I am a painfully slow writer. I can literally spend hours in a single day just checking and editing half a chapter.
"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing"
Edmund Burke
Chapter Twenty-One—Friends in High Places
"Let me get this straight," said Weiss Schnee. "Arc disappears for weeks with zero contact and no goodbye. Suddenly, out of the blue he calls you and tells you that Vale is under attack from a Grimm woman of all things. Then, on top of all that, he asks you specifically to go out and try to defend the entire city from not only an alleged attack from the best military in all of Remnant, but also from some vague assault known only as 'the Breach'?"
Pyrrha grimaced. When you put it like that… "That is what he said, yes," answered Ren.
"And you're going to just believe him without any evidence whatsoever?"
The two teams, RWBY and what was left of JNPR, were sitting across from one another in team RWBY's dorm, each team occupying the lower bed of each bunk. How the bunk beds were even still standing, let alone safe enough to sleep in, Pyrrha had no idea as she stole yet another furtive glance upwards, convinced this time that the upper bunk had shifted above her and was about to come crashing down any moment now.
"Of course!" exclaimed Nora. "It's Jauney. He wouldn't lie to us!"
"Maybe not," accepted Blake. "But Jaune hasn't always been the most dependable source of information before."
"Yeah," agreed Yang. "No offense, but vomit boy really doesn't strike me as the reliable type. He probably just misunderstood the transmission he received."
Pyrrha sighed through her nose. They'd gone over to their neighbour's dorm as soon as Jaune had hung up, intent on recruiting team RWBY to help them protect Vale. They'd explained everything Jaune had told them: the mysterious message he'd received, the monster on the other side of the line, her hijacking of the war to destroy Vale and potentially Atlas at the same time. But from the look of things, they still had some persuasion to go.
"I understand your scepticism," Pyrrha began diplomatically, "but we knew Jaune better than you did, and we heard his call first-hand. He's serious about this threat. And I believe him."
"Does the potential consequences of doing nothing not outweigh the trouble of acting?" asked Ren. "The entire fate of the Kingdom may be at stake here. Does that not merit that we do something?"
Pyrrha saw the heiress do the maths inside her head, figuring out the costs and benefits of the decision to help. "That may be true," she conceded, "but even if, against all the odds, Arc is correct in his prediction of an impending attack and whatever this Breach is, let me once more remind you that we are just students. Children. This isn't our fight. We should take this information to the authorities: the council or at least Ozpin. They might be able to direct actual Huntsmen to protect Vale. Men and women who have actually completed their training in preparation for this sort of eventuality."
"We fully intend to inform Ozpin of the attack after this," explained Pyrrha. "But even what he can do is limited. Almost every Huntsman in the Kingdom has been conscripted to fight with the military. Even if he could get a hold of them and convince them to abandon the front lines, they would take too long to return to Vale. There simply aren't enough trained Huntsmen available. That is why Jaune asked for us specifically."
"Besides, everybody knows the council is super slow," added Nora. "Those fossils would be scratching their heads and arguing over taking action long after the attack had already levelled Vale." Weiss couldn't argue with that. The Valesian council were notoriously slow to act, even in times of emergency. Without any solid evidence to suggest an attack was imminent, they'd likely ignore them entirely, or else open up hours of debates and discussions about the risks and benefits of drawing Huntsmen away from the front lines to defend against a supposed attack.
"Still though…"
"We'll help," said Ruby Rose. Yang, Blake, and most of all Weiss stared at their diminutive team leader. The shorter girl had been mostly silent during team NPR's recounting of what Jaune had told them and had appeared to be deep in thought whilst Weiss had grilled them. But now she sat forward, and her silver eyes were bright with determination.
"Ruby," tried Weiss, "if we do this, it could be seriously dangerous. We might be putting ourselves directly in the invasion's way."
"I know," replied Ruby. "But innocent people are in danger, and I won't just stand back and watch other people get hurt."
"Spoken like a true Huntress," nodded Blake.
"Awwww, you're so cute when you're being noble," cooed Yang, scooping a blushing Ruby into a bear hug.
"Yaaaaaaaang," complained Ruby. When the blond brawler put Ruby down, she added, "Plus, Jaune asked us to help, and Jaune's my friend."
"Well when you put it like that," laughed Yang. "I'm in. Time to kick some invasion butt. You in Blake?"
