Chapter 21: Productions of Time

To say Salem wasn't permissive of failure was far from a fair assessment of any kind. In fact, she welcomed it, especially when it often led to significant improvements on her plans, people learned something when they failed, as long as it wasn't a fatal mistake. She herself had failed in many endeavors many times, could she not permit it in her followers?

The loss of Grimm was a constant, even though, if her senses were still sharp, their numbers were somewhere in the eight digits, she didn't see the point in keeping track of the exact number when it changed so quickly. Losing Elders such as the Dragon, those were setbacks that caught her attention, delayed her a couple of centuries at least, and such had happened not too long ago. That loss necessitated correction, she couldn't let humanity get too far ahead now, could she? The Grimm were somewhat autonomous and could act on their own, but with her input and tactics they were simply more coordinated, no two ways about it. It helped in the way she could slowly drain resources, little by little, while the Grimm renewed at their spawning pools every day.

And then Ozma, unbound by time, would find a way to halt her, temporarily.

Such was the ebb and flow of time and eternity, each enchanted by the workings of the other. She'd find the small weaknesses in humanity and their defenses, amplify them, and they would find new and interesting ways to fight against her horde. In that effect they were destined to fail, if not that day then in the thousand days that would come, or thousand years. The only certainty in their future was failure.

And speaking of failure…

The city of Atlas was ahead of the airship fleet. The massive suspended landmass was finding multiple ways to test her patience and waste her time recently, and that was as far removed from wise as the continent of Solitas was to Anima. She was fair, and so Arthur was given time to prepare for her arrival, the hard-light Dust wall that protected the city's borders against the wind and ice was adjusted to let them through, letting the many ships through the solid barrier as if it was a flexible film.

In her honor, magnificent Atlesian banners of all sizes — some a couple of stories tall — were flying from newly restored buildings, the gear and scepter emblem. Below, a marching band played along the main highway, a crowd cheering as they passed, with Paladins and android Knights at their backs, no doubt their presence there to ensure the involuntary participation of the civilians. Yes… she could see it in them that the smiles and cheers were all false.

Such a fool, that Arthur. Does he think this can impress me? I look here and I see only weakness, such a disappointment… It was akin to crippling every one of her Grimm beasts and then inviting Hunters over to her keep, expecting victory. Foolishness, pure, unadulterated arrogance

The main display likely distracted the minor Nobles present in the other airships. Salem focused on the side streets, away from the main road. There was the covert scurrying of people, and heavy footsteps of patrolling Paladins.

At the very center of Atlas was the old Academy, now converted into the military's command center. Five silver towers, Salem knew the greater, central tower was once a part of the original CCTS, presently a part of the military's all-encompassing grip.

He's been pressured, she thought. As expected, the smugglers and mercenaries Jacques hired were giving him trouble, going after the Dust reserves covertly, always in different ways. By the time they could realize what had happened, it was already done. Watts was finally realizing the cost of having all the power he wanted.

Inside the metal and concrete center, the oppressive air of security followed. Guards everywhere, multiple checkpoints, always scanned the guests, their eyes moving from side to side, watching. Their gear was in perfect condition, carrying that special shine that told her it was being used often. The main hall was grandiose and embedded in the floor was a mosaic of the atlesian emblem.

She focused on the android knights. They were corrupted, and as such she could use them to see, in the same way she could see through the eyes of Grimm. The Schnee man was nowhere to be found.

Interesting.

Watts approached Salem, walking down the main hall, so she turned her attention fully into her main body. Hazel followed as he walked with purpose, hands behind his back, shoulders squared and back straight. He stopped in front of her, bowed as he would with other Nobles.

"Lady Samantha Stoneguard," he said.

"General Watts. I hear there'll be a snowstorm soon."

Watts smiled, "Rest assured, our shield wall held against these many 'll pass like all the others."

"I see. Will it have passed after or during the announcement you'll make at today's banquet?"

