Remnant DxD

by Dessel Ordo

When an 11 year old Jaune Arc wandered out into Forever Fall hoping to become Remnants youngest huntsman, that should have been it for the foolish kid. Luckily a passing devil saw potential in him and re-incarnated him. Now, 6 years later House Bael has sent him to attend Beacon Academy to learn more about his homeworld, and establish his own peerage. What could possibly go wrong?

33. Chapter 33: Revelations

A/N: I dont own RWBY or Highschool DxD, and dont make a single cent off of writing this. Just in it for the storytelling and feedback.

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The elevator ride down to the Vault drags on worse than it has for years.

There is no promising young lady riding beside him ready to save the world, nor are any of his old friends or confidants sharing the monotony with him. Just the weight of his own failures and the low whir of the elevator's motor slowly lowering him down.

Fortunately, James had been as good as his word.

Nearly half of the Pride of Solitas escort had left for Atlas once the fire and police departments had confirmed that the crisis was over. Granted, many of those vessels were the escort ships–frigates and corvettes–that would not be much use against the Grimm if another incursion were to escalate to the point where the eyesore in the sky is needed. However, James' initial faux pas was only half of the problem. As much as he would like to solely blame James' Valean counterpart for the VNS Thunderhead and Stormwind still being stationed well above the cloud cover–and the Atlesian Mako-class airships service ceiling-every officer above O-7 that had been able to find a reason to speak with him had been violently opposed to a similar de-escalation so long as the Pride is still in Valean airspace during his brief visit to the capitol earlier today. After an hour of incredibly polite non-cooperation he had accepted the Officer corps' promise to take his suggestion that they send up a tender to replace the sabot/gravity dust anti-ship shells with high explosive anti-Grimm ordinance 'under consideration.'

They had also promised to more honestly cooperate with Atlas' forces on security operations for the Vytal Festival. Not that Vale's peacetime military was large enough that enough personnel could be rotated to make a difference. Even drawing from the more numerous Militias that formed the true backbone of Vale's military potential, not too much could be changed. All of the settlements combined could perhaps spare a few platoons worth of soldiers all told. He heaves a sigh, a win is a win, however. He will accept the half of Vale's airfleet on station out of reactionary panic now aiming their guns beyond the perimeter wall instead of the foreign forces in their airspace as success enough. With as little as they truly know of Salem's current plan, those vessels' current station may even prove to be a wise expenditure of force.

The elevator's low droning hum remains the only audible noise in the small chamber as Ozpin's mind continues to turn over the different issues and potential disasters he needs to keep a watchful eye on. Not reaching out to Menagerie had been an oversight on his part. One that, until less than a day ago he thought would be an easily remedied one. He had expected any backlash from the rich and famous, or short-sighted politicians to create an opportunity for reform-minded individuals to make more informed decisions on whom they support. After the White Fang's attack, simply allowing the delegation to remain part of the Festival would burn through most of the political goodwill he has to spare. Had Salem planned for this or was it just a happy accident on her minions' part? Not that he can afford to put the Faunus' situation off any longer; the White Fang have radicalized beyond any hope of salvation. In any case, he can hardly do anything about that directly tonight.

The compartment thumps to a halt and the doors silently slide open as Ozpin steps out. The usual gloom of the mostly-empty space leading up to the empty Vault and the machinery Amber is interred in before it. His footsteps echo sharply as he crosses the cavernous, poorly lit expanse of the subterranean chamber. Azazel has a dozen or so lights–Or rather small magic circles–set up around the pod holding Amber's comatose body, as well as the empty duplicate off to its right.

"Quite the show Salem's patsy and her minions put on earlier." Azazel idly drones as Oz walks into the cone of light surrounding the machine keeping Amber alive, at least until what's left of her powers can be transferred. The Fallen Angel doesn't look away from the pods, all of his focus going into the scattering of magic circles floating near the pod Amber is resting in, each of them a different size and spinning at a different rate.

Ozpin offers a noncommittal hum as he reflexively moves over to check Amber's vitals. "Compared to the clashes we've had in centuries and millennia long gone it really wasn't all that impressive of an incursion." After verifying that the poor girl's condition hadn't worsened he moves to stand next to his newest ally. "The creativity of whichever of Salem's followers masterminded this strike and your… overt showing of power that put an end to it are the only truly noteworthy facets of today's conflict."

Azazel lazily shrugs, two of his magic circles winking out of existence and three more spinning to life and orbiting Amber's pod level with the young woman's forehead. "It really wasn't all that impressive of a display." He asserts with actual modesty. Yes, he had mentioned that he isn't one for violence. Using his abilities on the mostly mindless constructs of an apathetic, absentee god, however, happily fell well within his comfort zone.

Ozpin shoots a conspiratorial glance at the Governor General as a small, knowing grin slides across his face. "Oh, don't act like you didn't enjoy it, Azazel. Beacon's security cameras picked up the grin that was on your face when you made your way back here perfectly well."

"Never said I didn't. It's been a while since I was able to cut loose at all." Azazel counters easily with a devil-may-care grin of his own. "But, seriously, 'Shimmerstorm, BrightBarrage'? I'm no stranger to grandiose names, but I'm a bit surprised that my little bit of showboating caused that much of a stir. Especially considering that a good chunk of the people living here have superpowers stemming from having had their souls weaponized. Poor Amber here could probably manage an attack covering the same area if she were conscious right now and really pushed herself. She'd most likely pass out afterwards, but…"

The Headmaster nods, and starts pacing behind the Fallen Angel. "At full power and properly trained, yes. Fria certainly matched the power and scope of what you did earlier today a few times expressing her... displeasure after Salem had Maria maimed." He pauses to shake his head, "Granted, she had none of the control you displayed, and was all but helpless for a few hours afterwards. If any of the Grimm or mercenaries she had been venting on survived, I suspect she'd have been killed. As it is, I'm almost certain that those outbursts are a large contributor to Fria's current state."

"Fria and Maria?" Azazel prompts, his voice sounding mostly focused on their conversation.

"Respectively, the current Winter Maiden and a Silver-Eyed Warrior who attended Atlas Academy with her in their youth. The former will likely be bedridden by the end of the year after a long life spent fighting Salem's forces and helping the common people." He lets out a sad sigh. "And the latter has been rather difficult for me to keep track of since Salem–and Dummah, I suspect–hired a band of mercenaries and bounty hunters to cut out the locus of her power. She'd always been stubborn, independent and prideful; after her defeat that pride is all she has left, I suppose. All of my attempts to help her have been vehemently rejected, the stubborn old girl."

Azazel lets out a chuckle. "Sounding a bit wistful there, Oz. She an old flame of yours? Not that I can blame you. Huntresses definitely have a certain appeal about them." Ozpin rolls his eyes at that. A gentleman doesn't sleep and tell. Besides, he had an entirely different body and name at the time. Ozpin is young enough to be her son, and had never met the woman. After ceasing his chuckling fit, Azazel moves onto a more serious topic: "So what was that about her being a Silver-Eyed Warrior? Her eye color a big deal?"

Ozpin comes back to a halt next to Azazel, looking through the small window at Amber's scarred form. "More than you might suspect. Silver-Eyed Warriors are a...boon from the Brother of Light, and as close to a direct counter to the Grimm as I've ever found."

Azazel arches a dubious eyebrow, "Uh-huh. What's the catch?" The leader of the Fallen isn't even attempting to hide his mistrust of the Brother of Light's 'benevolence'. Though, to be fair he has neither seen nor experienced the lengths those petty deities would go to to spite one another either. It should take, at most, a handful of anecdotes or pieces of evidence to acclimate him to taking advantage of the Brothers' more useful gifts when they are available.

"Functionally, there is none. According to legend, Silver-Eyed Warriors are born capable of defeating the mightiest of Grimm with but a glance. I personally witnessed Maria turn several to stone in a single flash during her prime." He chuckles. "And Team Stark would complain that any mission that had them beyond the walls for less than a month was 'too easy' once their leader, Summer, started using her gift out in the open. Unlike the Maidens, it's a rare trait passed down from parent to child. Usually, the parent then trains their child to harness the ability. Summer having been taught by her mother, and Maria, by her father."

"Huh. Turning things to stone. That… Sounds an awful lot like a few legends we have back on Earth. Of course, those poor souls could turn anyone into stone, and there wasn't much control involved."

"I assure you, it only works on the Grimm. More than a few have looked ready to use their powers on their spouses or lovers during quarrels, to no avail. And once these warriors know how their powers function, they have very little trouble finding the right mindset to employ them, typically. From antiquity all the way up to the modern era they have remained one of the most potent forces against Salem and the Grimm. Their power was, ultimately both their burden and downfall, however. Hunted to the brink of extinction because of their powers. That could be seen as the 'catch,' as you put it."

Azazel nods, a quick grin and half-chuckle crossing his face at the picture he had painted, though it quickly falls as he finishes his explanation. "Yeah, you mentioned Salem and Dummah went after Maria specifically. They're that big a threat to them?"

"It's more than that: They represent hope, a light in the darkness against the dark tide seeking to swallow Remnant; or legend made flesh–one that does not have to be hidden away for its own safety." Ozpin replies as calmly as he is able. While some of the Crusades he had led against Salem when he had been younger and more fire-hearted had been less than kind to the number of Silver-Eyed Warriors Remnant could boast, their rarity in the modern age had not been his fault. No, Salem and Dummah had methodically and systematically cut down entire family trees, ancient lineages who had shared the burden with Phanuel and himself. Who had raised their children to know of the true fight and their duty. That had called him Uncle or Grandfather despite any potential filial ties being–at best–half a dozen generations removed.

He takes a slow, calming breath, and leaves the fallen to their rest. This is neither the time nor place for that righteous fury to be drawn to the fore. "I have had the pleasure of working with several prodigies alongside the more typical wielders of that power from their number over the last few generations. One of whom started classes at Beacon earlier this year. Her mother is still a fondly remembered alumni amongst my current staff." He can't help but smile as some of young Ruby's antics flit across his mind. "She may have just begun her journey, but I have every confidence that she will go far."

"She's that special, huh?" Azazel asks, a knowing gleam in the Fallen's eye.

The lessons he had taught countless generations of Silver Eyed Warriors racing through Ozpin's mind, it is not difficult to smile. "Oh yes. Though all of them are, really–each in their own way." A stray thought comes to him, spurred on by memory of his first meeting with the Governor-General. "In fact, Azazel, I was thinking of introducing the both of you. Hopefully we'll be able to 'test the waters' on just how well the two of you get along during the Vytal Festival, at least for a first impression. Her name is Ruby Rose, and she has a certain... fondness for weapons; both crafting and modifying them." He spots open interest in the Fallen Angel's purple eyes and lets out an amused chuckle. 'Hook, line and sinker,' as the saying goes. "To call her 'passionate' about them would be a grave understatement. I believe you'll like her quite a bit."

"And with a glowing recommendation like that, I'm looking forward to it already. Gotta say, it's always heaven or hell working with prodigies and the truly gifted. In my experience, at least. I took in one of the latter myself just about a decade back now. Kid isn't much for idle chatter, a total battle maniac." He lets out a wistful, amused chuckle. "It's kind of embarrassing."

"But you can't help but be fond of him all the same." Ozpin warmly intones, knowing the feeling quite well. The look on Azazel's face, and relaxed worry in his posture something he has long since grown used to seeing in mirrors and photographs of himself since he established the Academies all those decades ago.

Azazel nods, his grin more than a bit wistful and more than a bit paternal. "Couldn't be helped. Vali's got a… complicated family history. Couldn't stay with his folks anymore when I found him. Between his bloodline and Sacred Gear, he'd have had a target on his back for the rest of his life even if he tried to lay low, which–yeah, he didn't exactly have that in him back then. I figured that if I took him under my wing–"

"He would at least have a chance to realize his true potential, under your tutelage." Ozpin finishes for his new friend, understanding completely. Oz had suspected that both he and the Governor General would have much in common when they had first met, and being proven right about that is quite pleasant. "Ruby was already an exceptional Huntress-in-Training when I first met her. My decision was solidified when I discovered she had silver eyes. After Amber's attack, I decided that it would be both foolish and irresponsible to simply leave her be and hope that she wouldn't be noticed and targeted as well. She isn't aware of her gift yet, and honestly that is for the best. She should be allowed to enjoy her youth and keep her innocence for as long as possible. Once she has pushed through the acclimation period of being moved ahead a full two years in her schooling, I'll introduce her to Maria."

"Not just protection and training, but a place where they can thrive." The Governor General opines, fatigue bleeds into his usual calm, casual intonation as he busies himself with the scattered Magic Circles circling Amber again. "A shame how the ones who have the potential to do the most good tend to have the harshest starts or wind up dying young without help, isn't it?"

"Indeed." Ozpin nods in agreement, his expression falling slightly. Azazel really had–sadly–been perfectly accurate with that observation. Perhaps it is nostalgia, or a need to share, but the words keep on flowing as Azazel continues to work. "Summer–Ruby's mother, as it happens–seemed to have been living a blessed life when I first met her. The youngest of four daughters in a happy, loving family. Her mother, Georgia, had been a skilled Huntress in her own right. Summer rocketed to the top not long after she began her tutelage at Beacon, handily becoming the best Huntress of her generation, leader of the best team this Academy had forged in generations and a Silver-Eyed prodigy, as well."