"Sure," said Blake, rolling her eyes. "I suppose it's better to be safe than sorry."
"Weiss?" asked Ruby. "Don't you want to help set things right with your Kingdom?"
"Of course I do," the older girl huffed. Then she relented. "Fine, I'm in. I was mostly playing Devil's advocate anyway. So what's the plan?"
Pyrrha felt a smile tug her lips. They'd already gained an extra four allies against whatever was to come. Team RWBY might have been one of the first years like them, but they were all formidable in their own rights, and even more so once they worked as a team. Already an impossible mission was seeming more feasible. Though admittedly, seven Huntsmen-in-training still didn't seem like a large enough number to repel an attack. "First things first, we need to talk to Ozpin and see if he can offer us any aid," decided Pyrrha.
"Want us to come with you on that?" asked Yang.
"Nah, we'll be fine," Nora assured her. "Just you wait and see. We'll have Ozpin wrapped around our little finger in no time!"
"Good luck then," offered Blake. Pyrrha accepted her words with a nod.
Team NPR left the dorm and began heading towards Ozpin's office. They reached the elevator and crowded inside, taking the lift all the way to the top of Beacon tower. Before long they found themselves stepping out into Ozpin's office.
"Professor Ozpin?" called Pyrrha.
The professor had his focus directed on a series of holographic monitors above his desk, his eyes drinking in whatever information they offered him. When he noticed the team entering he quickly waved them away, and the monitors disappeared. "Ah, Miss Nikos, Mr Lie Ren and Miss Valkyrie. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"There's something we need to tell you, Professor," began Ren.
Professor Ozpin paused at Ren's tone. "I see. Perhaps it will be better if we are all seated for this," he suggested, getting up and pulling out some more chairs from a hidden cupboard.
It was then that Pyrrha told Ozpin everything: everything they'd been told by Jaune, what they'd deduced on their own, who they believed Salem was. Pyrrha told him most of it, with both Ren and Nora interjecting at certain points to add extra details Pyrrha had forgotten.
By the end Professor Ozpin had risen to his feet and had begun pacing behind his desk. When Pyrrha's voice finally fell silent Ozpin turned away from them to stare out the floor-to-ceiling window.
"It's worse than I thought," he murmured.
"Professor Ozpin? Are you alright?" asked Pyrrha. Never before had she seen the Headmaster so agitated. It was unnerving. If even Professor Ozpin was worried about this threat, then that didn't bode well.
"I should have realised," the Professor muttered. "James' death was no accident; it was the first step in her plan. He needed to be removed to allow her to hijack Atlas' army. No doubt Salem has one of her pawns controlling it—"
"Wait," interrupted Nora. "You know Salem?"
Ozpin grimaced at his carelessness, then halted his pacing and turned to face them. "I… yes. As a matter of fact, I do."
"How?" demanded Nora.
"It is a long story," the Professor sighed. "And one I doubt is of much relevance."
"But who is she?" enquired Ren.
The Professor seemed to debate how much to tell his students. "Salem is, I suppose for lack of a better term, Queen of the Grimm." A small gasp slipped out of Pyrrha. "She is dangerously intelligent and infinitely patient. Her entire purpose seems to be the complete annihilation of man and all he has built. I imagine this entire war is her latest, and perhaps most successful, venture to achieve just that." Pyrrha had suspected. A part of her might have even known all along. But nonetheless hearing it confirmed by her Headmaster, a man she respected and trusted immensely, had her heart hammering against her chest. All her fighting life she had been faced with either the intelligence of a human opponent or the barbarity of a Grimm one, but never both. But if someone took the brains of a human and gave it control of the relentlessness and ruthlessness of the Grimm, what kind of destruction could that bring?
"But you, you do know how to stop her, don't you?" begged Pyrrha.
"Unfortunately, no. Despite my best efforts, I do not even know where she is currently located. And even if I did, or we were to use Mr Arc's information to find her, it would matter little. Salem has made the first move. We must counter it before we attempt our own attack."
"You're right," agreed Ren. "Salem isn't currently the biggest threat. For now we need to focus on protecting Vale. That is why we came to you, Professor. We need your help in preventing the Breach."
