Chapter Seven: Septemtrionis Venatibus, Meridionali Excursiones.

Friday, the 1st of November, 1889.

Croydon Airport was bustling with passengers at eight-thirty the following morning. Nora and Pyrrha strode onto the dirigible to Inverness confidently. Pyrrha wore her safari suit, with a short maroon cloak hiding Miló and Akoúo̱ from prying eyes. Nora, meanwhile, wore a salmon pink hunting costume over a white shirtwaist. As per usual, her white riding boots took pride of place on her feet. As they were seated in the first class area at the front of the ship, Pyrrha and Nora were greeted by a middle-aged waiter with an inordinate amount of wax in his hair.

"Good morning, ladies; may I take any orders for refreshments?"

Pyrrha noted that the man spoke impassively, showing the barest hint of disdain for the pair's manner of dress. Regarding the menu handed to her, Pyrrha spotted her favoured drink.

"For drinks, a pot of Irish breakfast will do nicely. Right Nora?"

"Agreed, Pyrrha. As for the food … ah yes, a bacon-and-egg sandwich. That'll suit me just fine."

The waiter nodded as he jotted down the order, then looked at Pyrrha.

"Any food for you, madam?"

Pyrrha's mouth cocked on one side, indicating her contemplation.

"I would have … yes, I'll have a cucumber sandwich."

"Very well. That'll be five pounds all up, please."


Pyrrha narrowly avoided blowing her top at the inflated price; thankfully, Nora had received an advance from her benefactor and covered the cost. That's daylight robbery if I'm any judge, Pyrrha ruminated angrily as the waiter walked towards the kitchen behind them. Calming down a notch, she turned to her companion.

"Nora, what papers are on offer this morning?"

Nora got up.

"I'll check for you at the stands out front; which one do you want?"

"Either the Daily Standard or the Manchester Guardian will do; I sorely doubt they've got the Morning Star out here."

Nora nodded, walking down to the stands. A minute later, Nora returned with all three papers. Keeping the Daily Standard for herself, she handed the other two over to her.

"You didn't need to take all three of these."

"Well, they had the Star on board as well. I wasn't sure if you were the sort to be caught dead reading it, so I took the other two in case you wanted something to hide it in."

"That's thoughtful," Pyrrha admitted as she hid the Star within the Manchester Guardian. At that moment, the teapot arrived on its tray with two cups, spoons and saucers, along with a small jug of milk and ten cubes of sugar. Much to Pyrrha's shock (if not outright disgust), Nora placed four of the cubes inside her black tea and drank a third of her cup in one swoop.

"Mm, that's good stuff," Nora murmured appreciatively. "No doubt the food will be better than the fare I had before I left."

Pyrrha gave Nora an incredulous expression. "You're eating again after a decent breakfast? What gives, Nora!?"

Nora never could manage a truly indignant prim expression, but she came damned close on this occasion.

"There's good reason in high society to eat at nine o'clock."

"And there's no good reason to unleash a 'Technicolour Yawn' at half-past," muttered Pyrrha under her breath as the food arrived.


After Nora finished her second breakfast, she turned to face Pyrrha who was still going through her first.

"Out of curiosity, what side of the Midlands did you grow up in?"

Pyrrha shifted her bespectacled gaze to meet Nora's.

"I hail from Shropshire, between Birmingham and the Welsh border. I was raised specifically in one of the country houses there."

Nora's face resembled a bowling ball at this point, with her mouth forming a perfect O-shape.

"Oooh, that's interesting. What on Earth does one usually get up to in those parts?"

"Well, as my father used to say, 'when you live in a town, you amuse yourself. When you live in the country, you amuse other people.' By that, he usually meant our neighbours."

Nora nodded; that observation held true in her part of Ireland.

"Too true. Did you get nice neighbours in your part of Shropshire?"

Pyrrha snorted. "On the contrary; my neighbours were exceedingly boring."

Nora chuckled. "Oh, aren't they ever?, Why, English people are so stiff, you'd find better conversationalists in a graveyard."

Several aristocratic heads turned around at the sight of Dr. Pyrrha Nikos falling off her seat, in the throes of a monumental burst of laughter. At last, she realised as she sat back down with the Guardian, I'm glad I don't just have Coco for humourous company. Meeting Nora was an absolute godsend.


