Good morning, afternoon and evening all. PiquedIsh with another chapter for Obsession Without Care. Wonderful to be back, always fun to write these chapters. Great response for the last chapter, and speaking of, here's a few reviews for chapter 3;
Proud Parent: The Tarnished came to play and the people of Remnant are the pieces.
diamondteel4: Salem and her lot are gonna learn to fear the most potent of Tarnished combat manoeuvres, the Roll shall strike fear into their hearts!
NlaEid: Civvies. What do they know? Huff.
Jebest4781: Thank you for the kind words, glad that you're enjoying the story.
And that's the reviews of chapter 3. Also, I'd like to quickly thank everyone for all the support for this story. We've reached just over 130 followers, 90 favourites and somewhere around 3,500 reads at the time of writing this. That's some real good growth! I'm very thankful!
I hope you enjoy the chapter, please feel free to review, comment and critique.
[Line Break]
Lucia Adel could admit to being cocky at times. Brash, sometimes, though rarely arrogant. It was a charm of hers, she liked to say. And it wasn't exactly unearned. Swordsmanship extraordinaire, Lucia's competitiveness had taken her to the top of Valean Sword Fighting. She fought in tournaments from the time she could walk, or so her father always said. It had given her a sense of confidence, one that she truly worked for.
But she could also admit that her cockiness could sometimes get her into some, shall we say, wearisome situations.
'And this appears to be one of those times,' she thought. Her sabre swung up, a primitive technique, following it with a far more graceful thrust made towards her opponents heart. His much larger blade came up like a wall, her point sparking against his blade. Belying his apparent weight and height, the target dropped down fast, and rolled under her guard. Lucia found herself hopping like a rabbit, the grass underneath her feet being shaved by a razor sharp sword the size of a surfboard. It seemed almost completely incredulous, even by Huntsman standards.
The Huntress kicked off Riachtanas' shoulder, creating space. Her hand came to the basket hilt of Lucky Dzek and gave it a spin, the rotary heads inside clicking into place. Like a torch, the blade was lit, sparking lightning dust. Internally she thanked her sister for the idea of adding a dust cartridge into the hilt of her sabre, even if it did only contain room for a single canister.
With a lunge, Lucia aimed an arching swing, which was followed by a diagonal swipe at Riachtanas' body when that failed.
Now more cautious, the Tarnished stepped back, creating distance. He didn't know what spell the Huntress used, he didn't even know that this world had magic, but now he was both wary and a little excited, though for reasons unrelated to this bout. If there was magic in this world then there must be ways to regain the energy needed for spells.
Regardless, Riachtanas now reassessed his enemy. Fit, though fairly inexperienced in comparison to him. Most likely prone to overreaching.
With a huff, the Tarnished sheathed the greatsword in his hand, but he did not remove his arm from the satchel. For a moment he stood there in a low stance, eyes watching Lucia from behind the Zamor Mask.
Lucia stared back, her stance in contrast to his, far more light and ready to spring into ethereal movement. She grit her teeth, now more alert to the danger Riachtanas represented. That stupid satchel, some inventory semblance, was a pain. She had a teammate back in Beacon, he had something similar, and he was a real prick to fight. Always pulled out some bullshit before she can react.
Well not this time, she wouldn't give this guy room to use that semblance of his!
Lucia charged like a speeding viper, low to the ground and fast, an electric line dragging behind her weapon. Even if he did pull out another blade, the electric dust in Lucky Dzek would conduct through the weapon, and then from his weapon to his armour. Dirty, maybe, but pretty effective she found, at least against human enemies.
With a self satisfied smirk, she made a thrust with her sword, her aim as true as any marksman and directed at his throat. It would be akin to a wasp sting, light yet packing the punch of a heavyweight boxer.
At least it would, if it weren't for a piece of stone architecture blocking her way, which then shoved her away with catastrophic force.
Riachtanas could find some amusement in Lucia's shocked face. He knew what she had been thinking, that a metal weapon would conduct her spells lightning up to his armour. It was a sound enough strategy, but it would only be as effective against enemies with limited weaponry. Riachtanas wasn't such people.