"Alas, I am afraid there is little I can do," admitted Ozpin. "I have several contacts, but almost all of them are too far away to make it back to Vale in time. And even if they could, I regret to say that this war has already claimed the lives of too many Huntsmen. Those remaining are desperately needed on the front lines to prevent a ground assault of Vale as well, which I need not inform you would be much worse for the Kingdom."
"There's really no one close enough to help?" asked Nora. "Didn't the council leave at least a few Huntsmen to defend Vale?"
"I must admit, this attack has caught us by surprise. Not even I suspected Atlas would risk losing half their fleet to destroy Vale, though I suppose that is also part of Salem's plan. If the Atlesian military is decimated by this war, they will have little protection against the other Kingdoms. Or the Grimm."
"What about the teachers here?" suggested Pyrrha. "Or even the students. I am sure many of them will be more than happy to defend their city."
Ozpin was silent for a long moment, but then he slowly shook his head. "No."
"No?" demanded Nora. "What do you mean no?! Vale is under attack! We need to defend it."
"You do not understand," Ozpin tried to explain. "I have fought Salem much longer than you have. I know her better than anyone. She wants us to defend Vale. She wants me to empty Beacon so that it is left unguarded."
"What is the problem with that?" asked Ren. "Surely civilian lives are more important than buildings."
"That is not the issue here, Mr Lie Ren. It is not the walls of Beacon that concern me so much as what is in it."
"What's in it?" inquired Ren. "What requires so much protection?"
"I'm afraid I cannot tell you that. Not from a lack of trust," he quickly amended when it looked like Nora would interject. "Simply because the fewer people who know, the better. But I can tell you this: there is an object at Beacon that Salem wants very badly. If she gets her hands on it, she will posses untold power. I have sworn to prevent that from happening."
"So… so you won't help us?" asked Pyrrha.
"I—I am sorry. I can make a few calls on your behalf and offer you a bullhead to get to Vale. But Beacon is too important to leave unguarded."
"Even more important than Vale?" asked Pyrrha quietly.
Ozpin looked away. "Yes."
Pyrrha stared. Stared at the headmaster she'd once had so much respect for. Had once been convinced would always do the right thing. But now here he was, telling her that Vale wasn't worth protecting. That civilians weren't worth protecting.
She was still staring at him when Ren cleared his throat and said, "If that is all Professor, we will leave you to your work."
The professor nodded, and soon team NPR had filed back to the elevator. But just as the doors were about to shut, Pyrrha turned back and said, "When I first decided to become a Huntress, it was because I believed that my destiny was to help people. I thought that it was the duty of all Huntsmen to protect people who couldn't protect themselves. Not objects."
Then the doors slid shut, leaving Pyrrha with one last image of Ozpin's pensive face.
The ride back to ground level was silent. Pyrrha herself was too deep in thought to notice. One thing was clear to her: Ozpin wouldn't help. They were on their own.
Beatrice Blitz stared at the mirror in the bathroom of her quarters and struggled to recognise the woman staring back. The pristine uniform-clad chest, the weary eyes ringed with bags from too many late nights working, the bob haircut dyed a disgusting mud-brown colour: was that her? The woman looked like her. She moved like her. She spoke like her. But that couldn't be Beatrice staring back. Beatrice would never have accepted the invasion of another Kingdom. She would never have sat back and let innocents be injured by an amoral war. She would never have bowed her head in obedience when General Watts had informed her of the forthcoming attack on the city of Vale, a docile dog accepting its orders from its master.
Would she?
Coward.
She splashed some water on her face, hoping the sharp sting of the cold would shock her into alertness. It didn't work. It rarely did. For a while now she'd been struggling to pull herself together, to get herself in order. She felt like she was watching events in the world unfolding in a dream, seeing them vividly yet being unable to act against them. What was wrong with her? Anytime she managed to pull her conscience together long enough to decide to say something against the mindless slaughter of this war, as she'd almost done today when General Watts had given her and other commanders the order to rendezvous for an attack on Vale, she'd suddenly find herself feeling too docile to question her seniors. It was most unlike her, yet she'd nonetheless found herself slowly sinking into apathy since the invasion began, unable or unwilling to do anything.
What was happening to her?
Weakling.
She bunched her hands into fists, then turned off the tap and forced herself to turn away from the mirror and the stranger staring back. It was late, and she should really be sleeping. She'd no doubt have another emotionally taxing day tomorrow.
That was, if she could even find the will to drag herself out of bed.
