Arthur Watts brought the latest artifact into the grand throne room of Evernight Castle. There had been many attempts ever since the discovery of a particular semblance. While the information that they had received is as complete as they can come, it is also rather lacking in that they are having difficulties in recreating it. One would think that a mere Semblance would be easily replicated if one had the greater power, magic. But, as Watts saw it many times by now, it wasn't entirely the case.
He had learned many a deal of historical and cultural things in his research. Witchcraft, the occult and even online practices claiming to be the legitimate method of recreating such a thing. Every path had been walked on and all of them led to different endings.
Watts entered the grand yet empty hallways. The big tables and chairs were moved to the side. In the center, there was a great image of a series of circles meant to represent the casting of magic. Runes were inscribed on these circles and they were far too plentiful and large that they have taken up the entire room. He had to be careful in navigating these circles as any smudge and erasure could result in yet another failed attempt.
There were already many others that have been used. Raw power of magical energy, sacrificial offerings of animal, human and even Grimm kind, incantations and countless others. Watts felt that he had already become an expert on the different aspects of various magical and occult practices that he could recite every piece, including their history and influence on culture, by memory alone.
At the helm of it was Salem, the immortal queen of the Grimm. There was a strange irony at the thought. One would think that after many years, there wouldn't be anything that she hadn't seen nor hadn't done. Yet, here she was, as green as though that she had never once seen huntsmen and huntresses with their fanciful semblances. Frustrated, she has become desperate for a solution to her conundrum. She dedicated much of her resources just finding a path towards it. As for the reason? She never said, only that it would serve them and their interests better.
If Watts was being honest, he was glad that it keeps ending in failure. If Salem were to succeed, what use do they have left? All she had to do was summon others to take her followers' places. Watts didn't like that. He wanted to be useful. No, that wasn't right. He wanted to be acknowledged for the genius that he is. He wasn't about to let some familiar take over his place. No. Watts wanted these to end in failure because that would mean that his place, and thus his own goals and ambitions, are secure.
With Salem was the ever giddy and frankly sadistic Tyrian Callows. A scorpion faunus with a zealous dedication to his "goddess." Every time the summoning rituals had ended in failure, he would always reassure Salem that she would succeed next time and that the so-called "heretics" will burn in eternal damnation for spitting in the face of the goddess. Rather than simply accept that there might have been things that Salem isn't capable of doing, like summoning this Servant that they called, he would sooner call the rest false and always offer to end their sinful lives. Tyrian has quite a way with words that Watts almost believed that he would have done well as a pastor with all his preaching. Almost.
The other was Hazel. A silent and strong individual. His reasoning for being with Salem was nothing more than revenge for the death of his own sister. An understandable if odd goal. Why would he work with the one person who had caused said sister's death were mental gymnastics that Watts would rather not go through. It is one thing to blame Ozpin for knowingly sending children to die against an immortal foe, it is another for joining said foe who currently planning and acting on killing more children. Then again, in Watt's mind, such a thought might be too complex for what is essentially the muscle in the group. Hazel's eyes narrowed on him. Watts must have smirked without knowing.
"Watts," said Salem. Before, she would always have a level of restraint and calm in her tone. Now, he could tell when she would try to rein herself in but the faintest hint of child-like excitement would leak out. "Have you brought the artifact?"
"Yes, my queen," he said with a bow. "A rather historical one. It was said to be a piece of an ancient civilization that was the birthplace of many heroes. Perhaps it would be best to cast a wide net so to speak and thus I have prepared a catalyst that would call on that many."
Such a historical artifact in his hands yet it was being used for this? Watts could feel his own heart breaking like glass. It may not have been his chosen field of academic interest, but it was still painful to see what is otherwise an amazing piece of history being thrown away for something that he was certain would fail again.
"Yes," said Tyrian. "This time, my queen. You will show the world that a true goddess walks among them. Who better if not these heroes of old to serve as your dutiful warriors?"
Watts rolled his eyes. Tyrian should consider being a gleeman sometime. Watts gave Salem the artifact, a broken piece of carved stone, with a graceful and humble bow. He then moved to his place just at the corner of the room. When he did, his expression turned flat. He wasn't expecting anything different this time, either.