The Ruin Greatsword was a fearsome piece of masonry stuck on a handle, it was the size of a man and weighed many times as such. It was also made of stone, and therefore was not conductive to electricity.
Lucia, meanwhile, was in abject shock, with a little bit of horror.
Her target just pulled out a weapon made of a building. And he held it up like it was a regular broadsword. That wasn't normal. By any definition.
"Okay, that's bullshit! What the hell is that?!" She shouted. Later, she would grimace at her composure being broken so devastatingly, like a piece of flimsy porcelain being tossed against a wall. But she also felt that she could be forgiven, because the man in front of her had just pulled out a weapon the size of a horse out of a regular sized satchel. It was a little shocking.
"Thou should be careful. An enemy can be as cunning as thee, sometimes more," He instructed, stepping forward with his own sort of confidence.
"I can't believe I'm being lectured by the guy I'm supposed to arrest," she muttered. She now wished that she had implemented a multi-canister system in Lucky Dzek. But in her arrogance she figured that she'd do well enough with the one. More the fool's her.
Now incensed, Lucia ran with an angry force that led her in a curved direction, her plan to attack Riachtanas' left. She reached him, and swung three times in quick succession, sparks of electricity flying as she hit against his weapon. He countered, slamming the hilt of his greatsword against her belly and following it with a downward slash. It wiffed, and Lucia made a thrust towards his helmet.
Growling, Riachtanas ducked and rolled, pulling the Ruin Greatsword up to block a slash. He quickstepped past her guard, shoulder checking Lucia before giving a sideways thrust that smacked her right across the thigh.
She flipped, her whole body turning end over end before slamming into the ground, knocking the air from her lungs. Her right thigh was throbbing, aura or not it hurt to be slammed by a weapon as heavy as a dump truck.
She rolled away, purely out of instinct, and barely missed being clubbed by the end of that glorified stone club. She brought Lucky Dzek up in a block, gritting her teeth as the Ruin Greatsword slammed into her weapon's edge. She could feel the transient force hammer through her sword and down into her body, rattling her bones.
Riachtanas pulled back the weapon and made for another swing. With wide eyes, Lucia promptly ducked, the space above her head booming as the heavy piece of equipment missed her skull by a hair.
Wincing, she thrusted her sword to his torso, cursing when he rolled yet again, the point of Lucky Dzek hitting nothing but air. The two stood, eyeing each other like battling beasts duelling over territory. She huffed, her breath heavy in her own lungs.
And then, like a lightning strike, the sound of a gunshot rang out, echoing in her ears.
[Line Break]
Magnett's arm always stung a little when he fired his pistol. It wasn't due to something resembling poor technique or so, his skill with a firearm was moderate. But the crack of gunfire and the recoil that followed soon after always set his teeth on edge.
The fight was going poorly. He and his men winced at every blow, swipe and swing. The people before then were on another level, faster than should be natural and strong as an ox, each. Whenever the Huntress sent from Felton was shoved or pushed back, they winced. When her blade sparked with lightning, bright as a lighthouse, they smiled. When Riachtanas pulled out a sword of stone the size of a wagon they gaped in shock.
Lieutenant Magnett's arm moved on its own, a sort of autopilot, his hand gripping his pistol with an iron grip. He took aim, internally wondering what a dinky little pistol fifteen years out of date could really do against a monster like Riachtanas. He had seen what he could do, briefly, each swing of that gold greatsword seemed liable to cleave a man in two. If he missed, or that armour blocked the round, or his aura, then Magnett and his men would be in deep shit.
Even with all that internal despair rocking around in his body, Magnett still aimed, laying the sights right over Riachtanas' form.
His finger pulled the trigger, and with a sharp breath of air Magnett realised that his aim was true, his best yet. Panic must have made him aim better.
The round, far too fast for the naked eye, flew through the air, and hit Riachtanas in his side. The Zamor armour's armour was lightest there, as everyone soon saw.
Riachtanas gasped, feeling a strange sort of pain burn through his body, directly under his ribs. He cursed, feeling that ever so important fluid of life, blood, leaking from his body. He turned his head, glaring at Magnett with bright eyes filled with hate.