Beatrice was senior enough to possess her own private quarters on one of the behemoth flying Dreadnoughts Atlas possessed, so her bedroom was luxury compared to the bunkbed dormitories most other soldiers had to sleep in. Yet as Beatrice lay on her bed, her mind a whirling maelstrom of the horrors she'd seen all too recently, she knew she'd never get to sleep tonight.
War was a bloody and brutal mess. General Watts had been wrong: the people of Vale hadn't welcomed them with open arms. They'd fought them. Ferociously, fiercely, Vale had fought to fend off the occupiers, forcing Atlas to pay dearly in blood and machinery for every inch of soil gained. Mostly in blood. Although Atlas did have a wide array of mechanised infantry and artillery, the equipment was enormously expensive, and therefore General Watts had decided to primarily use human soldiers to take the brunt of the fighting. That would allow Atlas to keep its robots in reserve for if the situation became dire.
At least, that was the reason General Watts gave.
And when Atlesian casualties had begun mounting, when men had lost their best friends because of Valesian troops' stubbornness after they'd been promised the occupation would be quick and bloodless, hatred had slowly stewed and simmered, festering in the ranks of the military and slowly building its strength until finally, just a week ago, a patrol had come across the Atlesian bodies. A whole section of them, lying face down in a field, a neat bullet hole piercing the back of each of their heads.
In that moment, the dam had shattered. Before the next morning, twelve Valesian prisoners—one for each of the executed Atlesian soldiers—had been shot and dumped close to Vale's lines for them to find. Beatrice had wanted to have the perpetrators arrested and court marshalled immediately, then sent to a military prison. General Watts had overruled her, claiming that Atlas' need for men was too great to waste so many perfectly good soldiers. Since that moment, the fighting had gotten bloodier, dirtier and less humane every day.
And she had let it happen.
Murderer.
Beatrice tossed and turned a while longer, an inescapable chant ringing through her mind. Coward. Weakling. Murderer. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she hurled off her suffocating sheets and strode for her wardrobe, throwing on her uniform before leaving her room to stalk the halls of the dreadnought, dark thoughts chasing after her every step of the way.
It was as she was walking that her scroll began to buzz incessantly in her pocket. Beatrice paused. That was her private scroll which was ringing. That ruled out the caller being someone in the military. But she'd only ever handed out this scroll's number to a handful of people. So who could this be?
She pulled the scroll out of her pocket, noticing the screen flashing with the message 'local transmissions only'. Since Vale had sabotaged their own CCT it had become increasingly difficult to transmit between Kingdoms, but communications within a Kingdom were still just about possible. That meant the person was calling her from in or around Vale, likely not too far from where her Dreadnought was hovering in Valesian airspace.
A sharp tug yanked at her insides. It couldn't be. Surely it couldn't be.
Heart racing, Beatrice raised the scroll to her ear and said, "Hello?"
"Hiya sis."
Beatrice leapt into the air as if electrified, then dived into a storage cupboard branching off from the corridor. Slamming the door shut, she brought the scroll back to her ear and hissed, "What are you doing?"
"Geez, good to hear you too sis," Phillip Blitz replied.
"Do you have any idea how much trouble I could be in for even picking up?" Beatrice demanded. "I'm risking my entire career for this conversation."
"Two years with no contact and this is how you start it? No wonder I never visited," her twin bit back.
"What did you expect? We're on opposite sides of a war. You've got some impeccable timing to start reaching out, brother."
"That's exactly why I'm calling," retorted Phil. He inhaled deeply through his nose, then continued. "This war… it's not what it seems."
"What are you talking about?" Beatrice demanded.
"I'm talking about your precious General Watts," he snapped.
"What of him?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that he's secretly working for a Grimm lady and has orchestrated this entire war to destroy Vale and turn humanity against itself?"
Beatrice started. "A Grimm lady? Wha—what are you talking about?"
"It's a long story," admitted Phil. "Short of it is that Watts started the war under the orders of someone called Salem. And Salem's also, y'know, a Grimm."
"No I don't know!" she hissed furiously. "What do you mean she's a Grimm? Why does a Grimm have a name?!"
"You're mistaking the Nevermore for the feathers!" Phil cried. "Point is, Watts is going to attack Vale! We have to stop him."