At that moment, the clock struck nine. The dirigible was released from its moorings at that point, with the crew having long since fired up the engines and turbines. It slowly manoeuvred to port, then promptly peeled off northwards in a beeline to Manchester. After refuelling there, it stopped for the same at Edinburgh, then set off to the northern-most major town of Inverness. By two that afternoon, the huntress and the archaeologist had debarked from the dirigible.

Nora led Pyrrha to the nearest hotel from the airfield, and promptly checked in. As they entered a room with two single beds, the pair emptied out their weapons and materials onto their respective beds. Once they were finished, Pyrrha and Nora found themselves eyeing each other's choice in artillery.

"What's with those weird explosives?", Nora asked first.

Pyrrha followed Nora's gaze, spying her SNC charges. "They're mining charges. Combination of sienna and crimson Dust. If I make a hole in, say, a wall of rock surrounding a vein of ore and set it off, the rocks implode into an ash pile and the ores remain untouched. Comes in real handy when excavating something."

Nora nodded, a look of appreciation having adorned her features.

"That's ingenuity right there. Spying my dust grenades, are you?"

Pyrrha nodded. "Right enough, Nora. What sort of Dust do you put in them?"

"The Dust that I infuse my grenades with is a mixture of my own design, combining both ivory and crimson Dust powders in even proportions. A dissolution in salt water was used to bring the powders together, and it's a highly viscous liquid."

Pyrrha's eyes bulged in their sockets. "You're a greater genius than even I surmised; what difference did the ivory Dust make to the crimson?"

"The end result was a substance that provided about three quarters as much damage as pure crimson dust did, but enabled my grenades to have a bigger blast radius. However, they're only used for taking out targets at a safe distance. If close-quarters fighting is a must, then my trusty warhammer, Magnhild, gets used instead. I'll show you if you like."


Before Pyrrha could respond, the latter picked up her smithing hammer and held down a pressure plate halfway up the haft. A sectioned column of case-hardened steel sprang downward, rendering the hammer four and a half feet long – almost as tall as it's wielder – and the use of an oversized hammerhead was suddenly justified. Pyrrha was astonished, to put it mildly.

"Well, that's a sure-fire way of dealing with thieves! And out of curiosity, Nora, how come you settled on ivory and crimson dust for your grenades? Didn't you try mixing other natural Dust types with the artificial variety?"

Nora screwed up her face in concentration. "Yes, I did, but they didn't work half as well in the field as this combination did. Sienna didn't do much good for me at all, same for the azure – all the ivory did was create lakes of cold water or mud. Brass created small whirlwinds which proved to be uncontrollable, verdant created a bolt of chained lightning which wasn't agreeable to my coiffure. Cobalt and violet merely increased the field size of repulsion and attraction – which, trust me, wasn't that helpful for me in the field – and that left me with crimson dust. Hence the creation of what I call fuch-sia Dust."

Pyrrha gingerly broke the resultant silence.

"Nora, you might have pronounced that word … incorrectly."

"How do you mean? I saw it spelled that way in a dictionary … oh beggorah, I've just realised what you mean; my feckless mouth strikes again! What's it's actual pronunciation?"

Pyrrha softly chuckled. "Basically, it's like the word 'future', but with an 'sh' sound in place of the T."

"Ah, right."

"Anyway, what's the situation regarding the relics?"


At that precise moment in time, fifteen uniformed policemen left Great Scotland Yard to conduct what was arguably going to be the sting of the year. Inspectors Arc and Branwen had led the men towards a fleet of five Black Marias, and they all peeled off in a convoy towards the southern end of London. Arc and Branwen sat in front, with one of Inspector Branwen's subordinates in each of the other Marias.

When they crossed Waterloo Bridge, they separated. Jaune led the first two Marias down Waterloo Road, the third Maria turned eastward onto Southwark Street, and the last two went southwest on the Albert Embankment – separating when the last one went down Nine Elms Lane instead of South Lambeth Road. This last Black Maria was also the first to reach its intended target; a disused tenement building on Falcon Road in Battersea.