[Line Break]
'Oh. So that's what guns do. That is, interesting. That hurt, a lot,' Riachtanas thought. Calm as his thoughts may be, anger still swirled like a hurricane inside the Tarnished. He turned to glare at Lieutenant Magnett. The gun's point, end or whatever it was, was smoking from the shot. Was it that powerful?
Riachtanas let the Ruin Greatsword rest on his shoulder, a quiet fury welling up inside him. It was a new sort of pain, being wounded by a gun, and Riachtanas could admit to hating pain. Lucia, the Huntress, temporarily left his mind, and was replaced with the idea of vindication.
Placing his hand into his satchel, Riachtanas gripped another staff.
[Line Break]
Lucia watched as Riachtanas pulled another weapon from his satchel. It was similar in appearance to a quarterstaff of sorts, except it was dark in coloration and twisted in shape.
Her target, who had been soundly thrashing her up to this point, raised the staff above his head. And with this odd chime, a blue sort of aura covered his body.
Before her very eyes, her target had disappeared.
[Line Break]
The guard's of Felton felt an abject terror run through their system. Every muscle tensed, and by instinct they cluttered together like sheep, terrified of the wolf that stalked them. Their breathing was laboured, scared, loud as a blizzard in their ears. Riachtanas had gone invisible, disappeared, teleported, whatever it was, they couldn't see him, and it put fear into their hearts.
"Shit, shit shit fuck! Group up! Shields out, watch each other's back!" Magnett ordered. The men jumped to comply, standing as close as physically possible to one another. The Huntress was gone from their minds, they could only think of defending from the invisible beast.
Lucia watched, her eyes wide and filled with fear, more for the guards than for herself. She observed the herd of guards, worried for their safety.
The first sign of trouble was a shuffle in the grass. There was no wind today, the green valley was still as stone. Not a breeze blew through. So when a patch of grass was disturbed, directly in front of one of the guards, she knew something was wrong.
"Watch out! He's right next to you!" She cried. But hee warning came late, far, far too late.
A fountain of blood shot into the sky, macabre and gory. To her horror- no, to her absolute dread, the skull of one of the guards was a boney mess of grey matter, meat falling to the grass below with a disgusting squelching sound.
Riachtanas stood there like a looming ghoul. His hands were encased in a metal shell, a plethora of spikes jutting out, the entire image devilish.
[Line Break]
The guard's body dropped like a stone. Movement still lay within its arms and legs, the entire nervous system firing off in shock at the sudden intrusion upon its form.
Riachtanas stood with the Star Fist dripping in gore. The men around him stood still for a moment, complete bafflement written across their faces. A couple of them looked ill, and Magnett himself seemed appalled. Their eyes drifted down to the prone form of their dead comrade, his head a red mulch with bits and pieces of helmet scattered throughout. It wasn't a clean decapitation, this was far worse. It was messy, beastial and even primal in its savagery.
Magnett composed himself first, aiming his pistol at the ghoul in front of him, shouting in wordless rage. The round missed, the dark form of the Tarnished a shadow among the unprepared soldiers. In a manner staggeringly similar to that of a wrecking ball on a crane, Riachtanas' left fist swung, puncturing the Lieutenant's chest plate, crumpling it like wet cardboard. He fell, with blood gushing from his mouth and his hands grasping uselessly.
Lucia hopped into action, her leg killing her as she did. With a furious swing, Lucky Dzek came for Riachtanas' neck, planning to behead him. The surprise of her target being auraless had subsided, and was instead replaced with a deep seated fury.
The attack was ducked under, and Lucia had the absolute displeasure of feeling an iron glove encapsulated in metal spikes plant itself into her torso. Falling back, she could feel bile rise up and out her throat, her stomach doing gymnastics as she groaned in agony.
She could only watch as a scene of unshackled barbarity ensued.
[Line Break]
Mayor Haverdish grimaced as the Felton town gates were closed, heavy wooden logs as big as trees set behind them for added defence. Contrast to the bustling walls, the streets were empty. Only guards were permitted to roam the town. All citizens had been evacuated, shipped out across the lake, using any seaworthy vessel they had to get the job done.