"Sounds like she was an impressive young lady." Azazel drawls before his expression sobers, clearly noting Oz's mournful expression. "What happened to her?"

Ozpin lets out a low, tired sigh. "In less than half a decade after they graduated, one of her dearest friends and teammates betrayed Team Stark–abandoning her husband and daughter without so much as a word or note. Taiyang, that woman's partner, fell into a depressive downward spiral and Qrow, Summer's own partner on the team, blamed his Semblance and started only accepting solo work, not wanting to risk Summer. Summer though, she was determined to hold on to whatever shards of her halcyon youth that she could with both hands. She pulled Tai out of his depression, built him back up, even proposed to him. They wound up having a daughter–Ruby. She started taking on missions again, always just close enough to Qrow to 'bump into him' to help out until he caved in and they started working as partners again on and off. I'm… to my shame, not entirely sure what fate befell her. But I have my suspicions." He pauses to collect his thoughts and catch his breath. "She held a great conviction, strength, compassion and talent. One of my best agents in the battle against Salem–the best of the current generation for sure, perhaps in the history of our war–after Phanuel, of course. But her determination led to a constant drive to confront Salem herself, despite my regularly warning her not to–A drive to save the world for her family and future generations which proved too great for her to resist, it would seem…"

"Ah, one of those, eh? Yeah, you really gotta hang onto 'em when you find one that can talk the talk and walk the walk." Azazel observes good-naturedly.

"I had hoped that motherhood would have tempered that drive, grounded her and made the risks connected to the fool's errand she had fixated on seem too great. I have honestly lost count of the number of times Silver-Eyed Warriors, either by my side during the time of grand wars between Salem and myself, as teams or even a brave few on their own, used their powers on Salem. Aside from stunning her, there were no lasting or notable ill-effects. Summer was disheartened when I told her the truth regarding Salem's immortality. She did not like the fact that I hid such a secret but she seemingly came to understand my point of view and soldiered on faithfully and tenaciously for two years, focusing on doing more goodwill where she could. Up until, presumably after fulfilling the mission she had been out on. Afterward she simply… disappeared. And Qrow thoroughly searched the area near her objective, no sign of any struggle. She chose that specific mission then left for her own after completing it. Summer had been quite the strategist on top of all of her other gifts..." Oz tapers off wanly. "It is entirely possible she had been piecing together a stratagem to both confront and employ against Salem behind my back, and had only then found the time to implement it."

Ozpin pauses again, letting out a low sigh of his own and desperately wishing he had a soothing mug of cocoa with him. He muses aloud, offering the best explanations he has developed in the years since his friend's disappearance. "Perhaps she hoped to lift the burden of duty to carry on the fight against Salem from her daughters' shoulders."

"Sounds like she could have given the ladies of the Gremory Devil family a run for their money regarding motherly instinct." His Fallen companion proclaims, though not without empathy. "Wish I could've met her."

"As do I… If she did in fact go after Salem, I can only guess as to what cruel fate befell her. Especially with the Myriad involved..." He plucks his spectacles from his face to massage his closed eyes for a moment, before returning them and continuing. "Despite what Georgia or even Summer's former teammate, Raven, may say, she was not simply a tool or weapon to me. Rather, an ideal that I could aspire to, and a font of courage and pride in what had seemed like an increasingly futile conflict." Azazel turns to face him, understanding now clear on his face. "Yes. Raven Branwen was Taiyang's former partner, first wife and mother to his first daughter. She left Team Stark to rejoin–and lead–the bandit tribe she and her twin Qrow grew up in several years ago. It took Summer and Taiyang nearly two years to break their partners of the habits they'd learned there to start acting like normal, happy and healthy teenagers while they were still my students. To the point that I trusted them enough to bestow a meager portion of my magic reserves to allow the siblings to turn into birds at will."

The Fallen twitches before giving Oz a look of disbelief. "Seriously? So Raven finds out that Salem is a true immortal, and what, she decides to just ditch everyone and everything she knew, including her own kid to play bandit?"

Ozpin's face wilts momentarily before he surmises. "Raven was afraid, especially of losing what she held most dear–though she showed that poorly–and had never truly trusted me. Something broke in her, and she returned to the life she knew best, the one she had–barely–been able to set aside for that of a Huntress, wife and mother with the help of others. That life never truly fit her well. I have only seen her once since her departure, and her brother, Qrow, has told me that she has no desire to see me again or rejoin the cause. She barely tolerates his presence, refers to him as 'traitor' for leaving the Bandit Clan they grew up in, and refuses to speak when he brings up her daughter."

"Charming." Azazel notes acerbically before he pauses. He tilts his head in confusion, and turns to fully face Ozpin. "Wait, if she's a bandit now, why would she visit you of all people, and how did that not end with her in prison or, y'know, dead?"

Ozpin's hand drifts down to his gut, the memory of the displeasure she had awoken him with the night of–what he assumes was–Summer's death. "Her Semblance allows her to open portals to those she has strong emotional bonds with. Once formed they last a lifetime, and she can feel each and every one of them. Specifically the individuals health, and distance from her–movements included. I woke up in agony, and Raven was…" Her first blow had been the hardest, probably rupturing a few organs. He takes a calming breath before continuing. "She was not in a sound state, and the room was nearly pitch black. She was most likely intoxicated on at least one substance, either was or had been crying and utterly furious. I could understand, at best, a third of what she had been saying through the pain and confusion of having been beaten awake during the wee hours of the morning." He pauses for a beat. "But 'Summer' and 'Your fault' were the most frequent things she screamed at me that night, before taking one of her portals back to her tribe. At the end of the next day, Summer had been out of contact long enough to be considered missing in action. Two weeks later, the Search and Rescue mission was removed from the urgent open mission listings for other Huntsmen."

The Governor General's face may as well be carved from stone with how little sympathy Oz can find on his face. "You can either have cake, or eat cake. Didn't she learn that as a kid?" Ironically that was similar to what Phanuel groused to him years ago regarding Raven's attitude. "Don't tell me you're letting her run wild out of guilt. There has to be a limit, Oz."

Ozpin shrugs with a 'what you can do' sort of expression and smiling self-deprecatingly. "That night was why I tried to reconnect with her for as long as I did. I had hoped that if we could not find some level of reconciliation I could at least avoid interfering with any raids of hers that were not simple banditry as she carried on the fight in a... less overt manner."

"Uh-huh…"

"I sincerely thought she was at least trying in her own way. She developed a rule that aligned with the Branwen Tribe's beliefs, saving the ones she holds dear a single time, so they won't come to depend on her and grow 'weak'."

"What."

"And from the reports Qrow had for me on her once they began speaking again, the Branwen Tribe started having orphans brought in and raised by them–as killers, to be sure, but not left to die—"

"You don't say…"

"And some of the more reprehensible crimes often common amongst Bandits not being one of the predations the Branwen inflicted on their victims can actually be seen as a point in their favor—"

"Maybe if you squint, real hard. Please, just stop, Oz." The Fallen interrupts while massaging his brow. "Bad enough she has Maiden powers at her fingertips, I don't need or want to know what kind of twisted shit goes on in her head."

Ozpin continues, regardless. "What I am trying to say is she's one of the lesser evils to contend with, Azazel. My resources have been badly taxed during the past decade fighting our shadow war, and whether she is of sound mind or not, Raven knows how to evade the authorities as well as Salem's forces. Her sole drive, as far as I have been able to discern, is her own survival at this point. Adding how Qrow and Tai may have reacted if I or Phanuel were to have terminated their twin sister and first wife respectively so soon after the loss of Summer made the potential repercussions of actively hunting her far too volatile. Conversely, were the Mistrali Rangers to apprehend her and a trial to be completed–however slim the odds of that happening were–they would accept whatever sentence the jury would have handed down as the just result of the choices she made instead of potentially being driven by grief-fueled spite to use their position as two of the most popular professors at Signal Academy to turn a sizeable portion of the next generation of Huntsmen and Huntresses against me." He will confess that in hindsight, such an event may have been a bit extreme, knowing Tai and Qrow well enough by this point. But he'd been betrayed for less before.

"Yeah, 'the heart wants what the heart wants.'" Azazel's disapproving frown shifts into a far more understanding expression as he sighs and scratches the back of his head. The motion is awkward now that the righteous indignation and fury has drained from his features. "I get it, Oz, believe me, I get it. But I still don't like it."

Neither did Ozpin. But that was then, this is now. "...That said, she wasn't a Maiden before she left. And the Spring Maiden, who typically operates on the continent of Anima where the Branwen Tribe make their home and ply their bloody trade, was little more than a child when she fled our group. Raven had not yet grown too old to...inherit those powers when the young Maiden fled. And you claim to have sensed a power similar to Amber's coming from her."

"She didn't." Azazel deadpans, though the fierce look in his now narrowed eyes makes it clear that he had caught on to what Ozpin is implying loud and clear.

Oz squeezes The Long Memory's handle tightly. "I try not to make assumptions about people, least of all former comrades. However, if she is a Maiden now, she most likely did." He pauses for a moment before coldly quoting, "The weak died and the strong lived, I suppose." Once the Festival has concluded, he will send Qrow on one, final mission to meet with his twin. If he does not return with a satisfactory answer regarding Raven's acquisition of the powers, he fully intends to give Qrow the month off, and do what he should have done years ago–go hunting with Phanuel. He'd accept whatever displeasure Tai and Qrow would express. He'd once more have to be harsh on his old students to prove his point, but for better or worse the wayward Branwen will be brought to task for all she's done.

"She actually subscribes to that kind of dumb bullshit?" Weary understanding washed away by contempt and disgust as the Governor spits out the accusation. Clearly Azazel's far from impressed by Raven Branwen. Ozpin highly doubts that a more complete telling of her rise into the light and subsequent tumble back into the darkness would change that. He really can't say he blames the Fallen. "Jeez. So we have a second rogue Maiden to contend with. Lovely. I'll tell you right now, Oz, just about everyone in the Supernatural community already looking to set up here, or who may want to, absolutely will not tolerate bandits or bringands of any sort. I can safely speak for Michael and the current Devil Kings when I say that our Great War burnt out every last scrap of patience or tolerance the Three Factions have for those sorts of bloody-minded opportunists. If any of them catch wind of her carrying on in their territory like she has for the last decade… Well, little miss Branwen's gonna find out pretty quick that there are worse things out there than Salem."

He closes his eyes and lets out a shuddering sigh. "Look, I've had to 'shoot the dog' more times than I care to count, and had to adopt some extreme measures for my people over the centuries. I've enacted and enforced policies and strategies that I don't think I'll ever really forgive myself for. But killing an innocent for power and committing banditry against helpless villages in a world already nearly overrun by literal nightmare monsters drawn by distress and negativity–because it's the 'food chain?' That's fucked up. Handle it, Oz, or someone else will. And that someone won't be wearing rose-tinted glasses or have memories of the 'good-old-days' to soften the blow."

That actually squares with the gradual decline in banditry attributed to some of Mistral's smaller bandit bands disappearing over the last few years. A few spikes in Grimm activity could easily be indicative of Raven having turned the Branwen Tribe on the other 'weaker' Bandit Clans of Anima. Finally, Raven confronting Qrow regarding whether he had been sent to hunt her down or not, seemingly out of nowhere, several weeks ago…

Between that and Azazel's warning, Oz nods agreeably. He will let Qrow know, out of respect for their friendship, but his well of good faith in Raven has run dry at this point. "I will make certain that Qrow has enough knowledge to properly… avail her of the true situation when I send him to her for the last time. If there is a truly extraordinary set of circumstances behind the current, damning state of affairs surrounding that woman, perhaps fear will be able to pierce the veil of pride and self-preservation where filial love and loyalty to a cause greater than herself failed."

"Good luck to him." Azazel's derisive reply to that promise spoke of how much he believed it possible. He takes on a more thoughtful expression as he turns back to Amber. "So for the Maidens, we've got Fria flirting with a Palliative Care Unit in Atlas; Raven skulking around Mistral; Amber and the leech are here in Vale, what about Vacuo's Maiden?"

Ozpin idly taps his cane on the bare concrete and leans on it, the weight of his years seeming to press down on his shoulders. "Theodore has only informed me she is a young child in his care, the last Summer Maiden having been a reclusive hermit who presumably died of old age. Her identity he guards jealously, even from me."

His companion's voice as he pointedly takes in Amber's disfigurement is dry as the Vacuan desert. "Good call." He pauses and shifts to look back over to Oz, a gentle smirk returning to his face. "Hm. Silver-Eyed Warriors and Maidens, Remnant really doesn't lack for fascinating individuals. You really sold yourself short the night we first met."

Seeing the diversion for what it is, Ozpin offers the Governor-General a half-hearted grin of his own. "With Earth and the Underworld adding more and more of its own remarkable individuals and abilities to what we have built up across the generations, Remnant is swiftly approaching a brighter reflection of the Era when the Brothers still reigned and all of Remnant's children wielded magic openly."

