Myrka stood atop his tower and looked down upon his kingdom. People roamed the streets once more, with their lives returned to relative normality. The walls were being rebuilt. He had been careful to bring them down only in certain areas, and to minimize the destruction.

He'd received reports that the people were afraid, anxious. He didn't blame them. They had taken the city through force, and threatened to let Grimm loose in the city. Not that he'd have gone that far; he wasn't a monster. But he understood their fear, and knew that it would pass. In time, they would realise that things would be better without the Huntsmen. Without the corruption they brought, the world would become a better place. A safer place.

The computer on the desk behind him beeped, and Myrka turned to face it. Ao's face appeared on the screen, smiling at him. He couldn't help but smile back.

"Morning," he said. "Did you just arrive?"

Ao nodded. "We're just pulling into Beacon now. I shouldn't be long."

"Good. Come up to the tower when you get here. And bring Raud and Kelly with you."

Ao's smile faded slightly. "Have you decided what to do about him?"

Myrka shook his head. "I haven't decided if anything needs to be done yet."

"Myrka…"

"He did enough. We took the city. Killing them would have been a nice bonus, but it wasn't crucial. He distracted them long enough for us to drive them out; I'll consider that a good enough job."

Ao hesitated, then nodded. "It's your call. I'd be wary of trusting him with anything too important though."

Myrka raised an eyebrow. "You think he let them live?"

"He's always had a sentimental streak."

"He's a mercenary. Do you really think he'd let misguided sentiment get in the way of his pay check?"

Ao shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe I'm worrying over nothing. But… just be wary. For me?"

He nodded. "Okay. I'll keep an eye on him, just in case."

Ao smiled again and nodded. "I'm heading into the school now. See you in five."

"See you then."

The screen went dark.

Myrka turned back to the window and looked out over the kingdom once more. He pondered Ao's words. She was right: Raud had always been foolishly sentimental at the strangest times. It had caused them trouble before. But would it drive to a blatant betrayal like that? Unlikely. Raud believed in what they fought for, and, on top of that, he was getting paid handsomely. Myrka was sure that he was still loyal. Nevertheless, he would keep an eye on him. Any potential threat was worth considering.

The door clicked behind him, and he turned as Ao, Raud, and Kelly walked in. There were two guards at the door who glanced in after them, expressions of fear on their faces. Myrka smiled at that. He knew that the soldiers regarded each of the four of them with fear; the thought of all four in the same room must be terrifying.

They sat in chairs across the desk from Myrka, and he sat in his own—the chair that was once Ozpin's. Ao sat in the middle, Kelly on the left, and Raud on the right. Ao liked to keep those two separated whenever possible. And after seeing the venomous look Kelly shot Raud as they waited for Myrka to speak, he was glad that she did.

"So…" he began. "How is the kingdom?"

Kelly spoke up first, as she always did. "The people are afraid, but its fading. As days go by, and no Grimm comes within the walls, they're beginning to slip back into their old lives. They've begun to realise that we're not going to change how they live, and they're glad for that."

Myrka nodded. "Good. We want everything to be running smoothly again as soon as possible." He turned his gaze on Raud, who was staring blankly at the window. "Raud."

The mercenary blinked. "The walls are going up well. We've patched two of the holes, and are getting close to finishing the others. Give me another week, and the walls will be back to full strength."

"Excellent," Myrka said with a smile. "Then everything is well in hand here. Ao?"

Ao gave him a small smile. "Vacuo is ours. Has been for weeks. They will get no refuge from them. Mistral is… less certain. We have enough influence to get them to send out troops, who can drive them away. But if they get into contact with the Council, they may find a safe haven. And Atlas should refuse them. I'm not as certain as I am about Vacuo, but I am assured that things in Atlas are well in hand."

"That will do for now then," Myrka replied. "You'd best try and increase our influence there, though. We can't have them hiding in one of the kingdoms. We don't want them getting help to retake Vale."

Ao nodded. "Of course. I'll head back out to Mistral in a few days."

"Alright then. Sounds like everything is well in hand. Let's keep it that way. Kelly—" She perked up as he said her name. "—I want to you to do whatever you have to make the populace happy with our presence. Contentment is good, but I want them to think we're better rulers than the council, and better protection than the Huntsmen."

She nodded with a wide smile. "Of course. I'll do whatever it takes."

Raud sniggered and looked away from them, to the far wall of the office. Myrka sighed as Kelly rounded on him, her smile replaced by an expression of fury.

"Something funny?" she hissed.

Raud shot her a look, sniggered again, and shrugged. "I just find it funny that, of the four of us, you're the 'people person'."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her voice dripping with venom.

Raud shrugged again. "Just that I can't think of anyone less pleasant—"

"Raud! Enough!" Myrka cut in, frowning at the mercenary. If he let them go on like that, they'd be tearing at each other's throats within minutes.

Raud slunk back into his chair, lips moving silently in some annoyed curse. Myrka let it go. Kelly grinned triumphantly, sitting tall and proud in her chair.