Salem slowly made her way into the center. She was not wearing her long dress this time as the cloth could smudge and wipe away the intricate lines that formed the magic circle and the runes inscribed on them. At the center did she place the artifact and returned to her place at the throne. With a deep breath, Salem then began to cast her magic, chanting in some ancient language long forgotten by civilization or so most thought. Watts had a feeling that he might have heard it somewhere before, like it had been one of those made-up languages that writers of fiction would create for their fantasy stories.
"…heed izub bugd," she cried out. "Agh ghashkrum izish!" Matching the timing of her incantation, Salem poured a large amount of magical power that while grand and majestic the first few times, it had become a rather predictable and boring spectacle for Watts. The novelty of such light-shows had worn off. Tyrian still laughed like a mad man while Hazel still shut his eyes tight from this blinding light.
The next was the increase in brightness and power. The room shook as even the chandeliers that hung overhead had begun to shake and rattle. The wall and ceiling decorations that weren't so well put had begun to fall and if they make it to the ground without burning up, break into a multitude of pieces. Salem was visibly straining as she tried to put her entire being into the ritual, wondering what it was that she was missing. How much of her magical energy had she expended by now? Could it have waned significantly with all these attempts? Watts did observe that she was pushing herself more as the attempts went on.
With a final flash for a finale, Salem's magic ritual had ended. When the light had faded, they were all met the same result as the ones before it: failure. The only thing that remained on the floor was charred blackness that colored it, broken pieces of decoration with some having turned to ash. Once again, Salem gritted her teeth in frustration. Tyrian jumped into the center of it all and began to shout at the floor, as if it was the floor that prevented their own familiar from being summoned.
"I shall go and rest," Salem declared. She then left with her head held high as she avoided meeting anyone's face, keeping what dignified grace she had remaining.
Tyrian marched towards him, fingers accusatory. "Are you certain that what you have is genuine?"
"Even if it was counterfeit," Watts replied, not willing to back down even in the face of an individual many times stronger and many more times insane than him. "The history and legend behind it is of no question." That much he was able to gather from his research; if the people have a strong enough belief of something, bordering on legend, then there was greater likelihood that it would work. Granted, it might not have been as potent as the genuine article.
"Tyrian," Salem said. She had yet to leave the room but she was by the door. "I will not have you fight anyone else for something that is beyond their control." Tyrian backed away, fear of having disappointed her marking his face. "However, I have a task for you." His expression lightened up. "Perhaps we need a sample directly from the source. They have made their activities known so it should not be a problem in finding them. I want those two alive, Tyrian."
"As my goddess wills," Tyrian replied. "So it shall be done." He then giddily went on his way, readying everything that he needed—as he saw it anyway—for his journey. He did not prepare much in the way of food rations; Tyrian would probably say that his faith shall be the bread that sustains him or something.
"Hazel," Salem then said. "You are to follow with Tyrian on the same location although your objective will be to rendezvous and convince our… friends with a little bird at the helm of our offering."
"Yes," Hazel replied, not even bothering to address her by her title.
Finally, Salem turned to him and said, "Watts. You must be tired from your journey and so I shall lend you respite before your next task."
"Milady?" he asked.
"After you have rested, I wish for you to head to Atlas. Observe and—if necessary—aid them in whatever repairs they may be conducting on this Amity of theirs. If there is none, use it."
Watts tilted his head. Amity coliseum was the location which the Vytal tournament is held. If it wasn't being used for that, it was held in Atlas. One of its other notable uses was its representation of a united front against the Grimm and as such has been fitted with the latest of communication technology that connects with the four kingdoms of Remnant and even the cities and settlements that were lucky enough to have a CCT booster.
"And what," he asked. "Am I to use Amity for, milady?"
In response, Salem produced many pieces of paper. Each one was a newspaper on recent events. All of Salem's subordinates have made it a habit of bringing any means of information about the four Kingdoms and this was just one of many. There was one recurring thing about them: they all feature the reason of their current pursuits. A team of five students traveling from place to place as they help out small villages and towns. Word has spread to the bigger towns and the overall state was that of happiness.
"Ozma's newest piece is operating in the open," said Salem. "Thus far, they have proven themselves successful and if they continue, uniting all of humanity may just be a possibility."