Seven minutes ago, a spotter situated in the tallest guard tower in Felton had contacted Captain Ricket, and reported that the target, Riachtanas, had thwarted the arrest attempt, and had subsequently killed several of their men, wounding the Huntress the VHS had sent them. At that, it was all hands on deck.
Captain Ricket stood beside the Mayor, his steel helmet held under his arm. The Captain himself was an intimidating figure, a tall man of imposing build, close cropped black hair and deep set eyes of indistinct colour. His face was hard bitten and worn down by the weather. A good man to be Captain of the town guard, in Haverdish's opinion.
"Mayor, are you sure you wouldn't want to evacuate with the civilians? This will be a dangerous occurrence, make no mistake," The Captain warned. Mayor Haverdish sighed, looking his real age and feeling older still. He could very much tell that this occurrence was dangerous, he didn't really need Captain Ricket telling him that.
"I'm aware, Captain. If you please, I'd rather stay. I have a feeling he's quite angry at me, anyways. I'm sure he's already figured that I'm involved in the plot to have him arrested," He bemoaned, shoulders drooping as he said as much. The Captain huffed, but said nothing else.
The waiting was certainly the worst part, in the Mayor's opinion. It made things feel incredibly tense, made it hard to breathe evenly.
'I'm not getting younger here. If you must confront me, then confront me already,' The Mayor internally groaned.
"Sirs! Target is approaching the gate, no more than two hundred yards out!" The Spotter called, voice hoarse with worry.
'Hm, suppose it's about time!'
Captain Ricket barked out an order, and men formed into appropriate teams, headed to their assigned designations.
Haverdish would admit to not having the most military of minds, so the hurried movements of the soldiers in Felton were unfamiliar to him. It was why he hired the likes of Captain Ricket, ex-military man that he was. Regardless, Haverdish could appreciate the discipline that his officers had trained into their guards.
A call rang out across the street, one voice shouting out to another, a flurry of voices ringing out and filling the air with their racket. Ricket continued to bark out orders, the loudest and most authoritative voice in the whole town, and the only one his soldiers were listening to. Any voice of panic was quickly drowned out and swallowed by the hustle and bustle.
"One hundred yards out!" The Spotter warned.
"Mayor Haverdish, I'll ask only one more time, consider evacuating. This is a combat incident and-"
Whatever Ricket wanted to say about this being a combat incident was crushed in his throat as the sound of a giant's fist against the gate door sounded out, a terrible cacophony that shook Haverdish's old bones. Another thud shook the gate door on its hinges, the guards closest wincing at the sound. The third thud was the loudest, and the final straw for the old door. An oak gate three men high and six wide was knocked down, the bars and locks meaning nothing as it fell. Men scurried like rats to get out of the way, and to their horror, three men just weren't fast enough and, subsequently, were crushed under the weight of the very gate door that was supposed to help protect the village.
Riachtanas stepped into the village, a picture of horror. Behind him and dragging on the ground, held by its handle in the man's grip, a hammer of unparalleled size left a deep gorge in the dirt behind him.
[Line Break]
The Giant Crusher had made pathetically short work of the Felton gate. He imagined that it would do similar to the men that surrounded him. His eyes roamed over the army of faces before and around him, searching for the man that was at the forefront of his mind.
Haverdish was there, standing next to a heavily built man towards the back of the army.
Huffing out an angry breath of air, the Tarnished marched forward with a singular determination. The Giant Crusher swung up, and rested on his shoulder. Step after step after step Riachtanas made, eyes never leaving Mayor Haverdish's form. The man next to him, who Riachtanas could only assume to be the Captain of the guard, raised a fist, most likely preparing the order to attack. The Tarnished was almost tempted to let him do so.
"Mayor Haverdish! If thee wishes to end this peacefully, I suggest the thou would parlay with me!" He instead shouted, pausing in his movements. The soldiers around him shuffled nervously, glancing at their Mayor and Captain with trepidation. The word 'peacefully' rang through their head, a part of them hoping that such would be possible. "If you do not, I will be forced to extinguish this entire town!"
That crushed the men's spirit, and put their souls in a fearful state. The Mayor's eyes narrowed at Riachtanas, his mouth thinning into a hard line of consternation. Ricket said something that Haverdish didn't really hear, but he knew what the Captain was saying, essentially. 'Don't do it, he can't be trusted,' so on and so forth.