"Can't wait." Azazel quips with eager irreverence.

"I suspect that wait will be brief, Azazel. Intervening as dramatically as you did today, Salem has most assuredly realized that my allies and I are on the move again."

"Expecting her to retaliate then?" Azazel asks–probably–rhetorically. Then again, he could very well be asking honestly. Ozpin very much doubted that Azazel had been acting on a whim when he selected his method of intervention.

Ozpin shakes his head. "I'm more concerned that the Myriad will start moving more openly now that you've made your presence known."

"Pre-emptive strike." Azazel offers succinctly as he shrugs. "I'm honestly surprised it's taken as long as it has for them to show their hand. Dummah comes from a time where humanity had the literal fear of God running through their veins; Angels, Devils and Fallen all slaughtering each other in the open and waging a war of extinction out in the open. I can almost guarantee that they'll be moving openly as soon as or just after Salem's minion's plan is put into motion. Things are gonna get worse before they get better." He pauses, and lets that prediction hang heavily for a moment before continuing. "The best we can do right now is prepare to the best of our abilities, and hope to keep them on their toes–maybe even at each other's throats, if we're very lucky. Anyone willing to do this to another is definitely not gonna be above looking over her shoulder at her so-called allies. And when she reports back to the one holding her leash, Salem and Dummah are gonna start looking for a leak that isn't there. Folks like them just can't help themselves." The Fallen drops his hand, having gestured in disgust at Amber's condition.

Oz nods in agreement. "The more time they waste, the better." he plainly states before returning to the task at hand. "Speaking of preparing…"

Azazel raps his knuckles on Amber's pod, a look of respect on his face. "Life support aside, the machine you have here looks like a system developed in parallel to some of my research into Sacred Gear creation and transference. From what else you've said Atlas is cooking up, I'd love to get in touch with James' head scientist–Polendina, was it?–and talk shop. I mean, an actual android with a soul?" He has to visibly rein his excitement in with a short cough. "Anyways, I can assure you that this'll work…" he nods towards the mass of pods and wires and tubes Pietro had nearly broken his arms falling from his chair several times slapping together at a feverish pace all those months ago.

Ozpin can feel a cold fist slowly closing around his chest. "But...?"

Azazel's expression turns serious. "I can give you the numbers if you'd like, but… we really should only focus on the life support aspects of this." He pats on the metal side of the pod. Ozpin motions for his new Fallen friend to continue. "Transfering the powers only has around a twenty five percent fail rate, I'd predict. It's not as clean as some of the Sacred Gear extractors I've seen, but still a good deal more brute force and sloppy than anything I'd willingly subject a living being to."

"Irregardless of species?" Ozpin prompts, feeling something twist in his gut from the way Azazel had described a seventy five percent rate of success..

Azazel shakes his head, "Humans or Faunus, for sure." He stops to think to himself. "Remnant-born humans anyhow, but diving into what makes them different from Earth humans is something for later. The Maiden powers would be incompatible with a Devil or Fallen Angel, as far as I can tell. I'll assume the same of a regular Angel to be on the safe side. At least where the transfer is concerned. Any other species I'd need to look at a wider sample group before I can give a reasonably accurate answer about compatibility for the powers."

Ozpin turns The Long Memory over in his hands. "I suppose I'll need to start looking at some of the other candidates then. Have you been able to discern anything else about how the transference process would work?" He purposely pays little heed to Azazel's disbelieving stare.

"Aside from the fact that it'll hurt like hell to the point the inheritor will probably wish they'd just died instead of getting the power?" Ozpin nods at the sarcastic query and Azazel sighs, disgruntled. "Fifty-fifty chance that it will either kill Amber or shift her consciousness over into the new half-Maiden's head. If she does make the jump with the powers, I'd give it a one-in-three chance that it'll be Amber in a new body instead of her and the new Maiden sharing a body for the rest of their joint lives. That's one of the only real good outcomes, by the way. There's a reason Sacred Gears with souls are contained in vessels of power instead of directly within their hosts' bodies." Azazel's pointed stare doesn't falter, the old wizard–knowing exactly what he is implying–does his absolute best not to flinch.

The Headmaster let's a tired sigh slip past his lips. He's all too familiar with multiple consciousness sharing a body; before his had started to acquire a true metaphysical weight to it, they hadn't always merged by the time the body perished. Sadly, his only recourse now is to stay the course, lest Amber, and her power, be consumed entirely by her attacker. "At the risk of sounding needy, can you or your people do anything to improve the odds of success?" Oz forces himself to ask, the guilt of necessity weighing down every word.

"About that…" Azazel begins as he starts pacing. "Look, Oz, we're both obviously against this whole thing, especially since Amber's death is probably the best case scenario if you actually go through with this. Agreed?" At Oz's subdued nod, he enthusiastically claps his hands together. "So! I can do you one better: With the technology we have back at Grigori Headquarters, we can potentially get poor Amber back on her feet and in fighting shape again, and avoid the shitshow connected to this machine's metaphorical 'big red button' altogether."

That causes Ozpin to slightly perk up. The poor girl's pitiful state isn't weighing on him as heavily as it has been Qrow, but it is just one more failing heaped onto the mountain of them he'd amassed over his long life. However..."The fact that you haven't already done so tells me there are certain...considerations to be made."

The Fallen Angel nods, a slight scowl on his face, his stride not breaking. "I can transfer the necessary equipment and personnel to one of my labs on Earth ahead of time. As soon as we can properly focus on the project, we'll need to move her to that location to try the procedure I have in mind. But from the data I've gathered, even using Transportation Magic Circles and a few other preservative magic techniques to just teleport her to another safe location here on Remnant–," He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. "The risk of these damned powers shifting fully to her little bitch of an assailant during the nearly guaranteed brief flatline we'd get are too big to be worth the risk. Even trying to tamper with or modify this machine in any way poses a risk. With Salem and Dummah's plans likely revolving around the Vytal Festival, I'm gonna have to strongly advise against it any time soon." Phanuel had said something similar, at least as far as transfering Amber is concerned.

Stomping down on his disappointment, Ozpin nods. "Combining all that with the usual stresses of the Festival, and diplomatic Supernatural introductions who may wish to establish a presence on Remnant… it would likely be for the best to put off moving and, hopefully, saving Amber until after the Festival."

"Agreed." Azazel rumbles, clearly not any happier about the state of things concerning Amber. Not that there has been anything else that could be done about that for months now. Azazel slows to a stop next to Oz, gazing in at the comatose, nearly dead Fall Maiden. "Though, I am curious as to why you tied so much of your power up in such an arbitrary, unpredictable and hard to control system."

"The manifestation of the Maiden system as it is was only partly my doing, Azazel." Ozpin shoots back more tersely than he had intended. Talking about Raven and the fates that had befell his students and allies of the past almost never failed to put him into a sour mood. His new ally takes it in stride, thankfully.

Azazel raises his hands in a mocking display of surrender. "No judgement, honest. Believe me the Sacred Gear system is just as wiley. You can't imagine some of the shit a few users have gotten up to and still do back on Earth. Especially when things are looking particularly bad."

Appreciating the gesture, Oz takes a slow, calming breath. "The power likely would have–mostly, flowed back to me were it not for one mistake."

"Only mostly?" The Fallen leader keenly focusing on Ozpin as he begins to explain the situation, curiosity clearly piqued.

Ozpin nods. "Yes, the power I spent on the Vaults was never going to be recoverable. Tying each Maiden to a Vault, and as a result, a Relic, made the system vulnerable to... manipulation."

Azazel shakes his head. "Guessing it wasn't Salem who decided to make a mess of things?" It isn't so much a question. Ozpin knows the Fallen leader well enough by this point that he's aware Azazel would have held his peace and listened if he didn't already have a good idea as to what the answer is.

Ozpin shifts The Long Memory off to his left hand, and rests his right on Amber's pod. "The Relics are creations of the Brother Gods. Those beings are... capricious, at best. Everything they made has some limitation, or rule, or set of requirements which must be satisfied in order to use or activate them, the Relics included. Some, like Creation or Knowledge, are easy and safe enough to use. With the amount of power I invested in the first four Maidens, the Brothers' influence was… substantial." Being a devout believer in the Brothers once, Phanuel had to spend quite a long time convincing Oz of their sheer apathetic nature and be able to speak ill of them, let alone think such thoughts.

Azazel scoffs at that. "So the bastards are still making a mess of things centuries after they left?"

"Millennia. I was not exactly in a state of opposition with my former paramour immediately after my current, parasitic existence began."

Azazel rolls his eyes and lightly swats the back of Ozpin's head at the self-deprecatory tone he'd taken. 'Don't you start' being the unspoken message. "Fine, millennia after they did Remnant the biggest favor of all and left it." It's relieving to see that the Brothers' actions bothered Azazel so much. It paints an inspiring picture of Earth's supernatural factions.

Hiding a small smile, Ozpin purposely resists the urge to fix whatever hair the Fallen Angel had displaced or rub at the lightly stinging spot on his head. He does readjust his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. He'd be lying if he said the ease with which they seem to have fallen into a routine isn't encouraging for what is in store for their future as friends and allies. After a few minutes of comfortable silence Azazel's new scroll starts ringing. As the Fallen Angel steps back to answer it, Oz leans towards the life-support pod, resting a gentle hand upon the surface "Just a few more weeks, Amber. Hang in there." He mutters lowly to the comatose girl.

"Good news, Oz! The Winchester kid sang like a bird." Azazel crows chipperly a few moments later. "Rojoa'll have a briefing for us by tomorrow morning. Not much we can officially or legally act on from the sound of it, but we'll at least know some of what we're going to be going up against when Salem's cronies make their move."

_-*R-DxD*-_

Weiss' outburst buys Jaune a bit of time to order his thoughts a bit better.

Ruby is gaping at her partner, a cross between hurt and betrayal edging into her features where shock isn't still dominant.

Yang is scowling at the heiress in a way he hasn't seen her since the first few weeks at Beacon when–save for the sisters–most of Team RWBY had been anything but harmonious.

Blake has that same silently judging expression she'd been wearing almost constantly until that weekend where she ran off at the start of last semester. She seems torn between directing it at Weiss and his Peerage. Jaune is pretty sure that if her head wasn't wrapped in a towel her ears would be pinned to her skull right now.

"Weiss…?" Ruby looks as though she either misheard or dearly wishes that she had.

"Care to run that by us again, Ice Queen?" Yang growls out, any confusion or uncertainty drowned out by naked outrage.

Weiss' righteous indignation vanishes as the gravity of what she'd just admitted to sinks in and she goes even paler, shrinking in on herself under the combined weight of her teammates' feelings of betrayal and ire. Not helped that she's physically the smallest person on her team. "I-I just kept seeing the Summoning Circles on the CCTNet and got curious. It seemed stupid and foolish and I didn't want you three to think less of me for it, so when you were all out I printed one off and when I used it Jaune's 'Vacuan friend'–"derision and disappointment strong on her voice as she, awkwardly, throws up a set of air quotes–"Ravel, rose out of the Summoning Circle."

The leader of Team JNPR scratches at the back of his head. "You never did tell me why you decided to summon Ravel instead of me."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure she could have gotten any one of us. You and Pyrrha were only using the gimmick contracts for killing Grimm before Renny and me got reincarnated." Nora quips airilly.

Dammit, Nora!

From there it devolved into a mess of everyone talking over each other and wildly gesturing in the space of moments:

"R-reincarnated?" Ruby stutters, looking worriedly at Jaune and his peerage, whether it was out of concern or some wild flight of fancy isn't clearly apparent.

"One of those circles where you have to sell your SOUL!? What were you thinking!?" Blake hisses at the heiress.

Ren shakes his head. "Despite what you might have heard, Devils don't actually take souls for contracts. Well, not anymore."

"You don't get to deflect, Arc!"

Yang shifts her glare to Ren, "With how much Blake reads, she probably didn't hear anything. You also just gave yourselves away to her by dropping your disguises."

Ruby is quivering where she sits as everyone talks over each other, head bouncing rapidly between the different conversations, eyes frantic and wide. "W-what do you mean, anymore?"

Before the chaos could continue to unfold, purple flames spring to life around Pyrrha's head in a facsimile of her typical circlet. The hissing shriek of her Sacred Gear has all three humans and the faunus girl flinching back and falling silent. Jaune and the rest of his peerage all turn to look at the Invincible Girl, light blushes on their faces. "I'm sorry." She camly breaks the ensuing silence with a somber expression as the flames dissipate. Scraps of the now ruined towel fall to the couch around her, and she fishes a scrunchy out of her pajama pocket to secure her now dry hair into a quick and efficient low ponytail. Yang and Blake share a brief, jealous look, both of them lingering on the towels spread across shoulders and wrapped around the others still sodden locks. "Maybe if we started by explaining the basics, the four of you could ask your questions a bit more calmly?"

Yang rolls her eyes, arms crossing belligerently under her chest. "Oh, the four of us, or just three? Since, y'know, Weiss has been covering for you the whole time?" She glares daggers at the Schnee heiress who can't seem to meet her gaze. Ruby shifts while looking between both her sister and best friend, at a loss for what, if anything, to say.

