns!" Qrow roared, slamming a hand on Ozpin's desk with a reverberating thud to emphasize his point. "The Council screwed them on that mission, you know they did, and you let it happen!"

"There's a limit to what I can do," Ozpin fired back, tightly controlled calm finally unraveling. The words rushed out of mouth like water from a leak, but he couldn't stop himself. This confrontation with Qrow… it had been an inevitability for a long, long time. All it needed was a spark. "I was as fond of Taiyang and Summer as anybody else, but going against the rest of the Council is well outside my power. I'm not a god, Qrow! I can't do everything." How he wish he could. Then maybe the nightmares would stop and the regret of everything that could have been would cease its haunting cry in the dark recesses of his mind. Power – authority – was not something he would wish on anyone.

Deep down, Qrow probably knew that. But he was exhausted, they were all exhausted, the accumulated stress of weeks and weeks propelling them to say things they never normally would have, not even about resentment that had been steeping for years. "Yeah? Then maybe you should stop trying to act like one."

"Qrow! Headmaster!" Glynda cut in, severing the conflict with the ferocity of her cry. "Please. We have more important things to discuss: namely, the reason I dragged Qrow out here. Afterwards, by all means resolve your issues. In a mature fashion, not squabbling like children."

Although she was unable to completely diffuse the tension, the two men tacitly withdrew from their conflict.

"I've kept everything relevant to your goals in my reports," Qrow said. It was as close to an apology as he was going to give. "Didn't leave anything important out. Just personal stuff. I promise."

Ozpin wasn't naive enough to believe that, but Qrow had proven to be a good man over the years, more or less, and so he was willing to offer the olive branch. Even if it wasn't entirely true. "I see. For what it's worth, Qrow, I trust you."

"Most of the time, at least?" the dark hair man scoffed, but his sarcasm was self-directed. "Alright, let's get to the point. I found something you definitely want to take a look at. Or hear, anyways. It's a sound clip."

He tossed his scroll across the desk, where Ozpin smoothly scooped it up. "Is this related to your mission?"

"Nah. Still working on that one. This is from our favorite tin-man."

Ozpin frowned, clearly unhappy with his subordinate's disrespect for Ironwood, but chose not to comment further. "What is it?"

"A gift from his office."

"From the bugs you planted, you mean?"

Qrow shrugged, unperturbed by the subtle chastisement. "Mostly, yeah."

"You know I don't approve of those," Ozpin pressed, disapproval only growing more pronounced.

"Hey, don't blame me. Glynda put them there. I just happen to use them."

"Thank you for your support, Qrow," Glynda commented drily. "I'll be sure to remember the next time you're in trouble."

"Just layin' out the facts, ma'am."

"I consider both of you equally at fault," Ozpin sighed, "so there's no need to blame one another. Qrow, the presence of bugs by no means justifies the fact that you use them. Ironwood is a critical ally, and–"

Qrow rolled his eyes, cutting off the rest of the lecture. "Spare me the crap, Oz. You're well aware that even if you're working with them, spying on everyone else is just part of the game, unless you want to end with a knife in your back. No point in complaining about it. I guarantee he's doing the same with us." He glanced idly among the loaded bookshelves. "Speaking of which, this room is clean, right? Could get kinda awkward otherwise."

"Don't worry, Qrow. I wouldn't speak with you anywhere discretion was necessary." Ozpin quipped. He was rewarded with a rare smile from Glynda. That was one of the few traits all of them shared, nowadays. Smiles were sparse, humor even more so. "But much as I wish I could deny it, you're not entirely wrong. What is it that the peacekeepers love to say? Trust, but verify?" His thumb came down on the holographic surface of Qrow's scroll. "Let's hear what you've uncovered, then."

Ironwood's voice crackled to life, clear as if he had been in the room himself, and Qrow let out an admiring whistle.

"You got some nice ears, Glynda."

"Shush. Not now."