With a slight bit of surprise, Riachtanas saw the Mayor take a few steps forward, pause when the Captain grabbed his arm and warned him away, ignored the Captain and continued on.
The men around them cursed this day, this one moment more intense than any they've gone through before.
When the Mayor came to a stop less than twelve yards in front of Riachtanas, everyone held their collective breath. Haverdish was well within reach of that disgusting hammer, and one swing would surely take the man's entire upper body clean off. It hadn't taken him much work to break down a huge oak door that had stood two decades of wear, tear and weather. A fleshy, old, out of shape person like Haverdish wouldn't withstand even the most idle of swings from that hammer.
"Riachtanas."
"Mayor."
They were quiet for a moment. No one dared to breathe.
"May I ask what it is you plan to do?" Haverdish questioned, raising an eyebrow at the taller man.
"It all depends on thee, Mayor," Riachtanas answered, readjusting his grip on the Giant Crusher, "I want three things, Mayor, give me those without preamble, and I shall leave in peace."
The Mayor thought for a moment, his eyes clouding in thought. Behind him, Ricket stood with his hand on a warhammer that was far less impressive then the one the Tarnished wielded. Haverdish's head slowly turned from left to right, gazing over the fearful gazes of the Felton guard. He looked back up to Riachtanas.
"And these three things are?" The Tarnished raised three fingers.
"The money that we hath agreed upon when I was assigned to the Grimm clearance detail. The map I requested when we first met. And finally," Riachtanas's eyes narrowed from behind the Zamor Mask, his grip on the hammer becoming white knuckle, "A way to contact whosoever the hell ordered for my arrest. Give unto me these three things, and nothing more shall come of this day."
Haverdish considered Riachtanas' terms. Sighing, he turned to one of the soldiers closest to him.
"Call ahead, have all soldiers clear the road to my office," He ordered. The soldier saluted and left, most definitely in a hurry. Ricket growled in anger behind him, eyeing Riachtanas with unbridled aggravation. Haverdish turned to the Captain, but said nothing, only glaring at the man. He then turned to the Tarnished and gestured to the road ahead of them, "Your terms are agreeable. If you'll follow me, please."
[Line Break]
Ozpin sat in his office with a look of contemplation on his face. The gears above him turned with a hypnotic 'tick, tick, tick' sound, a sort of calming melody that helped alleviate the stress of the day to day runnings of an academy. Deputy Goodwitch had swung by not even an hour ago and delivered some reports, bills and other such assorted paperwork, but Ozpin had let it sit for a moment as he thought and thought and thought.
To his disinterested surprise, his scroll began to chime, signalling that he had a call. For a moment he contemplated just leaving it, but thought better against it. It might be important, it probably wasn't, but it might be. Picking up his scroll, Ozpin accepted the call request.
"Headmaster Ozpin speaking."
"I'm not happy with thee, Ozpin."
Oh? The Headmaster's eyes narrowed at the scroll in his hands. A man -he didn't know who- sat in a well lit office with a concerned look on his face. What was far more interesting however was the man who sat next to him, an armoured warrior with a strange mask covering his face.
"And may I enquire as to who you are?"
"I am Riachtanas of Limgrave. The man that was to be arrested on the orders of thou, Headmaster Ozpin." Ozpin felt a wiggle of worry gnaw its way into his head. He tapped his fingers against his desk, humming in consideration.
"And I can see that the Huntress sent to apprehend you was unsuccessful in her objective. May I ask what has become of her?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and gazing at Riachtanas from behind his dark glasses.
"She is alive."
The Headmaster supposed that may be the best he could ask for in this situation. He sighed, a headache coming on, and very fast at that.
"Riachtanas. The Valean Huntsman Society board of directors made the decision to label you as a criminal element without my input. I supplied the report, yes, however I will say that it was not my decision to have you arrested. I would have preferred to open a line of communication to you for questioning."
"Thou hath no input with this Valean Huntsman Society?"
"Not as such. I am Headmaster of Beacon, however I am unable to acquire a seat on the VHS board of directors. My placement as Headmaster does not permit it."