Arthur hesitated for a moment, "After. Unless there are delays of course, but that would be… extremely unlikely. Today, at the arena we'll be demonstrating the power of our new android models."

"Against one another, I presume?"

"That'd be correct," Watts answered with a nod.

That was novelty for sure, the man was erring on the side of caution, when the Watts Salem knew was all too eager to try risky but high reward tactics. She would have believed the man had listened to her previous warnings, but somehow Salem doubted it.

"And new specialists?," she said, something of a subtle hint. She didn't mean atlesian specialists, that much would be clear to Watts. She was making sure he did not repeat the same mistake twice.

"Unfortunately,we have no new specialists," Watts confirmed.

Behind the false General, Hazel nodded slightly, confirming the affirmation.

"That so?" Salem answered, false concern entwined in her words, "Unfortunate, but necessary."

If the Huntresses that learned of the hybrids had survived, they could've forced Salem to discard one of her most obedient aces, her mightiest hidden weapon. Hidden weapons revealed before their time were rather useless.

Should she take Arthur's word at its face value, however? Under different circumstances she would have taken the bare minimum effort to analyze the facts, consider what was within Watts and his capacity, but Salem couldn't really find it in herself to care. He couldn't harm her, nothing could, and whatever happened to the man or atlas at that point was completely and utterly immaterial to Salem. She already had what she wanted, and here she was determined to simply watch the show unfold.

Oh well. Let him believe his subterfuge is successful. Even I like to play the fool once in a while.

Salem let a smile escape, "Well that is splendid then! Say, I cannot wait to see the new models then…"

"Ah, I have a special room prepared just for you, Lady Samantha." Watts said, "I reserved the best equipment, view and food, just for you, at the top of the main tower. Follow me, please."

Salem followed him across the corridors. She was a good head taller than Watts, and as the dress dragged behind the guards in front of them scurried out of their way. Finally, they reached her room, guarded by a pair of heavily armored men. The magnificent and double door was sculpted with florals and scrolling vines, hidden thorns in the empty space between them. It mirrored Salem's choice at the keep, no doubt a deliberate attempt in swaying her, as if to show his attention to detail.

Watts opened the door revealing a spacious room, recessed, soft lighting revealed white marble floor and walls polished to a near mirror shine. To the side a wall replete with holographic screens displayed the arena, and on the opposite a line of servants, all dressed in the best dresses and suits, all of them alluring in their own right.

Opposite to the door was a spacious, circular couch, followed by a large bed with red velvet sheets. Behind, it was flanked by pillars and floor-to-ceiling windows, both overlooked a view of the snowy Solitas mountains, unimpeded by the atlesian buildings and skyscrapers. The lit incense on every corner gave the room a woody smell, with a hint of a floral note.

Salem ignored the view, she was feeling more than a little indulgent that day. She gave Watts a false smile, moved to the bed, falsely inspecting the cloth, then to the servants. They were afraid as she approached, but the way to sway the hearts of men and women hadn't changed. With the correct smile and glances, she slowed their heartbeats and soothed their fears.

I would've preferred a throne, Salem thought, though she could see how such wouldn't have been practical or convincing for her disguise. She was supposed to be simply a widow Noble after all.

Salem looked back at Watts, "This is a fine room, Arthur."

"We took your tastes into account," Arthur answered.

"That is more than acceptable. Leave me then, I would like to enjoy the rest of the evening. You know how I detest traveling via airships," she lied.

Watts nodded, carefully closing the door. As his footsteps echoed away, Salem walked to the line of servants, four of them. "Don't be shy, go ahead, tell me your names. I won't bite." Attacking people herself was so beneath her anyways, they had nothing to fear from her in person.

A woman, short and black haired, with the yellow pupils that reminded her of Mistralian natives, was the first to speak up. She was anxious and almost shaky, but the words were forced out of her through Salem's gaze.

"I…My name is Elisa, ma'am."