Within the ground floor bedsit, the oldest pair of mercenaries were sleeping off a hangover when the door was kicked down. It was easy pickings for the youngest two cops to cuff and remove the offenders. It was even easier for the Special Branch sergeant accompanying them to find evidence of their membership; the masks and explosives had been ineptly stashed in a cupboard.

While the two drunkards were hauled off, a public house overlooking the Brixton market was the next to be raided. A group of three young, unassuming men were dragged away from the pub's stock room by four officers, with Constable Heyman among their number. The weapons stash they were shifting was quickly spotted within several beer kegs, and both the stash and the mercenaries were swiftly bundled out the service entrance and into the fourth Black Maria, which promptly sped off towards the Yard.

Meanwhile, the Todd and Son's barbershop in Borough Road, Newington was raided by the third Black Maria. Constable Burns kicked down the door, and swarmed in with his junior partner and Branwen's deputy. A grizzly, middle-aged barber and his young, beanpole-thin apprentice were read their rights and led out in cuffs, much to the consternation of their half-shaved clients, with the Special Branch sergeant finding a cornucopia of throwing knives and cleavers among the piles of razor blades.


And finally, the top floor of a block of flats opposite Burgess Park in Old Kent Road was where the last six Creatures of Grimm were hiding out. The floor contained two pairs of apartments, either side of a staircase and atrium; unbeknownst to the landlords, the occupants had removed the interior walls separating the northern pair of flats, rendering the floor a safe meeting place for the anarchists … or so they thought.

"Let this meeting come to order," said the unofficial leader, a man of forty with ginger hair. After the others gathered around the large dining table, the leader picked up a clipboard with his agenda and began to read through it.

"First thing's first; both the majordomo and the last assassin have disappeared."

The table gasped; if they'd been caught or killed, then they were next in line.

"And secondly, the three outlying groups reported in yesterday evening; they intend to move their respective operations to this residence in the coming week. Thankfully, the flats opposite have been vacated, so it wouldn't be much trouble for them to swan in when the time comes."

The doors were promptly smashed down, and nine lawmen trained their pistols on the mercenaries before they realised what had happened.

After the suspects were bundled into their vans, Jaune and Qrow remained behind with two uniformed officers to catalogue the stockpile of weapons, Dust, and explosives that the Grimm had managed to scrounge over the preceding three weeks. It took three hours to remove and list it all.


After processing the offenders, Jaune took the weekend off, instructing Branwen's deputies to carry out the interrogations of the foot soldiers. He'd spent the preceding day planning out the raids and compiling a preliminary report, and was consequently in urgent need of respite.

Qrow Branwen, meanwhile, had spent most of the last twenty-four hours trying to interrogate the previous day's arrest. Neo Politana was, to put it mildly, a basket case who had hidden in plain sight.

Giving up, he walked to Jaune's chief inspector; a burly, tall man with a gravelly voice.

"Inspector Arc's just telephoned me; according to his informant, we've captured all the remaining Creatures of Grimm."

Qrow exhaled deeply in relief. "That's excellent news. However, I need help with getting information out of Neo Politana; she's a job lot for the madhouses, she is. Have you got any ideas?"

The tall man stroked his chin, and pondered on their next course of action.

"I'll tell you what," he started; "I'll go in and do what I usually do to maniacs, then call you in five minutes after I'm done."

Qrow shuddered; he'd heard a number of unpleasant rumours about the man's methods, but they'd almost always worked. "If you must; I'll be on the bench by the staircases if I'm needed."

The tall man nodded as Qrow walked off with hip flask in hand, then entered the interrogation room. Neo balanced giddily on the chair, with an equally unbalanced smile plastered on her face.

"So, what do you want to say, mister big-shot?"


Saturday, the 2nd of November, 1889.

At nine the following morning, Pyrrha and Nora sailed across the Moray Firth for their quarry, in full hunting regalia. Said quarry had proven to be a steamboat anchored halfway between the docks of Inverness and the entrance to the North Sea, with the prow of the ship facing the latter. Nora's contacts had provided them with a simple rowing boat for them to use, along with descriptions of the relics: they were a quartet of golden amulets dating from the 10th century.

In their opinion, finding the things would be no easy matter. Fortunately, the pair of women had been given carte blanche to take whatever else they pleased from the ship in addition to the three hundred pounds they were set to be paid. Given that their marks were thieves, today's pay day would be reasonable if Pyrrha and Nora divided the spoils evenly. As they approached the stern, Nora spotted their means of entry.