An old law that, ironically enough, Ozpin had been the one to implement, however many decades ago. If, in his absence, the Headmaster was a person that he had not vetoed personally, then he did not want them to acquire more power than was reasonable. So those who were Headmaster of Beacon, were not able to take a seat on the VHS Board. That certainly came to bite him in the ass.
"Then mayhaps we can settle the matter amicably," Riachtanas said, tilting his head in thought. The Headmaster raised an eyebrow, gesturing for the other man to continue, "If the men behind the VHS pull back their order for arrest, then I shall be amiable to questioning. I already have a suspicion on what it is thee wishes to question me about."
The Headmaster considered the man's words, a contemplative look upon his face. The board of the VHS was technically above him in terms of politics, but the truth was far more complicated. It was much more situational than that, especially with potential criminal matters involving Huntsmen society. In such matters the board was actually above the Headmaster, so legally speaking Ozpin had no influence on the matter. He explained as much to Riachtanas.
"Headmaster Ozpin, I refrained from killing the Huntress that hath been sent after me. I cannot promise that I shall do so forever. My patience is limited. Thou must make a decision."
Ozpin scowled internally. This was a matter of Valean Huntsman Law, he had no legal say in the matter! The circumstances surrounding Summer's death had to be investigated for sure, but there was only so much he could do.
Ozpin didn't have the legal power to question Riachtanas now, over a scroll call. Even if he did, whatever evidence he gathered would be laughed out of the Boardroom, citing that any admission or otherwise would be inadmissible if said over a scroll line of all things!
This was a conundrum, and as much as Ozpin may look the part, he really wasn't a fan of solving puzzles all that much, especially ones involving real people.
However, a thought suddenly struck Ozpin.
"Riachtanas of Limgrave, the warrant for your arrest by the Valean Huntsman Society Board of Directors has already been issued. By the laws of Vale and her people, you are to be detained and reserved for questioning. Do not attempt to flee Vale, or you shall be punished under our laws. The borders of Vale are constantly under watch, and are guarded well. You would do well to think carefully of your next move."
[Line Break]
Deputy Headmistress of Beacon, Glynda Goodwitch took a moment to admire her office for a moment. She didn't do so nearly as often as when she had first been appointed to the position, but once in a while she found herself doing so.
The office itself was located fairly high in the Beacon tower, just a couple floors down from Headmaster Ozpin's office itself. Sure, she had another office located within the school building itself, but that was her public office, one where students were free to enter if they needed her, which was apparently more often than she would have thought.
But this, this was a private officer where she kept all sensitive course materials, statements for the school budget, and a few files on staff and students. It was far better decorated, too.
Her desk was mahogany, the floor made of oaken planks, and around her were bookshelves, all holding either books -of course- but also assorted knick knacks, a few souvenirs from when she travelled or even gifts from the other faculty, most often for events such as christmas, or her birthday.
It was far more personable, and Glynda felt far more comfortable here. There was the light scent of cinnamon in the air, a scented candle that had also been a gift.
On her desk, her computer rang out with an incoming call, disturbing Glynda's peace.
Sighing, she accepted the call, schooling her features into a more neutral expression.
With the connection made, on her computer was a man roughly her age, with well groomed black hair swept back slightly. Two steely eyes sat on a militaristic face gazed back at her with a politic niceness.
"Good afternoon. I am General James Ironwood of the Atlesian Military. I apologise for not being able to call back soon, but I unfortunately found myself encumbered with something I could not ignore," he greeted, giving a polite nod as he did so.
"No apologies necessary, General Ironwood. I am Deputy Headmistress Glynda Goodwitch of Beacon, here to speak on Headmaster Ozpin's behalf, as well as that of the Valean Huntsman Society," she answered back, painting a polite yet formal smile on her features. The two shared a few basic pleasantries back and forth, remarking on the hardships of paperwork and such, merely as a way to break the ice. A few minutes of such went by, and Glynda felt that now was a comfortable enough time for them to get to the crux of the matter.
"General Ironwood, perhaps we could move onto the matter with which Headmaster Ozpin wished me to speak with you about?"
"Of course, please, ask away."