"It wasn't my secret to tell, Yang." Weiss protests softly. The blonde scoffs angrily, rolls her eyes and turns away to glare at Jaune. She starts tapping her foot and drumming her fingers on her elbows, biceps flexing in barely-restrained anger and suppressed aggression, clearly waiting for someone else to get the ball rolling.

Blake sighs, takes a deep breath then gives the Devils in the room a guardedly curious look. "So, you four aren't a type of bat Faunus?" Nora snorts out a giggle at that. Blake only stares her down and the ginger falls silent again after an awkward cough.

Jaune takes in a deep breath, and starts talking. Devils, Angels and Fallen Angels. Magic and other worlds. The mess of feudal politics that–barely–keeps it all running and just how many other, smaller or less influential pantheons are either keeping to themselves or looking for a way to make a comeback. A demonstration of Devil wings, followed by some curious poking and prodding come into play. Honestly, explaining it all has kind of started feeling like old hat to him by now. Skepticism is replaced by careful curiosity, but the undercurrent of fear, mistrust and wariness is still there by the time he's finished.

"Questions so far?"

For a moment the silence hangs. Weiss looks unsatisfied, Blake cautiously contemplative, Ruby slightly overwhelmed and Yang painfully, forcibly calm. "So, the four of you were killing people today because of a war that's technically not over and has been going on since before our great-grandparents were twinkles in their parents' eyes, and at some point between then and now made its way to Remnant." It isn't a question, but Jaune offers his fellow blonde a nod. Reductive almost to the point of condescension maybe, but he can't honestly say–or even imply–that she isn't right. "Just to be clear, you guys didn't start that fight?"

Ren shakes his head, "They started actively flaring their power shortly after the Breach began. Probably trying to lure us in. The carnage was, at best, an afterthought."

Ruby shifts back and forth, hands clasped together in her lap, not really making eye contact with anyone. "Are you sure you couldn't have, you know, talked to them? Calmed them down?"

Jaune purses his lips together, looking for a gentle way to explain the situation and not able to find one. "Ruby, the pile of dead civilians, Huntsmen, police and soldiers was already there when we got to them." The prodigy winces and falls silent at that, her sister resting a–hopefully–calming hand on her knee.

Blake snakes a hand up into her hair before unwrapping the towel from her head, sliding the second from her shoulders, wadding them up and launching them into the hamper the long-haired students living on this floor had set up in the common room for exactly that purpose. "You said that us finding you locked in a fight to the death wasn't the worst way we could find out. I'm almost afraid to ask, but..."

"You could have died–like Pyrrha!" Nora interjects, again grinning far too wide for such a serious situation, and REALLY not helping. On one hand, Nora having acclimated to her new life as a Devil to the point that she can joke about how Pyrrha–along with her and Ren–had died before becoming Devils is a good thing. On the other, it isn't helping ease Team RWBY into it–well, lessen the shock of it, at least. Hopefully adding them to his Peerage hasn't been entirely cleared from the metaphorical table.

The redhead in question pinches the bridge of her nose. "Nora, that isn't how either of us found out that Jaune is a Devil. We'd known for well over a week before that."

"It is how you became a Devil, though." Ren notes, earning him a bright smile from Nora, who scooches over to nestle into his side. "Jaune hadn't really explained everything at once to us."

Jaune rolls his eyes, "I'm sorry if I was distracted by the regular attempts on my life that were happening at the time." Ren shoots a mild, more-or-less playful side-glare his way at that.

Ruby is the first to try to interject into Team JNPR's sudden bout of internal banter. The look on her face having nearly reverted to one of complete devastation. "Wait, Pyrrha died...?"

The champion shifts a bit uncomfortably at that, before snaking her arm around Jaune's. She offers Ruby a small, comforting smile. It's probably as much for her own sake as it is for the prodigy's, if Jaune is reading their body language right and being completely honest with himself. "I got better."

Ruby relaxes but only slightly. She takes a slow, shudderingly shaky breath, closes her eyes as she holds it in, then exhales. "'Reincarnation… Into a Devil?" Her voice tilting upwards in the sort of questioning manner that speaks of confused shock. Yang and Blake turn to Ruby in surprise–the latter more so than the former–while Weiss shoots a small, proud smile at her partner. Let it never be said that Ruby Rose is anything short of quick-witted when she needs to be.

Jaune adds a smile of his own to Weiss' with a nod, "That's right."

"Hold up, you can bring people back from the dead? How?" Yang nearly shouts–just barely–holding on to enough of her admittedly minimal self control. Fortunately, he'd set up a few subtle magic circles to prevent eavesdropping after everyone had trickled in. Having to use memory modification spells to nip that catastrophe in the bud would most likely be the final nail in the coffin of their friendship. Ren and Pyrrha had both cleaned up some of the sloppier bits of his work too. If he didn't know they'd been keeping in touch with Coriana, Misteeta, Kuisha and Akeno for their studies into magic, and it wasn't absolutely critical that no one interrupt this talk, he might have been embarrassed by that.

"It's more complicated than that, and it has to be within hours of the person's death with a mostly intact corpse. Let me start from the beginning. After a few thousand years of total war, the Devils, Fallen and Angels had all been reduced to less than half of the population they'd had before the War started by the time the dust started settling. Us Devils, well, one of our new leaders after the Civil War–"

Spotting a trio of confused and curious faces, Pyrrha interjects this time. "The younger generation of Devils realized that part of the reason most of the rest of the Supernatural community was either staying neutral or supporting Heaven was that the old Devil leadership enjoyed being evil for the sake of it. They figured a more moderate, approachable government might improve their situation."

Blake huffs before interjecting, "I'm pretty sure it was more than just what other governments thought that motivated them to rebel." She'd know a thing or two about that, Jaune supposes. Poking at that, tonight at least, would probably not be a particularly good idea. Hopefully she'll let him pick her brain about her own experience trying to affect real change in a society–irregardless of degrees of success–some other time. If he doesn't mess this talk up at least, that is.

"There was, but we can have a history lesson later if you're still interested." Jaune drones out. "But to answer Ruby and Yang's questions, Lord Ajuka Astaroth–Beelzebub, now that he's one of the Devil Kings–developed the Evil Pieces. Partly to bolster the Devils' numbers, and partly to help circumvent the low birth rate Devils have."

"Evil Pieces?" Blake dryly prompts, ears flicked slightly forward and eyes narrowed. Yang is looking particularly impatient for him to just answer her original question.

Jaune offers a shrug. "Not everyone who thought that the original Great Satans–Or Devil Kings–were right or liked living in the society they'd built was fanatical enough to side with them in the Civil War, or dumb enough to not either surrender or switch sides once it became clear who was going to win. A name feels like a concession, and isn't that hard to explain away when people ask with a bit of history." He pauses to take a breath as Blake leans back into the couch her team is on again, still looking guarded and uncertain, but it's an improvement. "I couldn't explain all the specifics to you girls even if I could remember them, but I can at least tell you how it works. Any living thing with a soul can be turned into a Devil using them–a select few individuals gaining different power boosts from the process–and, provided that the corpse is fresh and undamaged enough it can serve as a one time pass to come back from the dead as a Devil."

The disappointment from Ruby and Yang is palatable. He can't help but offer a quick, but heartfelt 'sorry.'

Yang waves him off, with a mumbled, "Always a catch."

Silence hangs for a few minutes, and this time it's Weiss who finds herself breaking it. Hopefully she won't agitate her teammates again. "If you don't mind me asking, how is it that Pyrrha is the one who was killed? She's–I'm sorry, I know you don't like going by your title or putting your fame first, Pyrrha, but it needs to be said–She's the Invincible Girl." Pyrrha frowns at that, and looks away from her for a moment, which Weiss takes to run a hand through her towel-wrapped hair. Finding it about as dry as she can hope for, so soon after a shower she unravels the towel, loosely folds it into a bundle she can deposit in the hamper when their conversation is finished.

Pyrrha lets out a small sigh and shifts her gaze back to Weiss. "I was prideful and foolish. Jaune had told me–all of us who are in the peerage now–just how dangerous the Fallen Angels and other supernatural beings could be. I overheard Cardin talking to who I thought was his Fallen master. I followed them to where they were, apparently, going to meet. I let my team know where I had followed them to, then went to confront them myself." The summary of the events that had led up to her death coming out both haltingly and shot through with a self-deprecatory tone to match her unwillingness to meet any eyes in the room.

Blake grimaces, "Their boss beat you, then..." She trails off, understanding clear as day in her tone. From the wary looks on the rest of Team RWBY's faces, they remember the fight with Suriel and his goons vividly.

Pyrrha nods her head. "Me, a seventeen year tournament fighter whose foes before that night hadn't been able to best me on skill or outmaneuver my swordsmanship thanks to my Semblance, against what was probably a centuries old Fallen Angel. The age difference alone meant that the weakest he could be physically was probably an order of magnitude above the strongest I could naturally become as a human Huntress, add in the fact that his minimum of decades worth of experience outstrip my own handful of years, and that he barely had any metal on him... " Nora waggles her eyes and gestures at her crotch–Okay, gross, Nora–as Pyrrha trails off, earning her another exasperated sigh and shove from Ren. "He toyed with me, then exsanguinated me not too long after Jaune and the rest of my team arrived."

"You mean he...tied you down and bled you out?" Yang interjects, disturbed.

Jaune shakes his head. "I didn't count, but if I was a betting man I'd say he broke her skin a thousand times during their 'fight'." he throws up air-quotes around the last word, getting a blush and wince from his partner and girlfriend. "Snapped his fingers, called out his techniques name and every last drop got pulled out of her less than a minute after we barged into the abandoned warehouse they were all in." Yang goes deathly pale, and Ruby utterly stills at that. "Bastard's dead now, but that was just what a two-winged Fallen can pull off, and he had a few other tricks on top of that."

Blake casts a worried look at the sisters, shifting her weight, and folding her left leg up under her body, the right now stretching out into the space between the couches. "Does the number of wings mean something?"

Weiss could answer that. However, not wanting to further antagonize her teammates by putting her other foot in her mouth, she decides to let one of the Devils field the answer. She'd like to talk to Jaune about so-called 'heroes' but she knows she's in enough trouble with Ruby without going behind her back regarding people who haven't actually done anything as far as the prodigy is likely concerned to really deserve suspicion. Then again, with how… decisively his Peerage had dealt with the threat that had been Suriel and how effectively they had maintained secrecy regarding their status as Devils. Furthermore, Weiss, begrudgingly, has to admit that she isn't sure if she knows what precisely qualifies as suspicious as far as Supernatural groups go. Brothers help her, the only way she'll be able to get used to any of this will be continued exposure to it all. She really isn't sure how she should or does feel about that...

Ren is the one to rise to the query. "Angels have at least one pair of wings, and can grow as many as a dozen wings total. The more they have, the older and more powerful they are. One power they all share is the ability to summon and wield weapons typically blades or spears of light."

Yang inhales sharply as her eyes widen. "The Barrage…" Team RWBY definitely had been impressed and frightened by the attack that laid waste to the massive hoard of Grimm that had made their way into Vale in mere moments. Even JNPR–Jaune included–are ill at ease from even the mention of it. Clearly for different reasons, but that they had been shaken as well will likely go a long way to re-humanize them in her teammates eyes.

Jaune shifts uneasily, "Right…" He shares a look with his team. "We're not sure if it was a Fallen or an Angel, but given how hostile the Fallen we've been fighting on and off all year–alongside the fact that they went so far as to try to weaponize the Grimm, I'm personally leaning more towards an Angel than a Fallen. Still...Whomever fired off the attack that ended today's incursion makes it clear that they aren't with whoever it is Suriel was working for, but it isn't a guarantee that they are on our side either."

"...You mean, your side." Ruby sternly corrects him as the rest of the room looks at her, startled. "Whoever they were, they were pretty careful to keep from attacking or killing people, even the White Fang." She points out, a bit of her usual optimistic conviction making itself known. Worst of all, he can't contradict her without drawing more of her ire, especially with the silver-eyed girl practically daring him to do exactly that. Figures the leader of Team RWBY wouldn't see someone who'd helped a city full of people during a Grimm attack that way, but still… 'Your side.' Ouch. That is fair, though. Ruby is making it clear as day that her team isn't picking any one faction's side in a war that, ignoring Suriel's group, hasn't boiled over onto Remnant, yet. He needs to send his report to Sairaorg who can hopefully do some digging on this so-called 'Myriad' faction of the Fallen Angels as soon as he can.

Yang shrugs but looks like she agrees with her sister. Weiss bites her lip, lost in thought. The Faunus in the room is focused on another detail regarding the Barrage entirely.

"Please don't tell me that that was just a six-winged Angel." Blake presses, clearly not having missed how many wings Suriel had had. At least that is what Weiss thinks had prompted the Faunus' question–they get along better now than they had at first, but she's still easily the teammate she knows the least. The notion of beings wielding that level of power fighting an actual war is...horrifying, to say the least. Being on the edge of it and not being the target had been harrowing enough for her. But to know that someone capable of that actively wanted her dead and was going to do their best to see it done? Her experience today had somehow managed to make her entire lifetime knowing that the White Fang wanted her dead or worse, seem small.