A cold, leathery hand slid its way down Beatrice's back. She locked up, back going rigid as icy water filled her veins. Her eyes went wide and she opened her mouth to scream—
Then she relaxed. It was actually quite comforting, she realised. This process. It was nice. She didn't need to figure out what it was. She should just accept it. Just accept it. Accept it.
Beatrice felt like she sinking into herself, slowly giving up control, even as the nice, numbing sensation spread throughout her entire body.
"Bea? Bea?" Phil's voice seemed to filter to her down a long, dim tunnel. "Bea, are you still there?"
"General Watts has ordered that an assault on the city of Vale is to commence in order to convince the authorities of Vale to surrender," Beatrice and yet not quite Beatrice stated evenly. "If those are his orders, then that is what I will do."
Phil took a sharp breath. Beatrice did nothing. Silence reigned.
Coward. Weakling. Murderer.
Beatrice saw the world as if she were watching it through a distant screen: she could see it, but she felt like she was too far away to touch it, interact with it. It didn't matter anyway. She was too relaxed to try to take back control.
"What happened to you?" whispered Phil too quietly. Beatrice didn't answer. "What happened to you?" he demanded again. "We went to Beacon in Vale. We trained to be Huntsmen to protect its civilians. What happened to that woman? What happened to my sister?"
"General Watts has given me my orders," she replied unfeelingly. "It is not my place to question them. The General ha—"
"Watts did this to you," whispered Phil.
Somewhere, deep within the recess of the numbing sensation, Beatrice stirred. "What do you mean?"
"He made you do what he wants. He tried to do the same to me and Terry. Did do the same to me. Bea, please, you have to believe me. Watts is somehow controlling you."
"I-I don't… why…" Why was it so hard for Beatrice to think? She felt like her mind was filled with treacle, leaving her jumbled thoughts to struggle slowly through the thick syrup. General Watts was… controlling her? That… that couldn't be. General Watts was noble. He was kind. He was just and…
Wait… no he wasn't. He was callous and tactical and apathetic, but kind? Noble? She'd never once thought those things about him. It was as if someone else had planted that thought inside her head. Like someone else had tampered with her mind.
Tampered with her mind?
Her mind.
For her entire life, Beatrice had only ever been able to count on two things: her brother and her mind. Two years ago she'd lost the former, leaving her with nothing but her wits to lead her through the viper pit of sycophants and ultra-nationalists that made up the Atlas military. Her brain had helped her rise the ranks of the military at an unprecedented rate. It had kept her alive in battle after battle with the Grimm. At times it had been the only weapon she'd possessed, and the only blade she'd never let go dull. Her mind was everything to her. Everything. And now someone else was trying to muddle it? Trying to defile it? Violate it? No, not just someone.
Watts.
Bastard.
Beatrice reached towards the screen separating her from the real world, pulled towards it by her twin's voice. The twin who had stood by her every day for almost 23 years, who had never once lied to her about anything, who had always wanted what was best for her. Who was now guiding her back to her senses.
Beatrice's fingers caressed the cold glass trapping her in her own mind.
And shattered through it.
She gasped as the numbing sensation burnt out of her system in an instant and feeling rushed back into her body. She almost collapsed at the sudden crash of sensations that stunned her. The feeling was akin to a blindfold being yanked off to reveal blinding daylight, and Beatrice bent double for several seconds just processing everything she hadn't even realised had been dulled.
"Bea? Bea! Are you alright? Shout if you're hurt. Unless you can't shout. In which case… urgh, just tell me you're okay!"
"I'm fine," she gasped, and for the first time in days she truly felt that way. "I'm… I'm me again."
"Prove it," demanded Phil.
"On our fifth birthday we had a surprise party in which you came downstairs in nothing but your underwear and all our friends saw you. You were known as the Underwear Kid at school for weeks."
Phil's squawk of embarrassment confirmed that he still remembered that story far too well. "Alright, alright, you're you," conceded Phil. "Thank goodness. What the hell was that anyway?"
"Watts' semblance," realised Beatrice.
"He can control people?"
"I… I don't think so. At least not completely. I think… I think it's more like he changes what you think, or plants new thoughts in your mind, so that you want to do what he tells you."
"That's… that's all kinds of messed up."
"You're telling me."
"So Watts is controlling the Atlesian army with his semblance?"
"I… I don't know…" Beatrice thought about it. Was Watts really capable of using his semblance on everyone in the military?
Would he even need to?