"Thank you. Well, to give context onto the matter, some twenty-four hours ago Vale unfortunately suffered the loss of a young Huntress by the name of Summer Rose," Glynda began, adjusting her glasses on her nose, "Now the autopsy itself has show that all fingers point to it being related to Grimm, however an eye witness reported that there was another at the scene of her death."
The General tilted his head in thought, digesting hee words.
"That is most unfortunate. My condolences for the loss of your comrade, of course," He said, polite but not as much as to be considered phoney, "I would guess that this call has something to do with the assailant then?"
"You would be correct. The witness I mentioned was a Huntsman, Qrow Branwen his name is. He was also teammates with Summer Rose, and the two continued to be friends after graduation. Obviously distraught, Qrow came to blows with the person in question, a one Riachtanas of Limgrave."
"Limgrave? I can't say I've heard of such a place, or heard such a name." Glynda nodded, she too hadn't heard of a Limgrave, and admittedly hadn't started to attempt researching the name as of yet. She continued with her explanation.
"Qrow and Riachtanas came to blows, with Qrow, who is of considerable calibre I might say, was unfortunately beaten back, though thankfully he was left with only minor injuries." The General nodded, humming in consideration.
"Hmm, that is concerning. If you vouch for the man, then Mr Branwen must be of fair skill. To best a Huntsman is no easy feat, even for other Huntsman," he murmured, rubbing his chin with a thoughtful expression.
"Yes, it is of some worry. What truly drew our attention however, was two fold. Firstly, the man's semblance seemed to be related to a satchel of his, it allowed him to remove items far too large for the container in question, so it has been deemed that 'Riachtanas' likely has an inventory semblance of some sort," she explained further, with the General nodding in agreement. It seemed logical enough a deduction in his opinion. "Secondly however, one of the equipment Riachtanas used appeared capable of some sort of hardlight technology, able to project a blade of sorts around a stave, as well as fire multiple projectiles that hit with considerable force."
"That is-, well, frankly marvellous technology. You think it may be Atlesian then?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.
"A possibility we considered. It may be that Riachtanas himself is Atlesian and stole the technology, someone with connections to Atlas stole it and sold it to him, or perhaps he himself was able to build it with training he learned within Atlas. We're merely trying to gather as much information as we can, and Atlas is of course incredibly advanced in all technical matters," Glynda explained. Once more, the General nodded in agreement. It was reasonable to assume that some form of advanced machinery, coding or technology would be connected in some way to Atlas.
"I can understand the thinking. And the Headmaster chose to ask myself whether Atlas may have anything to do with the scenario?"
"Yes, I apologies if any offence was made-,"
"No, please, not at all. Please tell the esteemed Headmaster that I will make some inquiries into the matter, and share the information once I have done so. I will of course be glad to cooperate with our sister Kingdom, and the Huntsman of said Kingdom," He politely interrupted, smiling amicably from behind the screen. Gladdened, the Deputy thanked the General for his cooperation.
After that, a few more pleasantries were made, though this time it was done so with some haste. The two had things to do now, and would rather get right to it.
[Line Break]
The hospital smelt terrible. At least to Lucia it did. They always smelt terrible in her mind, far too septic, with cleaning fluid and what have you clogging the nose. Or at least it did for her. She hated hospitals even without the smell, so white, and drab, and filled with the I'll and infirm. She had nothing against the infirm, but she could admit that being surrounded by a hundred sick and ailing people made her a mite uncomfortable, and she would be money that it was the same for many others.
So it really sucked whenever she was forced to make a stay at a hospital.
Sighing to herself for the umpteenth time, Lucia stared out of the window in her -thankfully- private room. Huntsman Insurance really kicked in here. Even still, the walls, floors and ceiling were all white, the TV that hung on the ceiling facing her bed had, like, four good channels, and the constant checking by nurses and doctors made her antsy.
The brown haired woman threw her head back against her pillow, which was just as uncomfortable as any other hospital pillow she was forced to sleep on. In the three days time since Felton, Lucia sadly hadn't had a single visitor. Not through her families not trying, of course, but sadly things just kept getting in the way. Her sister was a school teacher, and had to prepare materials for her class, while her brother-in-law was a police officer, so of course he'd be busy. And with the two of them having their schedules so full, it wasn't like either of them could grab the time to bring Lucia's niece around either.