The blond King is quick to set the record straight. "Not all Angels make it to a dozen, not even most. But at four wings, which is a fairly common level to reach, only me, and maybe Pyrrha could take one of them on in a straight up fight right now. Suriel–the one you girls saw me fight today–killed Pyrrha and orchestrated Ren and Nora's murder before he got his second set of wings. If Pyrrha wasn't my Queen, I honestly don't think she'd have even had a shot at him if something else had been able to demand my attention in the fight you four saw today between how short of a time she's been a Devil and he'd been alive." He pauses, Yang shaking her golden locks out of her own towel before slinging it across the room into the hamper as well. "Six to eight is the most your average Angel ever grows. At ten–which is the minimum an Angel would need to have to pull off the Brightstorm with that level of precision–you are dealing with someone in a high leadership position. Only a handful of Angels from each generation ever make it to a full dozen."

Ruby, looking more or less recovered, blinks in obvious confusion.. "Queen?...I thought Nora was...Queen of the Castle?" At least her best friend is starting to grow more accepting of the situation, and getting better about her social awkwardness, as well. But Weiss can tell Ruby is still taut with wariness of the Devils in the room. And from the way she restrains herself from glancing at Weiss, she can tell Ruby's mistrust has extended to her. At the start of the school year she would have thought that wouldn't bother her all that much. Now though? It cuts her to the quick.

Nora snorts. "Oh, I still am. Jaune was talking about Peerage stuff. Details you probably don't need to worry about that much right now."

Yang glowers at the team sitting on the couch opposite theirs, her eyes still their usual lilac, barely. "No. No deflections. We don't need the whole thousands-of-years rundown, but it's pretty damn clear that there's more to it than just a less fun way to make more Devils, and a handy way to dodge death once."

Jaune calmly nods, half bends over and starts reaching around near his feet. After a few moments, Pyrrha raises her free hand, and the metal case the blond Devil has worn on his hip since their first day at Beacon raises up onto his lap a light black film coating it until it the entire way up and over. He offers his partner a quick smile and mutters a quick 'thank you,' before popping it open. "Right, it's based around chess. There's a reason! I promise I'll get to it quicker if you let me show and tell." He pauses, and Yang makes an impatient 'go on' sort of gesture into the silence. "Starting from the base, you have Pawns. Aside from all of the benefits of being a Devil–longer life, better immune system, greater physical and magical potential–that's about it."

Ruby fidgets in her seat awkwardly, Blake narrows her eyes, Yang rolls hers and Weiss can feel herself leaning in as Jaune continues. "The back line pieces are all, nominally, worth about four pawns each. First you have knights, who have massively increased speed, along with the reflexes and senses needed to, you know, use that without running into everything." Ruby snorts out an irreverent giggle, probably flashing back to when she was learning to control her Semblance. It doesn't last long, but he is coaxing some semblance of normalcy out of them.

"Rooks get waaay stronger and tougher than a Devil normally would be." Nora interjects, flexing her free arm with a grin as Jaune puts the crimson horse he had been holding up for one of his remaining castle-like game pieces.

Blake nods her understanding at the bombastic ginger. "The dumpster."

"Wasn't really that heavy for me." Nora shoots back, free arm stretching out in a casual 'what are you gonna do about it' sort of gesture.

Ren nudges Nora again, keeping her from–well, she's Nora. "Bishops receive a similar boost, but to their magical power and potential rather than physical." Again, Jaune puts the piece he had been holding up away to switch it out for the one currently being described.

When no one interrupts he puts the piece away, and closes his carry-case. "Finally, a Queen receives the combined benefits of Rooks, Knights and Bishops to an even greater degree." Pyrrha offers a grin, wave and her–by now–usual 'hello again' greeting as Jaune trails off.

"So the other purpose of this system is to keep what's left of the Devils from wiping each other out over ancient rivalries and petty feuds?" Blake asks dryly, her voice not technically dipping down into condescension, but still far from impressed at the picture that's being painted.

Jaune mutters a quick affirmative. Easiest way to avoid putting his foot in his mouth.

Weiss squints her eyes. "And how well is that system working, Jaune?" She's pretty sure she knows the answer, but has–by now–long and well learned her lesson about jumping to conclusions.

Jaune shrugs his shoulders at her question, not looking particularly positive or pleased. "I mean, we still get 'tragic accidents,' suspicious deaths and missing persons. But not any more than you'd expect out of, say, an optimistic fantasy novels take on a feudal society. At least since I was old enough to pay attention to things like that and read between the lines, I was kinda young when I got reincarnated." He pauses for a beat as he takes in Weiss' appraising, judgemental expression. He swallows and hurries along. "You also get some 'accidents' during Rating Games mixed in with the actual tragedies, but for the most part…" Again he trails off, not so much the uncertainty of a man trying to protect a flawed system as one doing his best to make the shortcomings of an otherwise functional one seem palatable

Blake, clearly either isn't swayed, or doesn't care for his rationalization. She rolls her eyes before picking up her line of questioning like she hadn't just been interrupted. "So the 'King' is the leader of whatever it is you call a… Chess set of Devils–"

"Peerage." Pyrrha kindly interjects, getting a quick glance of acknowledgment from the Faunus girl.

"–is a noble or someone who doesn't need a power boost to keep all of the others in line?"

Jaune's face twitches but nods, "Normally."

"Normally?" the raven-haired girl dryly repeats, having noticed his reaction and not willing to let such an obvious tell go. Not tonight at least.

"Yeah, I'm... kind of an exception. If you want I could tell you more about how I got to where I am later but for now..." Jaune trails off, looking like he'd rather not tell that story. If Weiss were a betting girl she'd put money on the big oaf admitting he had been stupid at least four or five times when she finally does get around to dragging his honest history out of him.

Pyrrha heads her off before she can say a word. "Usually the King is a natural born Devil from one of the Pillars, or an incredibly dedicated Reincarnated who put in decades of work and has several powerful and influential friends. Not one who was reincarnated less than a decade ago."

Jaune shoots a quick, thankful grin at Pyrrha for giving him a way around telling what Weiss would assume is either an embarrassing or difficult tale to recount. "Once a King has a complete set of pieces they can compete in Rating Games." Ruby echoes the title in a clear question when Jaune pauses to take a quick breath. "Partly a way for Devils to settle grievances without killing each other, partly a way to show off and gain prestige. There's a few different variations on the rules, but they're almost always put on live broadcast in the Underworld–complete with interviews and press campaigns before and after when more famous Devils are involved." He pauses, shooting a quick apologetic glance at his partner "If you've seen Pyrrha do it before or after a big enough fight or tournament, it happens around a Rating Game. At least a big one."

Pyrrha's grimace makes it pretty clear that that is news to her, and that she isn't looking forward to it. It's beyond unfortunate that Pyrrha will be compelled to continue living a lifestyle she despises, but at least she'll have friends, Weiss supposes. Maybe, given time, she will be able to find a way to enjoy it again.

"So… tournament battle fights. Huh. Is it, like, just for bragging rights or do the winners get some sort of prize too?" The young, crimson-fringed girl asks, shifting just enough that Yang's hand falls from her knee. The blonde casts a concerned glance at her sister before leaning back into the couch, arms draped across the back of the piece of furniture, one brushing her sister's shoulders, the other her partner's.

Ren shrugs, "It depends, Rating Games also have their own tournament scene so obviously there is some form of prize for the winner, but casual games normally have both sides offer some sort of stakes to be claimed by the winner. The one Rating Game we've had the time and reason to watch since becoming devils, was over an arranged marriage." While Yang and Ruby are both making shocked and dismayed noises, Weiss tries to explain from what Ravel had told and shown her. That, unfortunately turns the sisters' ire back to her, especially when she tries to explain that no, she can't show them the same recording without the express approval of a ranking member of both Peerages. Blake shrugs internally at that comparatively small revelation. Jaune had said it was a feudal society.

"You've been mentioning all of the positives to becoming a Devil. What are the actual drawbacks?" The black-haired Faunus breaks through the hubbub by–slightly–raising her voice. This, Weiss will confess to being especially interested in. Ravel, still coming to terms with her brother's uncouth behavior, was likely not the best source of knowledge on the downsides to Devil-hood and society.

Jaune offers a vague shrug. "Well, you'll need to increase your training regimen by a lot if you want to get anywhere near your full potential in a reasonable amount of time. Unless you're fine waiting, potentially, decades to centuries for the increase in power to occur naturally through fights and contracts, that is. Then there's physically acclimating to the changes. A pair of wings is just the start of that." He clears his throat–it's probably starting to get pretty dry by now–and cautiously continues. "Once you've been reincarnated you're considered part of that Devil's household and Devilkind itself, so you'll probably wind up inheriting some enemies."

"Angels and Fallen Angels." Ruby morosely supplies. Bless her leader's heart; if Weiss could guess, Ruby doesn't like the idea of a war of extinction having even been possible. Blake clearly doesn't enjoy the thought either, but the tired, sad expression on her face is enough to let the Heiress discern that she believes it. The White Fang had taught the both of them some rather harsh lessons while they were still young. Though neither of them can imagine such a war being waged for thousands of years.

"Not just them!" Nora pipes up again,"Devil politics involves a lot of blood-pride. So, for us at least, that means that guys like the Old Satanists hate us despite, ya know, not even knowing that we're Devils or that we even exist, and the Great King Faction… Well, they won't try to kill us, not out in the open, anyway, but if they can make our lives harder without going out of their way too much..." She trails off with a shrug.

Weiss double takes. "Excuse me, the who and the what?" she snaps. Oh, they must have finally gotten to one of the things she hadn't already known about. Or at least something that she didn't feel she'd known enough about. A small, vindictive part of Blake's mind–one she really knows she should be working on fixing–is more than a little amused at the Heiress' shocked distress, and just a bit pleased as that means she hadn't already been sitting on all the answers.

"It's more complicated than that, Nora." Jaune grouses as he makes a placating gesture at Weiss with his free hand, and calmly answers. "Basically, the Old Satan fanatics want to go back to how things were before the current government took over some 500 years ago. They want Devils to go back to wishing for things like world domination and just being creatures of evil." Seeing the mixed expressions of wariness and horror on Team RWBY's faces, he moves quickly to clarify the facts for them. "The survivors were rooted out, and forced to go to ground decades ago. They don't really have any standing in modern Devil society and they're to be apprehended or killed whenever they try to stir up trouble again. As for the Great King Faction...It was founded at the end of our Civil War by the then Head of the Bael Clan, Zekram Bael. They want to maintain the idea of the Underworld ruled by nobility among the pureblood High-class Devils. But aside from making a lot of noise, they haven't really done anything too outlandish. So, no big loss, really." He sounded so sure regarding the 'Great King' bunch… So, a society with more extremists and supremacists than Remnant by what sounds like an order of magnitude, who have the tyrannical, bigoted tendencies far outstripping those of the White Fang and Atlas high-society combined. Lovely. From the way Weiss huffs in disgust, she and Blake are in perfect agreement for once.

Yang narrows her eyes again, once again reminding Blake that her partner, despite how she usually acts, is far from stupid or air-headed. It really shouldn't have surprised her. "There's something else, and it's way worse, isn't it?"

The blond team leader takes in another deep breath, face calm and expression almost too placid. "Well, Holy artifacts and weapons become a deadly threat for a start. Holy light hurts, and technically is a deadly poison to Devils. New Devils also have to adjust to their new senses, most get kinda, lethargic during the day for the first week or two. That is to say, drowsy and less focused." He simplifies for Ruby's benefit.

Team RWBY traded uneasy glances at the various weaknesses. Weiss looks back towards Jaune, tilting her head to the side, confidence more-or-less the most prevalent emotion on her face again. "So that's why you stopped your morning workout regimen."

Jaune nods, and Pyrrha offers a quick "I'm sorry." Nora doing her best to look apologetic, Ren's non-reaction conspicuous enough to cross back over into a reaction all its own.

The King waves his team–Peerage–off. "Honestly, we get more done in our nighttime training sessions then I ever did with morning calisthenics. It isn't that big of a deal, or loss, really." Blake knows that Weiss, along with a handful of other morning-bird window watchers would beg to differ, but remains silent on that. "So, yeah, freshly reincarnated Devils tend to become night-owls for the first few weeks of their new life–or until they've amassed enough pacts and power to not feel too terribly weakened and drained by the sun's natural light." Yang waves her hand–again–in a 'go on' gesture, squinting at Jaune, lavender eyes narrowed suspiciously again. She really isn't taking all this well, and her shortage of words is making that abundantly clear. "And... well. How do I put this without..."

"Going against your King's orders and striking out on your own could turn you into a mindless monster that can't see past a crazy twisted version of whatever their desires were before they went rogue." Nora interjects, for once not sounding chipper, flippant or irreverent. Just, ripping the proverbial band-aid off.