She grimaced. No he wouldn't. Most of the junior soldiers and officers would just do whatever their seniors told them, whilst a fair number of senior officers practically revered the General, treating his orders as laws unto themselves. Still more would be too afraid to dare questioning him, even if they did disagree. That left just a handful of dissidents which he'd need to use his semblance on. Dissidents like her.
She grimaced. "I think he's only using his semblance on certain key individuals, then letting the chain of command keep everyone else under his control."
"But… but he's ordering the army to destroy Vale," gasped Phil. "People are willing to do that?"
"He's telling them whatever they want to hear: that it's the quickest and least bloody way to end this war; that it'll only be a partial bombing, and that most civilians won't be harmed; that Vale have forced our hand by refusing any peace deal we've offered them."
"Then he has to be stopped," decided Phil. "You need to take him out before Vale is—"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," interrupted Beatrice. "Hang on. You want me to take down the leader of the entire Atlas military? Are you out of your mind?"
"It's the only way, Bea. If Watts succeeds, then all of Vale gets levelled. I'd do it myself if I could, but I can't. That's why I need you."
"How am I even supposed to do it?" she demanded.
"You're smart. You'll figure out a way."
"Fine," sighed Beatrice. Beatrice realised grimly that she was plotting a full-blown mutiny, and whilst that should have left her mortified by her actions, considering the circumstances: Vale in critical danger, thousands of lives on the line, and a psychotic general who might be working for the Grimm, Beatrice supposed she could live with her decision. "I'll see what I can do. But what about this Salem person? If we let her slink away, she'll just be back another day. We need to deal with her too if we want to end this threat for good." Phil went silent on the other side of the line, and Beatrice very quickly worked out why. "You're planning on taking her out yourself, aren't you?"
"…Yes," he admitted. "Don't be mad though! I've got this other guy coming along too. Jaune. He's also a Huntsman. Well, kinda. He never finished his training. He barely even begun actually. But he's partially trained, so it's oka—"
"Phil," interrupted Beatrice. She took a deep breath. "It's alright. If you feel you need to go… then I'm not about to stop you."
"You… you mean it?"
No! she wanted to scream. "Yes," she said. As much as it pained her to willingly give her brother her blessing to go on a horrifically dangerous mission like this, she'd made the mistake of trying to control her brother's life already. If he was going to do this—and she could tell he was—then she wouldn't hold him back. "Just… be careful, alright. I… I can't lose you a second time."
"Hey, I will," he promised. "When this is all over we have a lot of catching up to do."
Beatrice smiled, but it was brittle. 'If they survived this' was what Phil wasn't saying. But she still appreciated her twin trying to lighten what might be their last conversation. So she replied, "You should come visit after this. Atlas is lovely this time of year. Plenty of snow."
"Isn't Atlas snowy all the time?"
"Yeah, it is. On second thoughts, I'll visit you. I miss the Valesian sun."
"If it's sun you want, we should visit Vacuo. Always wanted to go there."
"It's settled then. When this is all over we're taking a much deserved vacation to Vacuo."
"I'll be saving up my shore leave."
"Likewise."
"I gotta go now. Got things to prepare. Salem isn't gonna wait."
"Sure." Beatrice bit her lip. Just as Phil was about to hang up she added, "Phil, I'm… I'm sorry." For trying to control him, for breaking up their team, for abandoning him for Atlas.
Phil was silent for a while. "Yeah," he replied. "Me too." And then he hung up.
Beatrice left the storage cupboard feeling lighter than she'd done in months. But just as she stepped into the corridor the ground beneath her feet juddered and tilted wildly. Beatrice clung onto the doorframe of the cupboard until the rolling floor finally stabilised. She listened. She could hear the growl of a nearby engine, and beyond that the unmistakable chorus of quieter, more distant engines accompanying the first. Beatrice lowered her hand to the ground and felt. The slight juddering of the ship was unmissable.
Beatrice straightened. She didn't bother with subtlety. She just ran.
The airships were on the move.
The attack had begun.
Ahhh siblings. Can't live with them. Can't live without. Boy do I know that feeling. Though admittedly the situation is somewhat different between me and my siblings...
Boy am I an erratic writer. I spent about 10 days writing the Beatrice and Phillip half of this chapter, then the last 4 of this fortnight throwing together the first half with team NPR. Go figure.