"And you too, Kelly," Myrka added, wiping the smile from her smile. "I can't have you two at each other's throats like this all the time. I know you don't like each other, but you will at least be civil with one another. We're fighting for the same goal here."

Kelly slunk back into her chair now, looking miserable. "Yes, sir," she murmured.

Myrka nodded and sat back in his chair. He met Ao's and fought the urge to smile as he saw the laughter in her eyes. She kept a lid on it—thankfully—but it still made his lips twitch as they tried to break into a smile.

He inspected his team. Raud, Kelly, and—of course—Ao. They were his closest allies in this task. Some of them didn't get along, and they all had their own dark, sordid pasts. None of them were the most kind-hearted people he'd ever met, but they were all determined, and loyal. And that counted for far more.

The sounds of the city reached his ears and he let out a small smile. They'd taken Vale. They'd taken the first step. In time, the people would come to see that life under their rule was far better, and then they could take the next step.

There was a map of Remnant on one of the walls of the office, and Myrka found himself looking over it longingly. He eyed the spots on the map that marked the kingdoms and felt his smile widen.

One down; three to go.

Two weeks after the attack on Beacon, Ruby stood at the top of the hill that rose over their camp, looking down at all that had become of them. The parked airships had become shelters. People wandered back and forth, doing whatever jobs had been assigned to them. There was movement at the edge of a forest in the distance: Huntsmen hunting for food.

Beacon's Huntsmen and Huntresses, once the proud defenders of Vale, were reduced to living out of their airships and hunting for whatever food they could find.

Below her, Beacon's doctor was walking from airship to airship checking on his patients. Most of them had recovered well—though they weren't ready to help the camp yet—but there were a few who still needed care. Yang had woken up a couple of days ago, and was still too weak to even get out of bed. Ren still hadn't woken up. None of them were sure if he ever would. The doctor had managed—by some miracle—to keep him alive, but couldn't guarantee anything beyond that.

With a sigh, Ruby turned away from the camp and looked around her. She was on duty, on the lookout for any approaching Grimm.

There weren't any monsters as far as she could see, but there was a group of elderly women approaching, holding wicker baskets. They smiled up at Ruby as they approached, holding up the baskets as if to show her why they were there. Ruby smiled in return and nodded for them to head down into the camp.

Looking beyond the women, she saw Algard village at the bottom of the hill. Anticipating a follow-up attack from Myrka, Goodwitch had wanted to get as far away from Vale as they could. Knowing they he would have spies in other kingdoms, she'd wanted someplace to go where they could recover. The Western Dragon had been an obvious choice.

The villagers of Algard had welcomed them with open arms. They'd given condolences for their losses, but had nevertheless seemed excited at the prospect of living with trained Huntsmen and Huntresses.

Odin and his teams had come to visit Ruby many times since their arrival, wanting her to go on hunts with them. She had been reluctant at first, but, at Blake's urging, she eventually gave in. They were going on another hunt later in the afternoon, after her shift was over.

As if on cue, they four of them left the gate of the village and started up the hill. Ruby shook her head as she watched them; they were an eager bunch.

She did enjoy going on hunts though. It gave her a few hours to forget about… everything. She was beginning to work well with the four of them—even Lopt—and relished the chance to push herself.

But, standing over the camp as she was now, she couldn't help but think of it as a waste of time. Goodwitch had told them all that plans were being drawn up for a counterattack, and that they were going to retake Beacon, but it wouldn't be for a long time. There were too many injured, and they'd need all the able-bodied soldiers they could get.

So their plan of attack, for the moment at least, was to do nothing. To wait. To recover. And that pained Ruby to no end. She needed to get out… to do something. Anything.

Thankfully, her shift was nearly over. She glanced towards the camp and saw Blake climbing the hill towards her. She took a moment to wave a hand at Odin, telling him to wait, and hurried to meet her sister-in-law.

"How is she?" she asked.

Blake shrugged, her expression weary. "No change. She's awake, but can barely move. Barely talks, barely eats. I'm worried about her…"

Ruby gave her a reassuring smile. "Come on, Blake. She's Yang; she'll be fine. Nothing ever gets her down for long."

Blake nodded and gave her a weak smile in return. "Yeah…"

"Should I go visit her?"

Blake shook her head with an amused smile. "She's asleep now. You can go out with your friends."

Ruby glanced behind her. Fenrir and Silas were standing at the top of the hill waving down at her.

"Are you sure?" she asked, looking back at Blake.

The Faunus nodded. "It's fine. We can always use more food anyway."

Ruby nodded and flashed Blake a grin. "See you tonight!"

She turned and ran up the hill, though her thoughts weren't on the coming hunt. Myrka would pay for what he'd done. Ruby was determined to make sure of it. They were going to take Vale back, and he would pay.

Jaune sat in the dark, in the hold of one of the airships. Ren was lying unconscious on a bed next to him and, across the room, Nora was sleeping peacefully. The Huntress had healed quickly—her aura had always excelled at patching up her wounds—but was still exhausted from the strain on her body. She'd been adamant in her assertion that she was fine, but had passed out within seconds when Jaune had ordered her to rest.