"Brothers-dammit, Nora!" Jaune barks as Blake's teammates shoot to their feet an indecipherable cacophony of dismayed and appalled exclamations tumbling from their mouths, Yang's 'are you serious!?' being the loudest.

The ginger is not looking apologetic in the least. "What? Someone had to tell them. Pyrrha's too nice to do it and too polite to interrupt your explanation even if she wasn't. Ren's Ren, and you were way too worried about finding a way to make it not sound as bad as it does to actually get to it before Team Ruby lost their patience with us." Yang had interjected herself between the Devils and her sister, eyes flashing crimson, left arm held to the side, barring Weiss and Blake–when had she stood up?–from moving any closer. Her teammates probably couldn't hear it, but Blake had picked up the ginger's half-mumbled half-whispered, "Don't wanna lose my friends." That had probably only been meant for Ren's ears, judging by how his features had downshifted from exasperated to concerned.

"Weiss, did you know?" Ruby asks, voice tremulous, scared and small. She looks close to tears, and isn't able to keep her focus on any one person in the room for very long. Blake and Yang turn their glowering gazes towards the white-haired girl.

"What? No, of course not!" Weiss snaps defensively at the rest of her team before glaring icy daggers at Jaune, hands balled into fists.

Of course Ravel would decide to forgo that little nugget…Then again, why would she go into that? Given Riser's harem–ahem–Peerage, the idea of a Stray Devil might have seemed pretty foreign for her to begin with.

Jaune raises his hands placatingly, very real panic, and probably hurt scrawled across his scrunched up face and suddenly slumped shoulders. "That's not–Look, most of the time, it isn't even about defying their King because of mistreatment. Usually. It's... " he sighs. "Devils are creatures of desire, that's part of why pacts help us grow stronger. Getting reincarnated, it-it throws all of your priorities into chaos and turns how important they are to you way up. Part of those first few weeks of being in a funk is just, mentally picking up the pieces and trying to put them back into the same place they had been before. If there isn't someone stronger, more experienced than you there to keep you in check and mitigate your emotions, a lot of people, the freshly reincarnated Devil included, could get hurt."

Pyrrha nods, looking down at her hands as she flexes them. "It's… a lot to deal with. Especially at first. But we swear to you, there isn't any coercion or mental tampering involved in the process. Powers that can do things like that are, rare, from what I've seen and been told."

Ren nods calmly, slowly passing his gaze across Blake's team. "For most Devils, 'part of your household' is meant in a filial sense. Jaune says that shows in different ways for most peerages, but, family is family."

Blake cuts a scowl at Ren, then back to Jaune. Between her ears being folded back against her skull and having leapt up with her friends there's no use in trying to act like she isn't, a lot of different things right now–more than she really has the mental capacity to pick through quickly or with so many other people around. Calm and happy certainly aren't among them though. "Usually and rarely aren't absolutes." She snaps out, calm but terse. "And not all families treat all of their members well." She surreptitiously glances at Weiss.

Jaune sighs, "You're right, Blake. Every society has its warts and stains. Laws being in place to deal with abusive Kings doesn't prevent exploitative reincarnations, or manipulative, abusive relationships from developing. But for almost every Stray, it's a conscious choice they made. One to go against their King, the law, and the customs and morality of society, Devil or human or what-all-have-you." If Jaune's expression is anything to go on, the laws he's citing are probably a joke at the very worst, and is almost certainly more like a suggestion to more than a few High-Class Devils that have their own peerages. The contempt she'd heard dripping from the usually mild-natured blond's voice tells her that he could name names, and would probably like to break faces. But, wait, what word did he…?

"Stray?" Weiss prompts incredulously, one perfectly trimmed eyebrow arched, arms crossed and mouth set in a firm disapproving flat line. Blake freezes at the word, looking conflicted for a moment before visibly squashing her reaction down.

Yang is beyond incensed, eyes all but glowing red as she follows up. "Like a pet?"

"An ugly term for an ugly choice." He sadly replies, once again holding up a calming hand. "They have to either kill, badly injure or seriously betray their master to become one. After that, they can either go on the run or face justice. If they choose the former, they wind up like a stray dog or cat gone feral, and start causing problems." Blake twitches at the specific example he provides, but says nothing.

Pyrrha offers a small nod and adds, "Even if they felt like their monstrous master left them no other choice. Then they, in turn, become monstrous."

Ruby mercifully brings the kicked-puppy expression she'd been wearing since the topic came up under control. She slowly, carefully sits herself back onto the couch behind her. "You mean, like, serial killers or r-rapists?" Weiss joins her partner, and Blake, ears, shoulders and muscles slowly–once again–bleeding out tension, joins them. Yang lets a long drawn-out breath from her nose, and Blake could've almost sworn there'd been steam coming from her partner's nostrils, but she ignores it. The blonde brawler stomps across to the far side of the couch and only free space left.

Jaune swallows uncomfortably, there is really no good way to explain this part to an outsider. "For starters, and with the more mild-mannered Strays–and I'm using that phrase very lightly here–that's all the further they go. It… isn't at all uncommon for some to go as far as cannibalism to build up their power." The green hue overtaking Ruby's and Weiss's faces, and the disgusted and outraged faces made by Yang and Blake show they understood the implications perfectly, but that was not something they needed to be told so directly. Dammit all..."By the time the Stray is tracked down to be, put down, or–on rare and lucky occasions–captured for imprisonment, you can normally tell that they had been different before becoming Strays. Usually a few physical traits are still apparent enough that you can tell who they had been."

Looking equally queasy and disturbed Yang offers a baffled, "Why would you want to?"

Ren lets out a small, sad hum, and replies. "If you were killed during a Grimm hunt, don't you think your family would want to know? Instead of being left permanently wondering if you really were just missing?" Yang, and Ruby wince long and hard at that. The younger of the two even tears up a bit. Yang seems to contemplate leaping across the room and putting her fist through Ren's face, but forwent that to push past her teammates to comfort her sister. Some might have called it cruel, but now that they'd started he needs to make sure they understand.

Jaune continues. "Going on a Stray hunt is one of the first things a good King does after bringing someone into their Peerage. You made them your responsibility when you brought them in, so you need to make absolutely–and beyond any shadow of a doubt–sure that they understand how important it is to follow your orders. The big ones, at the very least."

Everyone falls silent as the sisters collect themselves. After a few awkward, yet oddly calming minutes Weiss speaks up. "So what, exactly, do you four plan on doing now that we know about you?"

Jaune shrugs, doing his absolute best to not look grateful to Weiss for giving him a segue to end this conversation civilly and without scarring his–hopefully still–friends. "Graduate Beacon, spend a decade or two hunting Grimm and forming pacts on Remnant before faking our deaths so we can permanently move to the Underworld to work on my goals there."

Yang blinks aggressively a few times and wipes at her eyes. Comforting Ruby aside, she's mostly limp on the couch now, physical exhaustion from the last few days of fighting combining with the emotional turmoil of all the revelations of the last half hour or so clearly having caught up with her. That low jab from Ren moments ago had probably been the final straw. Then his words sink in and the blonde heaves herself forward trying to force a half dozen emotions that aren't tired to the foreground. "So what? On top of everything, you were just planning on leaving us!? Letting us think you'd died?!" Weiss, Ruby and Blake look ready to voice their protests as well.

Ren holds up a calming hand with a soft look in his eyes. "Telling the four of you was always part of our plans. Along with leaving you a means to summon us so we could stay in touch once the fact that we had functionally stopped aging started raising more questions than we could deal with."

Nora nods, her own energy having, thankfully, started to wane as well. "Yeah, it's just, well–Kinda hard to find a good time for..." She trails off, waving her hands around the room, and the eight of them, in general.

Blake blinks slowly, shakes her head with closed eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose before looking back to them to ask,"What are your goals in the...Underworld, then?"

"Well, Sairaorg Bael, the Devil who reincarnated me–Yes, one of those Baels–has a plan to make the Underworld and Devil culture more meritocratic and less about what station you were born to. So, there's helping him with that so he has the time and political pull free to help me start filling in all of the empty Pillar spots. Starting with the Arc." He replies as matter of factly as he can. No point in keeping any other secrets from their sister-team now that the biggest of them is out in the open.

Weiss shoots a dubious look at him. "You… want to turn your family...Into Underworld nobility?"

Jaune offers her a sheepish grin, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his head. "I mean, with more than half of the Pillar families wiped out, and a good third of the ones that are still around either too poor to do much, or down to one or two members and barely surviving it isn't that far-fetched of a goal."

Weiss' judgmental gaze is, pointed. He is getting the distinct impression that she's reevaluating either his intelligence or sanity. Blake mirrors the look on her teammate's face as she warily asks, "And this Great King group will just let you and...Sairaorg do this?" Disbelief is practically dripping off of every syllable of the question.

'Let' is a very strong word. 'Tolerate' and 'use' would be more accurate descriptors for what the current leadership of the Bael clan and his allies' relationship with Jaune and his peerage are. His status as a 'Forced King,' as they had taken to calling him, only serving to exacerbate the situation. His position as a vassal to house Bael being the only reason they haven't gone further than jeering 'behind his back.' Lord Bael had been quick to send Sairaorg to Remnant for new territory, and that success had bought Sairaorg considerable leeway and bargaining power with the Great King Faction. Until recently, Sairaorg had been sheltering him from that mob. If Jaune really wants to achieve his goals however, he can't afford to falter, and needs to start making moves and waves. Soon. That isn't even beginning to consider Jaune's former King and most influential ally's position within his father and so-called 'supporters.' Broaching that tangled mess of politics and family issues now would almost guarantee that Team RWBY will want nothing to do with Devils. It isn't technically a lie by omission. It's Sairaorg's personal life, and it doesn't really affect Team RWBY. Nor would it be that large of a factor in his own once he completes his Peerage and starts to win Rating Games.

Outwardly Jaune shrugs, doing his best to hide his unease. "We certainly have enough powerful friends to make it happen. Heck, Sairaorg isn't even the only one aiming for a meritocracy among young Devils. It really just needs to get traction." His thoughts went to Sona, who's dream for the Underworld worked toward a similar end.

And while he isn't one to buy into rumors, word had been traveling for quite some time that Ravel's 'nieces'–the twins Lord Phenex had mentioned during that conversation he probably wasn't supposed to overhear and ended up interrupting between him and Lord Gremory at Riser and Rias' 'engagement party'–are as openly supporting of a meritocracy as children of House Phenex can get away with in public. In fact, now that he's thinking about it, from the handful of times he's bumped into them at the Young Devil Balls, they seemed nice, if odd; For twins their personalities differed quite a bit. Ruseora or 'Ruse' was logical, analytical and stoic while Raenella or 'Rune' acted bubbly but underneath she was attentive, innovative and utterly ambitious. But both of them were definitely cunning. And they were supposed to be Ruby's age. And maybe two or three inches taller than him without heels–Issei Hyoudou, you lucky, perverted sonofa–But Jaune's digressing... He can think about future allies later.

Blake only stares guardedly at him, "Heard that one before..." She leans back, pointedly looking away, not acknowledging the rest of her team's concerned glances. She'd said her piece and they'd damn well heard her. Seeing the same hurt, concerned looks she is avoiding from her team plastered across Team JNPR's faces–despite them knowing that they're in the dog-house with her–hurts almost as badly. Considering how badly a lot of Faunus, Blake in particular, had been burnt trying to affect change, he tries not to take that too personally.

Yang scoffs half-heartedly, seeming as done as her partner. She blows a stray lock of hair away from her eyes and leans back, stretching her arms above her head. "So, where do humans fit in in all of this craziness?"

"Oh, they're a useful enough source of power for Devils to form pacts with. Apparently." Weiss bitterly grumbles. Jaune shoots the heiress–who knows better–a dirty, hurt look.

Pyrrha directs a pleasant–but clearly plastic–smile back at them. "Oh, well-trained Huntsmen and Huntresses are strong enough in their own right to be a threat to lower-leveled Devils and Angels without being reincarnated. There's Sacred Gear wielders, as well as all the different legendary or magical weapons that are, selective about who and what can wield them. Or just being born with them."

Jaune gives Pyrrha's hand an appreciative squeeze. "My Sacred Gear actually lets me bypass those requirements. I don't actually know if Crocea Mors is compatible with me or if it's just my Sacred Gear that lets me draw out its true form and power."

Ugh, it's a testament to how drained Ruby is–mentally, physically and emotionally–that she didn't so much as twitch at the mention of magical weaponry.

Today's turned out to be one complete disaster piled on top of another.

"Don't forget about Magicians! Apparently forming a pact with one is a super big deal for anyone who wants to move up in Devil society." Nora chirps with a bounce on the cushion she's sat on. One that goes wobbly, and would have ended with her tumbling over the couches arm had Ren not caught her elbow a bit tighter than her own grip on his had been.

