Six Months Ago,
Yang was never fond of cemeteries, and this place was no exception. Back when it was only one small marker, she would occasionally travel out with Ruby to visit their mom. Now, the whole field and cliff-side had row on row of markers, commemorating those who had not survived to the end of the Maiden's War. Many of those markers were missing names.
During her day-to-day life, she worked with the other reminder of the conflict; the precious children left behind and in her care as the new Dean of Signal Academy. Many of them, too many of them, were orphans and referred to her, not as Doctor Xiao Long, but as "Mama Yang." Teaching, ironically, had come naturally to her; and her Huntress credentials helped win over even the most stubborn of students.
Her presence was important because of them, and because of her own personal connection to this collection of stones. Many things had changed because of the War and the four years following it. She was personally responsible for at least a few of them, and her friends were responsible for many others.
Nearby her stood one of those big changes; a small formation of Soldiers. In the aftermath of the attack on Beacon and the Breach at Vale the kingdom had developed its own military. While significantly smaller than Atlas in size, it had become the premier fighting force in Remnant. In no small part because of her father, Taiyang Xiao Long, and Yang's training programs. Compounding that, instead of Huntsmen being recruited, or forced, into the Special Forces as in Atlas; volunteers were integrated into each unit's formation as either combat specialists or a particular variety of officers. They were also entirely comprised of Humans and Faunus. The hacking of Atlas forces taught Vale a terrible lesson regarding automatons, and they had not forgotten.
At the head of that formation stood an old friend; now Huntsman-General Jaune Arc. He looked as uncomfortable as ever. In private conversation, he had told all of them that he never felt it right to have that position or authority, and that is precisely why she personally recommended him for the job. Experience aside, and by the time of his promotion he had plenty, a reluctance to seek out power is an absolute must in selecting a leader for the fragile kingdom.
"Now, if only he'd pull his head out of his backside regarding my sister!" She thought, surprising herself by how angry that thought was. It had been painfully visible for years now that they both had feelings for each other, but nothing had come of it. Understandable, sure, even Sun was reluctant with Blake before Yang and Weiss had a conversation with him. 'Conversation' was probably an inaccurate description for that talk... and 'talk' was certainly an inaccurate description of what had happened. "Maybe she and I should have a 'conversation' with Jaune..."
She would not do it, of course. She cared deeply for all of her friends, and the reason Jaune and Ruby stayed at arm's length was understandable. She looked at the statue. It was a life-sized sculpture of a young woman holding spear and shield in heroic fashion. The woman honored there would have hated it, Pyrrha had always been humble. However, being one of the earliest, and youngest, combat casualties of the war had made Pyrrha Nikos more than a fallen friend. Her memory belonged to the survivors of RWBY and JNPR, but her legend belonged to all the people of Remnant.
Both Jaune and Ruby blamed themselves for Pyrrha's death. Ruby's guilt came simply because she did not think she was fast enough in reaching the top of the tower that day. Jaune's guilt was worse; he believed that Pyrrha's act forcing him from the field kept him from trading his life for hers that night. Frustrating as it was, she admitted to herself, neither would even speak of their feelings to the other because of that burden on their hearts.
A horn sounded, the honor guard shifted into a salute, and Yang turned and the Ceremony began.
…
Jaune Arc touched his sword hilt to his forehead and slowly lowered it slowly with a straight arm toward the ground, with the blade held so that one flat of the blade faced upwards. He felt horribly stiff and hot in his uniform, a thick wool coat dyed almost-black and white cotton trousers. His gold-trimmed white armor, which he wore over the uniform, did not help matters. He missed his Pumpkin Pete Hoodie and blue jeans. During regular work, he still wore jeans, but the Hoodie had long since worn out. Still, as Huntsman-General, this was his required attire for the evening; and he had to wear it. Ruby had made that last point very, uncomfortably clear.
Huntsman-General, a title combining his profession with his unwanted authority. He still was not used to the idea. He had accepted the council's appointment reluctantly, and would be a very happy man when he no longer carried it with him.