Jaune was holding the pommel of his sword with three fingers, the tip of the blade pointing into the floor. Slowly, he spun it back and forth. Steel grated against steel as the sharpened tip of the blade dug into floor.

There was very little light in the room—only a small window above let in a beam of afternoon sunlight. Jaune stared at his sword as he spun it, the blade catching that beam of light every half-turn.

He stopped spinning the sword and looked up at Ren. The Huntsman hadn't moved in two weeks. An IV was hanging from the wall above him, giving fluids and nutrients to keep him alive. It was a miserable sight.

Jaune couldn't help but resent Ren for it.

He hated himself for thinking that way, but did nothing to stop it. There wasn't anything he could do to stop it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't help but hate Ren—just a little—for being alive.

He knew he should be grateful that his best friend had made it, and he was. He was glad that Ren had survived; he knew that he'd need Ren by his side in the months to come. But part of him couldn't help but feel betrayed by Ren's survival.

"Ren…" Jaune muttered under his breath, knowing that no one would hear. He paused, listening for any nearby footsteps, then opened his mouth to speak. He hesitated. Saying it out loud would be admitting that it was real. So he closed his mouth again.

He spun his sword, gazing into the orange light that bounced off it.

The sword stopped as Jaune shuddered, fighting back tears.

Everyone had asked him. They'd been asking him ever since the attack, and he'd been doing all he could to avoid the question.

Jaune… Ruby's voice rang in his head, filled with concern. Where's Pyrrha?

He shuddered again, then shook his head. No. He couldn't say it. Couldn't even think it. Not to Ruby. Not to Ren. Not even to himself.

He spun his sword again. The sunlight was beginning to darken to a deep orange, and it cast his face in an amber glow whenever it bounced off the glistening steel.

He saw a flash of red in the blade, and stopped the spinning. But it was gone. It had been there for but a moment: a burst of crimson, like rose petals, like the sky just after the sun sank under the horizon… like her hair.

He spun the sword. It wavered as his fingers trembled. Gritting his teeth, Jaune gripped the hilt of his sword and held it aloft, the tip pointing towards the roof. He raised it high and squeezed as hard as he could until his hand started to ache.

Then, letting out a loud gasp, he slumped forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The beam of light glinted off the sharpened edge of his sword and bounced into his eye. He squinted and leaned his head to the side, avoiding it. He looked down at the blade, the razor sharp edge, and saw how close it was. He flexed his hand as he imagined leaning down, swishing the blade up… Two swift movements and all his pain would be over. He leant forward and tightened his grip on the sword.

He froze, his hand trembling.

I love you, Jaune!

His fingers went limp and the sword clattered to the floor. Tears ran down his face as he hunched over and wrapped his arms around himself. He fought back a sob, but couldn't stop a whimper, and was about to fall forward onto the floor when he heard a rustle.

His head whipped up and he looked towards the source of the noise—towards Nora. The Huntress—barely visible in the gloom—was sitting up, rubbing her eyes.

"Hm… Jaune?" she asked in her still-half-asleep voice. "What's wrong?"

What isn't?

"Nothing, Nora," he replied, keeping his voice steady. "Go back to sleep."

She looked around and frowned. "Where's Pyrrha?"

Every muscle in his body tensed, and Jaune gritted his teeth together against the wave of anguish that washed over him.

"Jaune?" she asked again, concern in her voice, as he took too long to answer.

"I don't know, Nora," he said. "She didn't tell me. I'm sure she's fine. Go back to sleep."

She nodded and laid back down. Within seconds, her breathing had levelled out, and she was asleep once more.

Jaune picked up his sword, stuck the tip against the floor and spun it. The light of the setting sun, now a deep red, reflected onto his face. Jaune focussed on the red, but it only brought it pain. He could smell her hair, and he could taste her lips. But they weren't there.

So instead, he focussed on the blade. The blade painted red. He imagined that the red was the fresh blood of the bastard who'd attacked Vale. He tried, with all his might, to get angry, vengeful—anything to stop the pain.

But it all slipped away a moment later, leaving him with the pain again. The weight of it all crashed over him. At that moment, Jaune would've given anything to stop feeling—to stop caring. But he couldn't.

Gods, he thought to himself. He'd never been one to pray before, but if there was ever a time when he felt the need, this was it. What do I do?

I love you, Jaune!

He flinched as her voice rang in his head again.

WHAT DO I DO!? he screamed in his head.

The answer was a whisper. A whisper in her voice. Ever so quiet. So quiet he barely noticed it.

He gripped his sword once more and raised it aloft. He tightened his grip and rose from his chair as the voice spoke again:

Fight.

A/N: And thus this part of the story ends. And, yes, that also means that there will be another. No word as yet on when that will come out; I'm planning on taking a break for a while and then doing that one a little differently. But, yes, there will be one, final part of this story. I hope you've all enjoyed your time with this one, and I hope you'll stick with me for the last one.