Jaune nods, glad that Nora had–finally–helped in a normal way without adding any more chaos to this talk. "And they have a few of their own groups that get more or less left alone. Not very smart to piss off a bunch of magic wielders if you don't have to. Plus there's all the other pantheons, religions and factions scattered across the known worlds, but most of them are either pretty regional or insular so that's definitely a talk for another time; if you're still interested." He takes a deep breath, feeling especially drained from the day and deducing the same for Team RWBY who all seem pretty subdued at this point. After everything that's happened today, on top of this conversation, they probably can't absorb anymore information if they tried. And if he's being honest with himself, neither himself nor his Peerage have much left to give either. At least, nothing that can't wait. "Now, did you girls have any other questions? If not, I think it's well past time for us to turn in."

His breath catches in his throat as he looks to see Ruby lock her gaze with his, face scrunched up looking very conflicted. It feels like an eternity before she finally speaks up. "You're right, Jaune. I… I need some time to… Process, well–" she pauses, Ruby's face, mostly, smoothes back over. "all of this." That said, she woodenly rises and makes for the hallway and her team's dorm room.

The look on her sister's face as she stands up, is decidedly less conflicted and entirely unfriendly, bordering on hostile even. "Ditto. Catch ya later, Arc." It sounds more like a threat than a farewell, as Blake and Yang move to follow after Ruby, neither of the girls looking back.

That could have gone worse. A lot worse. They're still willing to talk, and hadn't attacked them. Now it's just a matter of time, and patience. Brothers, he hopes so at least...

"Thank you."

His head snaps towards Weiss out of surprise, the rest of his Peerage joining him, their expressions variations of his own. He'd expected a lot of things out of this talk, especially considering what had prompted it. Spent the entire shower before it in silent dread, mind tumbling from best and least worst case scenario. Of all the things to get, from anyone on Team RWBY tonight, an honest 'thank you' was... "For what?"

"Holding off. Now probably wasn't the best time for a Peerage membership sales pitch." Her perfectly calm, and emotionlessly polite posture and tone–the sort you expect to see during a corporate hostile takeover in a movie–burns like Holy Water. The fact that she doesn't entirely mean it is a cold comfort.

Jaune freezes up, feeling like he's five years old again and just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Of course she saw right through him. And from the look on her face, he could tell what her answer would be if he'd been dumb enough to have actually asked after everything that's happened. This is really not his day. "Weiss…"

He's halted by Weiss bringing up an interjecting hand. "Ruby's right. I need some time to myself to think." The Schnee Heiress takes a calming breath before looking back at Team JNPR. "Keep your scrolls handy; I still have questions. And I expect clear, concise and complete answers for them."

"Of course."

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to see if my team–my partner–will ever trust me again."

Just before she clears earshot, Pyrrha catches the heiress' attention by calling her name out. She pauses, looking back over her shoulder at them. "If-if they won't, you'll still have a place… A place to belong." Weiss nods, but it's half-hearted at best, and turns back around to–politely stride, a Schnee does not trudge–back to her dorm room. Jaune tells himself that the glinting light on her face had been playing off of a drop of water she'd missed while drying off-not a tear.

Well, if Jaune wasn't feeling like an ass before, he certainly is now. The last thing he wanted was to have Weiss thrown into the hellfire unwillingly with them. He needs to find a way to make it up to her–to all of them–and fast

.

Silence reigns for almost ten minutes as Team JNPR sit listlessly on the couch as the revelations and possible repercussions of the last hour or so tumble over and over in their heads.

"Coulda been worse."

At least he hadn't been the one to say it out loud. Thanks, Nora…

Before he can voice that thought, his scroll buzzes in his pocket.

Grumbling, and more than a little worried that fate is somehow about to screw him over again today, he jams his hand into his pajama pocket the device is sitting in. Taking it out, he checks the now illuminated lock-screen before quickly swiping it open.

It's Rias.

Right, she and her Peerage are supposed to visit in a week or two. They're probably gonna drop by pretty regularly from now on, as well. They certainly have the free time now that the mess with Riser has been dealt with. After all, what better activity could the Occult Research Club spend their time on than visiting an entirely different plane of existence, and Earth's dark twin, at that? And, of course, it would also be a perfect opportunity for her Peerage to start establishing a second foothold and base of operations. The Rookies Four are known to get on fairly well with each other, so Sairaorg's cousin setting up shop near or even in Jaune's territory wouldn't even ruffle too many feathers on the political side of things. The Great King Faction may stir up a fuss, but what else is new?

Maybe Rias will be able to help him figure out how best to start making up for the unintentional hurt his procrastination had caused Team RWBY and the damage it had done to their friendship too. She did mention liking them, and if she were to come clean to them, as well–give them another perspective on Devils–especially a pure-blooded Devil's perspective. Two birds, one stone. It's worth a shot.

That's one small silver lining to today, Jaune can't help but muse as he taps out an answer.

_-*R-DxD*-_

The airship that the Belladonnas had sent to Vale with what they hoped would be Menageries representation to the Vytal Festival is... strange.

Longer than it is wide, bedecked with pre-Great War furnishings that had been either restored or modernized-dark stained wood paneling, burnished brass and bronze for the fixtures, plushly stuffed green or red leather seats in the common areas with CCT terminals, quick-charge scroll docks and ATM terminals scattered throughout the vessel at regular intervals. It's engines are more modern than those it had been built with, allowing the ship to outpace the passenger liners that most people still relied on to get from the Kingdoms to the fledgling island nation, but still falls far short of the hours-long international flight of most commercial airliners.

Unable to compete on speed, the entrepreneur behind this ship had approached the Chieftain and his wife with this. Lounges bars and restaurants with wide bays of windows overlooking the land below. A ticket that, depending on what class your flying guarantees you anything from a thin, hard pallet in what amounts to a bunk-house crammed into a boxcar, with access to a shared shower stall on a by-the-minute pay to wash basis; to the sort of suite you'd expect to purchase for top dollar on a cruise-liner. All on a ship that had so prioritized flight stability that turbulence simply isn't an issue. Commercial airships cramming people into seats and shaking around in the sky at the slightest hint of a storm seems downright primitive to Banesaw after he's watched a storm roil over the ocean from one of this airships observation decks; and the regularly placed crash couches with harnesses ready to spring free from the walls painfully utilitarian compared to the understated elegance of the ships décor available to everyone from coach to first class.

He'd spent the first half of the two-week trip cozying up to the crew, fishing for information and the business' plans. While more Faunus-run industry is always a welcome step forward, this particular enterprise would be of no use to the cause. That said, they also didn't favor humans over Faunus for fare, and barely employed any of the former. So he had reported to Lord Quetzacoatl that it would be best to simply let this endeavor flounder or flourish on its own, and turned his attention towards the current Chieftain's wife.

Which is what has him 'snoozing' on a plush couch in one of the more aft lounges on the lower decks with a decent view of the vastness of the ocean, the distant but steadily growing Sanus coastline in the distance day by day.

And a laughing Kali Belladonna.

"Same old, same old, I see! You always were a poor house-guest, Cheshire!" She chirps into her scroll fondly, free hand fretting with the hem of her blouse. She snickers after a short beat. "And your cat puns have gotten even worse. I didn't think that was possible." The call is voice-only, seeing as they won't be in range of the nearest CCT relay boosting tower for a few days yet. He can't quite make out the voice on the other end of the line, but can at least pick out that it's feminine and sounds cheerful enough.

Belladonna recovers from a minor laughing fit. "Well, I'm glad to hear that you've been doing well for yourself, Cheshire. 'Loveable stray' didn't sound like that promising of an occupation. Considering how… Impressive your appetite was, even before your Aura was unlocked, have you been eating well? Plenty of fruits and–?" The other voice cuts her off, and she lets out another teasing laugh. Banesaw narrows his vertical-slit pupils, for a moment jealous of his Faunus brothers and sisters with enhanced hearing. It would be beyond useful right now. Maybe enough to offset just how naked he feels without his mask, and how alien the cut of the civilian clothes is compared to his White Fang uniform. "I don't care how old you are or what all you're capable of, dear. You were young enough when Blake brought you home, looking as poorly as you did. And then after a few years, you decided to just leave, saying it wasn't safe... well, can you blame me for worrying?"

Hm. So that was years ago, then. There hadn't been any word of the Belladonnas recently having a guest. Especially one that needed medical aid or nursing back to health. He hasn't heard of any 'Cheshire' either. Then again, the White Fang doesn't quite have complete control of the flow of information regarding the comings and goings within the Chieftain's manor. Kali shifts in the armchair she had been sitting in to more drape herself across it. "Yes, yes, I know. I'm just…happy to hear back from you, is all. Yes, of course I'll be sure to make time to catch up with you once I'm in Vale. What about–Oh, you're there already. Good."

A waiter strides up to him, offering a tray of hors d'oeuvres. He waves the White Fang in disguise off–not one of the Reborn like himself, but close, apparently–there will be no need to strike the Belladonna matriarch down. Not yet at least. "No. Blake hasn't called me or Ghira yet. And we both know she used to be such a Daddy's Girl, too!" The woman in question pouts at her scroll as the infiltrator flits away to resume his cover. "Yes, her scroll is on and back in service again. We do have a family plan, so both Ghira and I were notified when her Beacon scroll synced up with the one she'd used before."

Banesaw growls inwardly. Lord Quetzacoatl had been sure to let the entire force being deployed to Vale on this ship know about that little whore's betrayal of their cause and species. If her mother knew just how many of the girl's former comrades are now chomping at the bit for a bit of justice and vengeance she'd look a lot more concerned right now.

As it stands, the Chieftain's wife offers the scroll thankful smile, smooths out her pants, and once again shifts in her chair to sit properly in it. "Thank you for that. How was your latest–" She pauses, face flashing from shock to mirth. "Oh, that does sound like fun, but you are staying safe, right?" Another pause, this time she starts tittering and giggling halfway through whatever it is the person on the other side of the line had said. "Come, come, dear, let someone dote on you once in a while; you don't have to put on that lackadaisical front with me." She smiles fondly after another pause. "Now, be sure to take pictures to show me when we meet up in Vale. Maybe I'll even be able to rope Blake into coming along and–!" Another pause. "Now, don't say that! She was always asking after you practically every time you called. Even if you did like teasing her silly." She pauses again, the impish smile turning into an unhappy frown at whatever the person on the other side of the line is saying. "Well, I'm sure the… disagreement the two of you had over the White Fang is in the past now. The White Fang has changed, but Blake hasn't, it just... took her a while to realize that."

That statement has Banesaw all but growling in anger, but he makes sure to clamp down on that quickly. Kali lets out a very unladylike snort. "Yes, well, 'sounds like too much work to me' certainly wasn't agreeing with how passionate Blake had been back then, darling. Before you left, you started putting on that lazy mask and have been acting like it's your actual face ever since. But I see right through it, young lady. And I don't judge you for not wanting to fight a battle you don't want to."

So the Chieftain's wife is talking with another one of those impassive Faunus traitors, then. Encouraging naive passivity among their people, as usual. "From what you've told me, you deserve so much more than that, kitten." She offers a tentative smile. "I know you have your own, but you're the closest thing to an older sister Blake has ever had. You will always be welcome in our home. I hope you know that." She rolls her eyes with a cheeky smirk when the person on the other side of the line speaks up again. "Let me worry about Ghira and Blake, you silly girl."

Banesaw rolls his eyes, and shifts over himself, once again looking out over the vast nothingness below them, a pod of whales breaching just after he shifts his feel of view. The captain announces some function or another happening on one of the upper decks, letting him start to tune the rest of Belladonna's syrupy garbage out. If this is normal for a Belladonna, it's no wonder they fell out of favor.

This flight, as relaxing as it is, really can't end soon enough. Just under a week now and they'll be over Vale. Still, three weeks is certainly better than half a month, he has to admit. He'd be missing all the fun they have planned for the Vytal Tournaments last round if it weren't for this ship.

_-*R-DxD*-_

They'd relocated to a bombed out apartment complex overlooking the hole in the ground that had led to Ruby finding the White Fang's base of operations in this ruin. Falling back hadn't been terribly difficult, all things considered

Le Fay hadn't had to put in too much effort to track most of the fleeing White Fang transports well enough to give the combined Atlesian and Valean armed forces a head start on tracking the terrorists down during their fighting withdrawal and the subsequent skirmishes before their 'reinforcements' had arrived.

The young Magician is standing off to Arthur's left, maintaining half of the Magic Circle array with Georg that is allowing him to endure a debriefing from Cao Cao. Perseus, Heracles, Siegfried and Leonardo are all arrayed around their leader–in hologram–along with Georg off to the side mirroring Arthur's sister, maintaining the system allowing this debriefing to take place at all. Siegfried had just finished apprising the Holy Spear User of his own mission on Remnant. After a moment of silence, Cao Cao's calculating blue eyes fixate on him again. "Kindly repeat what took place in Vale over the last twenty-four hours for me, Arthur."

It takes a concentrated effort on his part to maintain a respectfully neutral expression. Arthur settles for adjusting his glasses. He had joined with the Hero Faction to find and battle stronger foes, not to humor its leader's compulsive, overambitious scheming and plotting.

He quickly glances past Jeanne, over to Connla, who is squatting to the side of their campfire. The remains of the scout team's dinner scattered around the still burning remains of a kitchen table they had broken apart to build the fire from. The smoke is rising out of the gaping hole where the top story apartment's ceiling had been, the bricks and boards of the wall mixed in with the heap of rubble twenty stories below, allowing them a perfect over-watch on the ruins of the city.