"Pyrrha, do you see that ladder on the starboard side of the ship?"

Pyrrha craned her neck around. "Yes. We're entering the ship that way, are we?"

Nora nodded as the rowing boat pulled up at the ladder in question. Without hesitation, Pyrrha latched the boat onto the bottom rung of the ladder, and pulled herself up with Nora following closely behind. The ladder itself ended on the upper deck, which was eerily silent. Pyrrha quickly drew Miló and Akoúo̱, and stood guard as Nora boarded the ship. With eight grenades in a pouch over her right hip and Magnhild fully extended, Nora led the way into the heart of the ship.

The first port of call for the pair was the bridge. They noticed straight away that it was completely stripped down, with the controls for steering and propulsion the only devices left intact. As Nora scoured the room, Pyrrha noticed an irregularity in the woodwork on the floor. Locating the edges, Pyrrha lifted up a panel two feet wide and long, and beheld the amulets astride a slab of copper.

Nora skipped towards the hole and quickly scooped up the amulets, stuffing them into a small burlap sack once she realised they were genuine. Pyrrha had an idea regarding the copper, and therefore removed the slab. She then unveiled one of her SNC charges and placed it in the rabbit hole.

Nora, for good measure, placed two of her grenades alongside it, and tied a piece of fishing line to both the pins, with the other end rigged to the trapdoor. This wouldn't kill the thieves, for sure, but it would make things … inconvenient for them.


However, at that exact moment, their good fortune betrayed them. As it happened. the trio of thieves involved had taken to changing the watch every eight hours. The man previously on the upper decks had just started to walk down to the bilge when Pyrrha and Nora started climbing up the ladder, and the changeover took long enough for the pair of women to locate the stash. So that meant that a burly, six-foot-eight Scotsman chanced upon the women as they began to close the stash.

With their backs turned, he pulled a foot-long knife and crept up behind the woman in salmon pink … only for her to roll towards the right at the last second, pick up Magnhild and smack the assailant in his stomach.

The sudden noise startled Pyrrha, and she spun around with her weapons to find the Scotsman brawling with Nora. Well, Pyrrha thought as she readied Akoúo̱, better give this discus trick a shot. She flung her shield with the grip in hand, with it sliding off perfectly and knocking out the burly man with a sharp hit to his left temple. However, the clang of the shield awoke the other two thieves. As Nora picked the man's pockets and Pyrrha retrieved her copper and weapons, they heard loud footsteps from below.

"Shall we run, Nora?"

Nora nodded, and they sprinted off the way they came. As they ran past the door, the two younger thieves entered the bridge from the port side of the ship and spotted their boss sprawled on the floor. While the younger man woke up his boss, the female thief ran to check the rabbit hole. When she opened it, she found herself staring at two grenades and a mining charge which had just activated.

Although Pyrrha's SNC charges were tailored specifically for stonework, it still had the ability to shatter wooden frames over a wide area. This, combined with the blast of the two fuchsia Dust grenades, caused the front half of the ship to be completely stripped of its wooden components, with only the steel superstructure still intact. This caused the three thieves to fall straight into the water, and gave Nora and Pyrrha cause to take a running jump into their rowing boat.

The local coast guards, who'd been tipped off to the thieves earlier, scrambled to retrieve the offenders, while Pyrrha and Nora returned to shore.


"You know," Nora said earnestly as they checked out of their hotel, "you'd make for an excellent huntress."

Pyrrha smiled warmly at this. "Why thanks, Nora. It wasn't bad, though a little too exhilarating for my tastes. I'll bear that in mind if my career goes nowhere."

As the pair made it to Inverness Airfield, Nora asked a question that had been bugging her ever since she'd met Pyrrha.

"If you don't mind me asking, how come you haven't started snogging Jaune yet?"

Pyrrha's face went fish-eyed as she gasped and fainted.