He disliked this place for much the same reason as he disliked his title. The title granted him authority, but also responsibility. This graveyard was a constant reminder of what his failure would bring to those that served under him. Row on row of stone, for the Soldiers, his Soldiers, it was always a simple marker with their name and a small religious symbol. Funny, he thought, how each insisted on that simple marker. "When we face our gods" one Soldier had once said to him, "we will face them as equals, regardless of where we came from." In the end, he agreed, and his marker would look much the same as theirs.
The ceremony was an annual event, marking the anniversary of the worst day of their lives. Every year since the end of hostilities, surviving Huntsmen veterans of the Battle of Beacon laid wreaths at these monuments. This was the fifth occurrence of the ceremony, and team RWBY were placing the wreaths. Each member would place, in turn, wreaths on The Unknowns Memorial; The Innocent's Memorial; The Soldier's Memorial, called "Equality" because the Soldiers were both Human and Faunus; and, finally, The Huntsmen Memorial, called "The Maiden" for reasons too painful for Jaune to think about. He glanced at Ruby, who had chosen to place that wreath. "This is painful for her, too." He thought.
Weiss Schnee stepped forward, placing the wreath on the memorial of the Unknowns. Through all the years, and all the hardship, she had kept her bearing. A formidable woman and now the head of a still-formidable family. She and Yang had already hinted at their disapproval of Jaune's reluctance to propose or court Ruby. Considering their earlier 'conversation' with Sun regarding Blake, Jaune was not looking forward to dinner after the ceremony's conclusion. "My curse will die with me." He thought, bitterly determined.
Yang was next to step forward. She had selected the Innocents Memorial, appropriate for a woman now widely considered a saint by the people. Dean of Signal was one of the most important positions in Vale recently, and she was in line for either a Council seat or headmaster of Beacon itself in the future.
Jaune glanced to the other side, and looked at Oscar. He was one of the few who knew about Oscar's... uniqueness. "I wonder," He thought, "what he thinks of all of this." What would one think about mourning death if they had the ability to cheat it?
…
Oscar watched the proceedings and straightened his suit. He felt Jaune's eyes on him, but that did not bother him. Jaune had become something of a big-brother to this version of Oscar, and could be easily trusted. After all, Jaune knew part of his secret and hadn't told anyone.
Jaune, and the rest of the team who first encountered Oscar, assumed that the memories of old Ozpin had found him after the fall of Beacon. That was true, in a very narrow sense. They were off, though, by an order of magnitude. Oscar was not only the host to Ozpin's life, he was the host to every life Ozpin had hosted beforehand. Instead of decades of memories from one life, Oscar had thousands of years of memories from hundreds of lives before his own.
It was a blessing and a curse. Oscar was functionally immortal. If this body died the next host would inherit the memories and, like Ozpin did for him, his psyche would guide the recipient for years to best integrate those memories into the mind and personality of the new host. The curse was the memories themselves, both good and bad, and their constant comparison to the present. He remembered the first humans on Remnant, and how they got there. He knew, personally, how far humanity had fallen and how far it still had to climb.
For instance; he still could not fathom that this version of civilization, the eighth if he was counting properly, could achieve wireless communication and sentient Artificial Intelligence yet still fail to achieve basic spaceflight. However, that did not matter too much to him. Holding thousands of years of perspective gave one an open mind to how things could progress.
"The Faunus were an unexpected development" he thought to himself, watching Lady Belladona place a wreath on a monument. "As, I admit, were both the Silver-Eyes and the Maidens." now watching Miss Ruby Rose place another wreath on the statue of Pyrrha Nikos. Salem, Salem was unfortunately completely expected. Given sufficient time and knowledge, mankind always found a way to try and destroy itself. An earlier version of him had tried to stop that occurrence, to be sure, and without even trying Ozpin had almost succeeded. Or, at least, that version of him took some small pride in his living tenure because of it. However, that self-destructive tendency was a constant of the universe. Just like Oscar was.
Oscar heard the sound of a motorcycle in the distance, a Courier from the capitol was approaching. He sighed, this version of him was currently aide-de-camp to Huntsman-General Arc, and receiving sensitive messages was a responsibility of his. "Let's go see what this is all about." Oscar said to himself, all of his-selves.