"Schnee. How can I help you?"

Another voice joined Ironwood's: a woman's, sharp, clear, and clipped. "I'm here to report on my inspection, general, as you requested. Permission to summarize?"

Ozpin frowned. A man of Ironwood's status, receiving something as detailed as an inspection report? It wasn't impossible… but it definitely wasn't -standard procedure, and if nothing else Ironwood loved procedure.

"Granted."

"Vitality is recovering well from last week's attack, sir. Food production has stabilized, and all but one of the farms should be fully operational with ten days. The White Fang is still working to completely secure the dust mines. We should expect supply to fluctuate until they clean the tunnels out."

"That's worrying, given the current state of the dust supply."

"You may need to reroute more troops, if you want the mines secured faster."

"I have few to spare… but the dust situation is critical. I'll consider it. Thank you for your report, Schnee. Dismissed."

At first glance, there was nothing wrong with the message. Vitality was a Council controlled moderately sized town that primarily exported food and dust to Vale, and although he didn't know all the details, Ozpin was aware that they'd suffered from recent Grimm attacks.

"Clever," Qrow commented as soon as the recording ended. "Very clever. Just enough truth mixed in to sell the lie."

"There were some oddities," Ozpin acknowledged, "but outright calling it a lie may be rushing to conclusions."

"Nah. It's a lie."

"I'm getting tired of your games, Qrow," Glynda growled through clenched teeth, "so kindly explain yourself."

"Alright, alright. First, the true part. The White Fang are in fact currently stationed in Vitality, or at least a substantial portion of them, and there's a lot of repair being done on the farms. The dust situation is actually even worse than the good general supposedly says. Stocks are at an all time low, and it can't just be explained by the demands of the Vytal festival. Somebody really wants dust, and a lot of it at that."

"The Vytal festival is certainly a demanding event, but we've stockpiled enough that it shouldn't be depleting our stocks. There might be something else we need to investigate," Ozpin murmured. No, that's something we definitely need to investigate. I'm on the council. Why have I not heard of this until now?

Qrow shrugged. "Probably."

"Wait, that's the entire message," Glynda interrupted, brow furrowed in concentration. "White Fang, food, and dust. Where's the lie?"

"It's not in the message content. It's in who he's supposedly talking to."

"Schnee," Ozpin finished. "Since it's obviously not our student, I assume it's a relative? A sister or cousin, perhaps?"

"Sister," Qrow confirmed. "I recognize that voice. Winter Schnee… we go way back. Heh, probably too far for either of our preferences."

"And you think it's odd that a Schnee would lower herself to working for Ironwood?" Glynda guessed.

"Nah. She's kind of a fanatic. It's totally something she would do."

"So what's the problem, then?" Glynda cried in exasperation. "And for the love of Oum please get to the point."

"Winter wasn't at Vitality," Qrow stated bluntly. "That message is nonsense."

"How do you know that?" Ozpin asked.

"Because I was there myself."

The headmaster nodded, as if it had been the answer he expected, but the slight frown he wore made it clear it wasn't the answer he wanted. "Vitality? That's outside Vale's walls. What were you doing there?"

"I told you," Qrow said, all cheek and no shame. "Personal reasons."

"Qrow…" Ozpin sighed.

"Fine, fine." The dark haired man conceded. "I was just making sure the mail got delivered. People there needed a lot of help."

"Well, that's awfully kind hearted of you," Glynda probed. "But is the mail really that important in the wake of a Grimm attack?"

"It was a bit of a specialty delivery, I guess you could say. I had my reasons."

Ozpin kept his face neutral, but his mind whirred with the intensity of a hundred clocks. Qrow was always something of an enigma, but his unmatched talent as an operative had made him indispensable… until now, at least. Secrets upon secrets – how much was he hiding? Ozpin couldn't afford to be doubting his allies. Not now, when the Council was primed like a dust arsenal and Grimm assaults were hammering Vale's food and dust supplies like they were being directed. He would love to assign someone to watch over his mysterious subordinate, but who? Qrow was brilliant, and Ozpin couldn't imagine that any attempts to investigate him would be undiscovered. Or taken well.