At four that same afternoon, Pyrrha and Nora returned to Croydon Airport. By this point, Pyrrha had realised that Nora's point was somewhat well-founded. Jaune's done his best to look out for me, Pyrrha realised, but I now know part of the reason why he did that for me. To be honest, his chivalry and concern wasn't unwelcome through this week … and I realise now that I miss having that there. Taking a train to the city, they arrived just before a quarter to five at a gentleman's club on Queen Victoria's Street. Waiting outside were a pair of nondescript men in grey suits and polarised glasses.

"I'll approach them," Nora advised, and left Pyrrha to wait while she handed over the amulets. The men looked them over, nodded at each other, and gave Nora the three hundred pound reward. She waved as they left, and Pyrrha walked up to her for her share of the money.

"Even split, Nora?"

Nora nodded vigorously.

"Sure thing, Pyrrha." Now that the exchange of cash and relics was completed, both women walked to the Mansion House station and caught the District tube. As the tube made it to Kensington High Street however, Pyrrha handed Nora a note along with the thick slab of copper she'd recovered.

"What's all this for?", Nora enquired. Pyrrha's gaze locked with Nora's, and her tone was fair, yet strangely uncompromising.

"Hand the copper and the note to Neptune – it's for his eyes only." Nora looked apprehensive for several seconds, then nodded in concession.

"Very well, Pyrrha. I'll be sure to hand it in on my way home tonight." Nora then waved goodbye as Pyrrha walked off the tube and made it home for dinner.


Sunday, the 3rd of November, 1889.

The following evening, Jaune was called into a meeting with Inspector Branwen.

"What's new, Inspector?"

Qrow finished his glass of scotch and began speaking.

"Both the chief inspector and I have finished interrogating, charging and transporting off the suspects. The mercenaries have all readily confessed to various crimes that they undertook as part of the Creatures of Grimm, so they won't be escaping justice any time soon. However, there were a number of snags."

Jaune's right eyebrow cocked upwards.

"How do you mean?"

"None of the marks confessed to the murders we were investigating; additionally, none of them were identified as the majordomo. And furthermore, the interrogation of Neo was … problematic. The phrase 'basket case' doesn't do her state of mind any justice. Nevertheless, she claimed full and sole responsibility for the murders of Dr. Watts and Tyrian Callows, between her fits of rambling."

Jaune looked taken aback at this.


"That doesn't make any sense. Watts's butler saw a second person enter alongside Neo. He was more muscular than the spindly freak who got hanged, and none of the others confessed to committing the crime. Furthermore, we also don't know where the majordomo's gotten to, and Ren claimed that said majordomo was responsible for handing them that order."

Qrow shook his head. "Look kid, even if you're right, the fact we nabbed the rest of the Grimm will give us a clear conscience. And while I'd like to follow up your lead to be safe, I can't go against the chief inspector either. He thinks that Tyrian was responsible for planning the murder along with Neo, and she said as much when I interrogated her."

Jaune's frustration palpably increased. "Well, why would she pretend to be the majordomo, give Tyrian an order to kill Watts, yet stroll in and murder him anyway? And furthermore, why the hell would Tyrian be sane enough to plan that and not take the chance of killing Watts himself? You were there when he attacked Pyrrha, for Pete's sake!"

Qrow held his hands up defensively.

"I know, but Special Branch has ordered me to defer to your Chief Inspector in this case; additionally, said chief inspector has decided to credit me alone for arresting the Grimm." Jaune barely held his temper in check as Qrow's expression softened. "As much as I don't like having to shut things off prematurely, or having to answer to the regulars, I have absolutely no choice in the matter. I'm sorry, Jaune."

Jaune gave Qrow a two-fingered salute as he left the room.

"No doubt you're proud to take all the credit for my work, you boozy piece of shit!", he snarled nastily over his shoulder.

Walking rigidly with murder in his eyes, Jaune silently fumed as he made his way over to the cab rank outside Scotland Yard.


A/N: Sorry for the late upload; I had to rewrite the plot for this chapter considerably. The title translates to "Northern Hunts, Southern Raids", and the soundtrack is "Dirty Creature" by Split Enz - which seems appropriate, given the Firth's proximity to Loch Ness.

Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed the references I mixed in this time, as well as the chapter itself. As far as the other chapters go, the eighth one will likely be quickly released, with the ninth one probably taking as long as this chapter did to write. The last two are basically done, so they won't take too long. Either way, I'll be finished before the month is out.