…
Ruby turned away from Pyrrha and walked back toward the assembly. With each step, she felt the stone eyes of Pyrrha's statue on her back. Normally, she would stop and talk to the stone, as though talking to her friend. Their talks would be about how life had changed; how everyone was doing; and, in particular, about Jaune's progress and health. "Please, you have to save Pyrrha." Jaune's pleading call from that night still haunted Ruby. Pyrrha's statue was a permanent reminder that she had failed that begging request.
"Don't worry, I'll protect him." She said to the statue, and to herself, making the same promise she had made a thousand times since that horrible night. She never understood why Jaune did not hate her for that failure, why he did not blame her for the death of his love.
She returned to the dais, and the ceremony concluded with a brief speech by Blake. While the others in attendance made their ways toward their cars and carriages, she made her way towards the markers and memorials. She passed through a small clump of the dismissed troops, who gave her a wide but respectful berth. She appreciated them, but was never able to really get to know any of them. She was… different... from them, and though they viewed that difference in a good way, the separation gnawed at her.
For her sister, connecting with Soldiers came naturally. In part because of a similar hard-partying life style off duty, and in part because the Soldiers never had to guess if she had been in their shoes. One of the Soldiers would always nod toward the prosthetic, Yang's missing arm, and ask a one-word question. "Where?" It was a simple question, with a simple answer, but it conveyed whole essays of both their stories and hers. Yang would then answer "Beacon" and one of two things would happen. Either the questioning Soldier would nod, looking at her with both respect and sympathy; or the Soldier would smile the kind of smile only that particular breed of person could have, a twisted combination of sadness and fondness, then say "That was a shit-show, wasn't it?" Regardless of response, Yang was then a part of their group; bent, maybe even broken, but still moving forward.
For Ruby this was different. She never had to prove herself, instead she had the opposite problem of most huntsmen. Her first introduction to the Soldiers was the middle of a battle where she intervened at the crucial moment. From there squad talked to squad, and she was seen as some kind of good-luck symbol. They revered her, like they revered Pyrrha, and it annoyed her to no end.
She reached her mother's marker, now flanked by her father and uncle's graves. She began her regular ritual; a brief prayer, and a talk to each of them. She then walked back to Pyrrha's monument, regardless of who else was remembered there it belonged to Pyrrha, and began to talk with her as well.
…
"Is this report confirmed?" Oscar asked the courier, worry instantly entering his mind. "These pictures come from two different recon teams several days apart, Intel has a ninety-percent certainty that these two are in fact the same as Cinder's associates." The Courier replied.
Oscar was shocked. Not that this was necessarily unexpected for him, his inhumanly long memory noted several instances of faked death and evasion. The shock came from how that death was faked, and the two who escaped.
Mercury Black and Emerald Sustrai were the two personal assassins of Cinder Fall; one of Salem's top lieutenants and the woman who had killed Oscar's predecessor, Doctor Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon Academy.
That night flashed again in Oscar's mind; a major crisis, a battle, and a failed attempt to prevent the capture of the Fall Maiden's powers. While Jaune and Ruby suffered from imagined failures that night; Oscar's, or rather Ozpin's, failures were very real.
This graveyard existed solely because of his own underestimation to the approaching danger. Had it not been for the presence and fast thinking of Qrow Branwen, James Ironwood, and Glinda Goodwitch Vale would no longer be a kingdom, or even a populated region on this accursed planet.
Now, it had been confirmed, was news that two of those conspirators still lived; and were still capable of influencing events. Both were known to be in Salem's inner circle near the end of the war, it could only be assumed that they knew and supported her master plan.
"What actions have been taken?" Oscar asked, mouth dry. The Courier responded, "Huntsmen Lie Ren and Nora Valkyrie have been dispatched to assess, and this message from the council is to be disseminated to General Arc, Dean Yang, and Huntress Rose." The titles were still absurd to Oscar, Ozpin's memories of awkward young men and women still held precedence in his mind's eye over what those children had become over the intervening years. This would not be pleasant for either of them to hear, the very knowledge of it could undo a great deal of work all of them had done in rebuilding the world. "Thank you, Soldier, I'll take it from here." The Courier saluted, remounted his motorcycle, and began riding toward Vale.
"Any advice, guys?" He reluctantly asked his past selves while walking toward the dispersing assembly.