When had everything gone wrong? When had the awkward, doggedly loyal student that had once been grown into a cynical shadow of a man? What had happened to the younger man that had once been – dare he say it? A friend.

You know what happened.

Glynda took an unconscious step forward, ready to press Qrow for more answers, but Ozpin stopped her. "Glynda. His reasons for being there are not important." Actually, they were, and very important at that, but now was not the time. Not with everything as tense as it was. "Let us return to the task at hand. I'm still not certain this message is a lie, Qrow, whatever you mean by that."

"Your suspicions rest on the fact that Winter wasn't at Vitality," Glynda mused, "but she didn't have to be. Couldn't a subordinate have reported to her, and she was ferrying the details to James?"

Qrow shook his head. "Might be possible, except she doesn't have subordinates. Ironwood keeps her hidden as much as he can. She's kinda like me, actually."

"You seem to know quite a bit about Winter Schnee," Ozpin commented.

"I like to keep tabs on my enemies. The worse they are, the more I watch them."

"I'm still not sure what the point of all this is," Glynda said. "Even if the message is fabricated, for which we only have your word, what does it tell us? That James is doing what he can to misdirect us? That's hardly groundbreaking news."

"And yet he's allowed us to snoop on so many other conversations. There's something that specifically Winter's doing that he wants hidden. The whole thing reeks."

"If it's a fabricated message," Ozpin protested, "it could easily have been somebody else he was speaking to, and they just changed the voice."

"Nah. Too complicated. It was her. I'd bet my life on it."

"Qrow…" Glynda piped up hesitantly. "I mean no offense, but this whole thing sounds like a lot of guesswork and suspicion, and even if it's all true, there's not a course of action we can pursue."

"You want a course of action? Fine. Here's mine: I'm going to wring every secret she has out of her. No matter how long it takes me. There's something huge going on. You call it guesswork? I call it instinct."

"Your instinct is impeccable," Ozpin declared, "but I can't officially authorize anything with more substantial proof. Do what you want, but on your own time."

Qrow shrugged. "Was planning on doing that anyways."

"And please – be very, very careful. The absolute last thing we need is conflict with the Schnee family, especially with their ties to James."

"Same goes for you," Qrow warned. "You have a Schnee for a student, right?"

Glynda nodded in confirmation. "Yes. Weiss Schnee."

"Watch her," Qrow stated bluntly. "I don't trust her."

Glynda rolled her eyes. "You don't trust anyone."

"And for good reason."

"That's enough for now," Ozpin ordered. "Qrow, you are right to be suspicious, but until you bring me something more substantial I can't offer you anything." He waved vaguely towards the door. "Inform me if the situation changes. I have more work to finish by tomorrow, so both of you, please leave me for now."

He still needed an update on the mission he had assigned to Qrow, but now that the perpetually drunk spymaster was back, it could wait for another time. For now, he had some research to do. After all, the Council was considering a revision of The Report's process, and since it fell under her jurisdiction, Councilwoman Salem had requested a meeting with him to finalize the proposal.

And it wouldn't do to meet her unprepared. Not at all.

A/N:

Merry (belated) Christmas everyone!

Thanks to some very sensible criticism from both IRL friends and reviewers, I went back and substantially modified the end of chapter six, parts of seven, and the argument in eight, with the goal of bringing Ironwood more in line with his canon character and making Jaune feel more consistent/less bipolar or whatever. There's no need to reread it if you don't want to, since there aren't any new plot elements, but it is important to know that Ironwood's portrayal changed drastically.

Part 2 of the first interlude is coming out in the (hopefully near) future. Originally, I was going to post it all as one chapter, but I realized that there was just too much going on, so I split it into two parts.