Elisa… She looked young, almost reminded Salem of… of another servant, from not too long ago.

"Carmen," the woman at her side said. A tall brunette, athletic, from what Salem could gather despite the ankle-long dress.

"Ebon," the line followed, that one a man. He had sunken eyes and a neutral expression, black hair like the first woman.

"Rufus," said the last one. A blonde, short haired man.

Wordlessly, Salem moved to a window, gazed at the mountains. In the distance, the snowstorm was gathering, a wall of ice and fog that covered the horizon.

Her attention was stolen as the holographic monitors came to life, displaying an arena populated by cheering nobles, where a seemingly outdated Paladin model fought a new, sleeker model, painted in black. It was a fairly entertaining fight, and Salem smiled and she realized what was happening. The models were both the same, but one was remotely controlled, while the other had the Grimm innards that gave it the advantage, and a brand new paint job. It was a sham fight, a display for the minor houses that hadn't yet allied themselves to the military.

She sat on the very center of the circular couch, beckoning the servants, "Come, let us enjoy the show!' she said, much to their surprise. The servants were hesitant, but soon followed, flanking.

"Say, who do you believe will win the next fight?" she asked.

Salem's gaze judged their abilities as they spoke. None of them had the touch of Aura, none of them were armed. It was another disappointment, she could welcome some excitement that evening. However, they were fairly obedient, and Salem was in dire need of new ancient Grimm, as well as hybrids.

Perhaps they would make wonderful Grimm.

—❖—

A collection of hot air balloons rose above the clouds, slowly, deliberately. They were enveloped by a lattice of steel cables, and beneath them was one half of a shipwrecked Mirage. It held the half at an angle, so the runway was no longer usable, but the pair of propellers at each side still worked dutifully, both spinning at the same rate.

A moment later, a second airship ascended, mirroring the features of the first.

Inside, corridors were refitted with nets and wooden platforms, rope ladders lead from room to room, some of them from platform to platform. Operators and workers swung from room to room, mitigating their fall by the safety nets. Workers were at all stations, turrets, and engine rooms all working like clockwork

The bridge had been moved to the top of the airship, close to where the main engine fed hot air into the many balloons atop. The semicircle array of monitors, systems and signal blockers had to be freshly reinstalled due to how the ship angled downwards, but it functioned, just barely. The breach had been closed and a new window had been cut into the hull, to give them a view past what would've been the runway. It was enough for their mission, their enemies likely thought the Mirage was either destroyed or out of commission.

In it a pair of Huntresses discussed among themselves:

"You really can't do it?" Weiss asked.

Ruby leaned close, "Whoever installed that killswitch is a major league asshat. I removed the worst of it out, but it still has a poison auto-injector and tracker I can't remove without triggering. We can block the signals but that would just be suspicious, so I duplicated it and right now whoever's monitoring thinks he's at Roman's ship."

Weiss pursed her lips, frustrated. Ironwood's condition truly was out of her control. She necked him closer, prompting the man to leave the shadows in the corner of the bridge.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this? She asked James.

"Yes. I'll go with the scouting party. That way I'll still be of use and there's a good chance we can go under Jacques' radar that way. if he thought anything suspicious was up he'd already have activated it, " James said.

Weiss nodded, hesitated for a moment. It was a difficult decision, but they were at the eleventh hour, and there was no time for half measures, "It'll still be dangerous, especially if they find you end up compromised. But you'll be with Neo and Blake, everything that changed, everything you see and find will be highly valuable information. You'll be armed, but—"

Monitors beeped all around them, no time to review plans. The snowstorm was coming.

Ruby turned to Weiss, "And Weiss, are you positive about this? I know what you said before but the snowstorm is going to knock all of our systems out, everything but the life support. By the time we get there we'll be without Aura Shields"

"I know," Weiss said.

"You know?" Ruby and James both asked, simultaneously.

"Yes," Weiss answered. "We'll fight Atlas without shields."