Satisfied that he can give his full attention to the conversation at hand, he offers a nod and complies. He keeps the summary of what had taken place during their initial fighting here, as well as what had happened in Vale succinct and bare-bones. When he falls silent, all that can be heard for a long moment is the crackling of their fire, and the wailing of the wind carving its way through Mountain Glenn's ruined towers, occasionally punctuated by howling simple wolves or their larger, Grimm counterparts–Beowolves.

Their leader pays it no heed as he taps his signature weapon, the True Longinus, against his shoulder, mulling over the information presented to him and his most trusted subordinates in his mind. "Hmm. This Breach as they are calling it is a prelude." Cao Cao states into the silence as he opens his eyes, tone and timbre resonating with calm, self-assured confidence.

Arthur raises a not-quite-dubious eyebrow. "You know this?"

Cao Cao lets his mouth twist into a satisfied grin. "I can feel it in my bones. Tell me, what role did these 'Kingdoms' militaries have you play in their little joint operation?"

Next to him Jeanne's frowning face twitches in frustration. Connla lets out a derisive snort but remains silent, brooding into the flames. Yes, it was a moment of extreme displeasure to discover they missed out on a chance to contend with a leader-class Fallen during the fighting in Vale. Needless to say the remaining Grimm and White Fang chaff found out rather quickly how outclassed they were. Arthur was thankful for having the foresight to send Le Fay off as he, Jeanne and Connla relieved their stress and pent up frustration. Connla's Sacred Gear had been especially useful in dealing with the remains.

The wielder of Caliburn sighs before he answers. "As soon as they saw our 'Huntsman licenses,' we were ordered to 'deal with the Grimm' and left to our own devices." He pauses and casts a glance over at Le Fay, if she didn't realize what she had done, what comes next will not sit well with her. "The influx of Grimm at the beginning of the Atlesian and Valean militaries' clash with the White Fang rearguard was not unimpressive, as conventional warfare goes. After Le Fay provided them with a key to the Bullheads that had evacuated from the Faunus' base here between Team Ruby's departure and the military's arrival, the horde became truly immense. Comparing the amount of the beasts drawn by a simple rear-guard action, and the mass of them drawn to a surrounded force's last stand whose evacuation efforts, military, supply and medical included, were being actively gunned down... I suspect it paled in comparison to what must have been lost during their Great War. We will need to tread carefully when dealing with the Devils and Fallen Angels that have infested this world."

Cao Cao nods, a smug grin plastered across his face. "The Fallen Angels and Devils are clearly set on carving this world up into little fiefdoms and shadow power–bases behind the actual ruler-ship. They may make this 'kingdom' their own, for now, but this world is where we will show them our might. Azazel has, once again, shown an inability to keep his ilk in line and obedient, and house Bael's latest tool barely has his feet under him. When their house of cards comes crumbling down, we shall be there to show the people of this world what true strength is." He clenches his free fist in front of his chest "The blinders of those who place their trust in the Fallen Angels and Devils will know the error of their ways when we send them scurrying back to the dark holes they crawled out from, purging this land of the monstrous Grimm and terrorists of the White Fang in one fell swoop."

He shuts his eyes as if envisioning it all in his mind. "Heh. Devils and Fallen Angels. The creatures of Grimm... White Fang zealots. Even a God... So many enemies, so little time. I love it. And the best part? There's no Supernatural politics or safeguards to get in the way. We're completely free to operate in the open. Remnant is exactly what we've been looking for!" An eager grin overtakes his face as his eyes open, appearing invigorated by the very thought of combating the myriad of foes scattered across Remnant. This, Arthur can admit to understanding on an almost visceral level. "Our time is nearly at hand, my friends." He declares, the tip of his spear emits its signature glow as if fate itself is in agreement, garnering an excited shift from his comrades-in-arms. Arthur barely manages to maintain his composure, presenting his leader and comrades an outwardly excited smile. A feat Le Fay can't quite replicate.

"So what's next on the docket, Boss?" Heracles asks, his voice in stark contrast to his excited, bordering on unhinged expression as he cracks his knuckles and rolls his shoulders across from their leader.

Cao Cao shifts to address the youngest of the Heroes' leadership. "Leonardo, was the data our advance scouts sent you enough for the first phase of your Anti-Grimm monsters?" The tanned youth silently nods, messy grayish hair bouncing from the 'enthusiasm' of the gesture. Cao Cao shoots the child in question a winsome smile. "Excellent. I shall be deploying you with a second team to secure and further investigate this Mountain Glenn. It may prove to be a suitable base of operations for us to launch our attacks on Earth's supernatural groups."

He turns his attention back to the elder Pendragon sibling. "Arthur, your team has done quite well. Return to Vale and continue integrating yourselves with this Huntsman subculture of society. We must know more about the local Heroes if we are to properly add their strength to our own."

"Well, hey, we're already on our way." Jeanne quips, flaring her Aura enough that it can be seen plainly. "We've all been Aura'd up. Weiss did say it would help us fit in better." She takes a quick look down at herself. "I wonder if this is what reincarnated Devils feel like. My senses have all been dialed up to eleven, and I've already started getting faster and stronger. It's a small thing, but enough to notice, and I haven't had my Aura unlocked for very long at all yet." She pauses, clearly slightly lost in thought. "And unlocking the others' Auras was just plain bizarre. Having my mouth just get hijacked by intent was…" She trails off with an expressive shrug. Jeanne had reported that she was 'pretty sure' the Aria she had said while unlocking Connla, Le Fay and his own Auras was the one Ruby had uttered when she did the same for Jeanne. Le Fay had desperately wanted to confirm Ruby and Jeanne's explanation. Perhaps next time, little sister.

Things begin to predictably degenerate from Jeanne's explanation, now that their leader seems to have said his peace. Siegfried begins haranguing Arthur about the swordsmanship of the White Fang. Georg is muttering to himself about how fascinating Dust, Aura and Semblances are. The male Pendragon suspects he and Le Fay will compare notes. Heracles is more focused on the idea of the boost in power the 'scrubs' can gain. Perseus points out it can help all of them, without any of the nasty caveats and catches the 'favors' provided to them by their supposed 'allies' and 'benefactor.' Arthur meanwhile keeps his responses professional–some are exceptional while most are middling at best to Siegfried; and that the usefulness of each individual Semblance is rather conditional with them each being unique to the individual is enough to 'calm' Georg.

"Since the action is clearly found in Vale, the rest of us will rendezvous with you shortly." Cao Cao declares, easily discerning what his executives are most interested in. Arthur's personal issues with him aside, Cao Cao knows what his people want or like, and isn't stingy about providing them to maintain obedience and loyalty.

"Sorry, Boss, but no can do. I'd like to get a lead on the shit going on out here in the desert." Perseus counters, apologetic but firm. Cao Cao isn't offended by the direct refusal of his orders. Perseus is loyal almost to a fault, but his willingness to hold true to his personal ideals of justice, even against Cao Cao's directives is something Arthur can respect and Cao Cao truly values about the lad. It affords him liberties that other members of their band aren't offered most of the time.

"Yes. I believe you mentioned signs of human trafficking in your last report." His smile having disappeared as he bit out the crime as if its very utterance is an offense. Which it is, Arthur certainly agrees. Such a repugnant trade. "Go then. Keep me apprised."

"Always, Boss! Give the regards of Sir Perseus to the Kingdom of Vale!" With that boisterous proclamation, Perseus' hologram dispels.

Cao Cao takes a breath to regain his composure. Everyone present understanding the sore point Perseus had unwittingly prodded with their leader, and were prepared to give him the time needed to calm himself—

Heracles scoffs at the spot Perseus' projected image had stood. "Yeah, we'll get right on that, Peepee…" Or they will childishly denigrate and mock each other in front of their leader.

"Heracles."

The hulking hero flinches. "S-sorry, Boss." A pair of narrow blue eyes glanced over at the explosive bruiser, unamused and unimpressed. His muttered apology having been too little, too late to avoid drawing Cao Cao's ire.

"Have a care. You could stand to be inspired by Perseus' initiative, drive and professionalism." The wielder of the True Longinus coldly rebukes.

Chastened, Heracles coughs awkwardly. "Right…" The gray-haired muscular wielder of Variant Detonation awkwardly averts his gaze. The rest of the heroes wisely do not comment on the exchange.

Cao Cao turns away after a moment, the beginnings of a knowing smile visible to most of them, but not Heracles. "Unless, that is, you're satisfied as you are and don't mind being left to rest on your laurels..."

Heracles eyes go wide, and he puffs up his chest, nearly glaring at Cao Cao. "Hell no!" He fiercely bellows. Siegfried and Jeanne both slyly cover and suppress amused chuckles. Georg and Arthur settle for small smiles, even Connla politely doing his best to look less amused than he is.

"As I said, then, barring Perseus, we'll all meet up near Mountain Glenn." His tone broke no objections. "We'll see about getting our own Auras 'unlocked' as a start." Quickly losing his previous indignation, Heracles, along with Siegfried and Georg all are clearly and unrepentantly eager to get started on pursuing their individual interests on Remnant. A typical example of Cao Cao's roundabout half-obscured carrot and stick methods of maintaining control of the unruly mob his lieutenants can be at times. Arthur may not always enjoy or appreciate it, but he can't deny that it is effective. "And, one more thing." He snaps his gaze back to Arthur. "I'd like for you to arrange a meeting with Ruby Rose and Weiss Schnee. Immediately."

A toothy, excited grin splits Jeanne's face at that, and Le Fay is re-energized at the mention of her new friend. Even Connla perks up, one of the girls clearly having left a good impression with him. Arthur nods, neither surprised nor disappointed, knowing where the raven-haired adolescent is going with this. "It will be done."

"Already have your eye on those two?" Siegfried drawls, his tone belying the hungry gleam in his red eyes. "I suppose it has been a while since we've encountered any prospects with that much raw skill and ability. Even if their talents don't lie with Sacred Gears or any sort of artifact to multiply that potential." Or possessing great skill in magic. However, the Hero Faction is well aware that if Remnant does, in fact, have magic it won't be so easily found. Georg and Le Fay believe that a closer examination of Dust might provide a clue, but that is far from their main focus currently.

"Talent is precisely what caught my eye." With a stomp of the butt of his spear, Cao Cao summons the footage of RWBY's fight against the hijacked Atlesian Paladin. "Just look at them. If they're but fledglings, barely having started their training at the foremost of the Huntsman Academies, imagine what they will blossom into under our watch."

Jeanne is all but vibrating from excitement at the possibility as she interjects. "Ruby'll fit right in, Boss!" She gushes more to herself than their leader. "She's like a hyperactive puppy that loves killing Grimm, talking about weapons and helping people! Hell, she's already given me an idea for Blade Blacksmith. Ruby was practically drooling when I told her about Sacred Gears. She's so adorable." Jeanne cooes to herself, while Le Fay giggles at the description as Connla snorts. In all fairness, that description isn't inaccurate regarding the silver-eyed girl, Arthur allows as he smiles to himself.

Heracles crosses his arms and rolls his eyes, letting out an unimpressed scoff, Georg and Leonardo are both politely neutral on the matter. Siegfried is watching the recording, keenly analyzing Ruby, Weiss and their teammate, Blake Belladonna's bladework.

Cao Cao smirks, amused and intrigued. "That certainly sounds like the beginnings of a Hero to me."

Arthur cautions, "Weiss Schnee may not be so amenable. She was markedly more cautious of our motives, and suspicious in general. If nothing else, I suspect she will follow Ruby's lead, the girl seems to have earned her elder's near complete and implicit trust. It will make recruiting her more difficult, but it is something that I can respect."

"As can I, that sort of loyalty is priceless beyond measure. And simple ignorance is easily rectified." He idly gestures with the True Longinus, causing the recording to halt on Ruby and Weiss performing the joint technique they had called 'Ice Flower.' The black-haired young man's impressed gaze has the same level of intrigue that he had displayed the first time he'd been shown the footage. Arthur suspects the coming introduction had been fated to occur regardless of any vote of confidence from his group. "How fortuitous for us to have found such like-minded individuals so quickly. From all that's happened, from all I've seen, those girls have what it takes to stand with us against our enemies." If nothing else, Arthur muses, the Hero Faction's time on Remnant will be both interesting and eventful.

---

A/N: So, yea, they finally talked at least, right? Also, Summer Rose and her family aren't my own work, rather, I took the version Joey245 came up with for his amazing fic The Beauro: Summer Declassified. It's pretty awesome, go check it out (don't worry, you all have a month or so before I get the next chapter up here.) Also, I had honestly expected this chapter to be pretty quick/small in the grander scale of the fic. The first two scenes being big, the second two small and quick, and, yea, comparatively they are, but I really wasn't planning on the chapter as a whole to freaking double my usual wordcount, heh.

As usual, MASSIVE shout-out to my two awesome Beta Readers MasterPrince713 and Hybrid Theory!

Loved it? Hated it? In a state of constant dread over the existential threat posed by ducks? Drop me a review, I love'em!