The thought of Felton still brought her mood down too.
There was no other way to put it, she had her ass handed to her on a silver platter. It was embarrassing, but you know what? She could deal with that. Lucia could deal with failing to beat a strong opponent, she really could, what stung however was that she wasn't even strong enough to stop said opponent from killing four people.
That lieutenant of the village guard, Magnett she later learned, had died of his wounds less than an hour after sustaining them, with three others suffering similar fates. Whoever was left of the guards assigned to Riachtanas had survived but had been left broken, either mentally, physically, or both. They saw their comrades be brutally murdered and sustained heavy injuries on top of that, so of course they would be shaken.
It just rankled her how, well, unable she was at being able to fight her target. All that experience, technique and skill, and it all meant nothing. Sure, those four had technically been the only ones to die, apparently Riachtanas had been appeased by being given some Lien and a map, plus a pistol, oddly enough. But no matter how logical the argument may be, or how well a point someone made, Lucia just couldn't shake the feeling of uselessness that filled her being.
Once more, she sighed in frustration.
A knock on the door broke her out of her negativity, and Lucia was thankful. She wouldn't help herself by being inundated by her own depressing thoughts.
"Oh Miss Adel, you have two visitors. Would you like to see them?" Her nurse asked. Lucia nodded, feeling just a little better in spirits at the thought of seeing someone. She's been cooped up here for a while.
Lucia felt herself smiling as two figures walked into the room. The first was her sister, twin really, the two being spitting images of the other. Lucia and Savannah were only able to be told apart by their hair, with Lucia's being far shorter, and often less stylised.
The second figure however was much shorter, her hair in an adorable pixie cut. Her dress was a pleasant shade of blue that really accentuated her dark hazel eyes, Lucia's niece Coco was truly the cutest little girl in the whole world. Or at least Lucia thought so, she may be biassed however.
"See, here she is sweetie, Aunty Lucia's safe and well, yeah?" Savannah cooed, leading the shy eight year old to Lucia's bed. Despite her mothers reassuring words, Coco still had a pensive look on her face, observing her Aunt with a critical look. Or as critical a look as any prepubescent could ever give.
"Heya sweet pea, how's my favourite niece? Were you worried about me?" Lucia said, putting her hand to her cheek in an exaggerated swoon. Savannah picked her child up, and gently sat her on Lucia's bed. Coco harrumphed, crossing her arms in a sulky manner.
"She's a little upset that you got yourself hurt, if you couldn't tell," Savannah chimed in. Chuckling, Lucia grabbed her niece and dragged her into a hug, complete with baby noises and cheek kisses. Coco whined, and attempted to clean her face.
"I wasn't worried. The doctor said you'd be okay," She sulked, an expression of grump on her face. Lucia didn't buy it for a minute.
"Awww, I knew you were worried! You really are just my favourite niece ever!" She chuckled, completely ignoring what Coco just said. Savannah chuckled at her sister's antics, far used to them by now. She merely observed as her sister pestered Coco, poking good natured fun at her daughter's grumpy manner. In truth Coco had been incredibly worried, of course. It was just that she seemed unwilling to admit such a thing, in that silly way young children often were.
The three chatted and talked for a while, Lucia enjoying the peace it brought. It was a better peace than what the hospital could offer, a more comfortable peace. She'd been sick to death of the place by now, and seeing her favourite, and only, niece along with her dear sister helped alleviate her discomfort.
Eventually the topic of her injuries were brought up.
"It isn't so terrible, really. Bad leg, and my ribs are pretty sore, but really, all in all I'm in fair condition."
'Bullshit,' Savannah thought. She knew her sister well, and Lucia often had a habit of downplaying her injuries, especially in front of Coco. She always did so, really, ever since they were little. Her way of making sure people didn't worry.
Lucia, meanwhile, revelled in the familiar peace. Coco huffed and sulked with the best of them, sure, but that didn't change how her niece was still clinging to her injured aunt, or how much Lucia herself enjoyed it. She knew that she wasn't totally out of her funk, and probably wouldn't be for a while yet. But at least with her family helping her out, she figured she may be able to get back on her feet, at least in time.