"You cannot be serious, milady," replied Watts. "Humanity is flawed by their nature. It is impossible for them to be united under a single banner even with a common enemy of Grimm."
"Precisely," replied Salem. However, Watts momentary smile was dashed away when she continued. "Impossible. Yet, here this Jeanne d'Arc is currently existing. Such an occurrence should have been impossible and yet there she is. What else that was once thought of as impossible may actually be possible?"
Watts had no response to that. It was really all a matter of statistics at this point. The thing about statistics however is that no matter how low the percentage is, if it was not absolute zero, then there is always the chance that it could happen. "And our purpose of Amity?" he asked, instead.
"Humanity—especially those who live their lives of luxury, away from the walls and Grimm—have a tendency to squabble over things that only those of privilege would consider a problem worth addressing. Even as it is now, they are those among them who would argue in favor of the Grimm, calling them as misunderstood creatures with some even defending them, small in number as they are.
"With Amity, we are to ignite that debate by revealing my presence to the world."
Everyone's eyes widened at the announcement. Watts and Hazel had astonishment written on their face while Tyrian was that of euphoria.
"Oh my goddess!" Tyrian was practically having an orgasm at the announcement. "Yes! Soon the world shall know and praise our true goddess!"
Watts had a different opinion. If the Grimm were revealed to have a sentient leader, there is also the risk that humanity would actually unite as they now have a face to associate with it. While some would argue that it makes the Grimm more relatable, it also would mean that every death at the hands of the Grimm could be traced back to Salem and those friends and families of theirs will demand justice. With this Jeanne d'Arc and her team going about, intended or otherwise, they are going to unite all of humanity, however improbable that was.
"Do not mistake me, Watts," Salem replied to his concerns. "For in that momentary chaos, the Grimm across Remnant will strike. While they have busied themselves in debate, the Grimm will descend on them and wipe the kingdoms off of Remnant. Then, it is only a matter of finding the Relics and bringing them together."
That was Salem's plan. She was to make her own opening and exploit it by not giving humanity a chance to fight back. Huntsmen and huntresses would be focused on keeping everyone safe while those who have never even seen Grimm would spend their hours arguing about making peace with the Grimm, never realizing that they would fuel the flames of negativity that would draw more of the Grimm towards them. Since they had never once seen Grimm, they will never realize it until it was too late. Deaths that could have been prevented if humanity tried to make peace with the Grimm and deaths that have spat on as those who have laid down their lives in defense against the Grimm.
But that came with its own risk and it's own flaws. Salem had no plans of making peace. The sooner humanity realizes that, the sooner they would put a united front against them. This plan of hers relied entirely on that momentary shock. Watts couldn't raise this concern as Salem had already left the room to rest. He doubts that she would change her mind and resigned to what had happened. Hazel and he looked at one another, neither of them shared a word but they both understood each other as having thought of similar things. Tyrian couldn't be happier, content only to be in the service of Salem and spreading what he considers to be gospel. All three of them went ahead with their assigned tasks.
Never once did any of them think that a united humanity was precisely want Salem wanted. If that is what it took to get what she wanted all this centuries, then she would do just that.
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Somewhere on the continent of Anima, young Oscar Pine was reading a paper during the night time. It wasn't something he normally would do. After a hard day's work at the farm, he would be too exhausted to do much else other than prepare for another hard day tomorrow. As it was however, he was reading the newspaper about the latest news. Even if the CCT wasn't down, news doesn't travel fast around these parts making newspapers the preferred method of getting up to date with current events. Of course, the reason behind his reading of them lately wasn't because Oscar himself had developed an interest in them. Rather, it was because of the unexpected and still unwanted resident that occupied his head.
"So Glynda has opted to send JNPR instead," said the voice in his head. He had introduced himself as Ozpin, formerly headmaster of Beacon Academy. Whatever Ozpin had felt, Oscar felt it too. The feeling could be described as positive. A hesitant hope that was growing.
In recent days, this team JNPR had been rising in popularity around the different settlements here. Even those who don't consider themselves as part of the kingdom of Mistral have heard of them. Everything that they had said was positive with more people speaking their praises. The reason? Team JNPR had been doing a lot of good in those settlements. Rebuilding homes, defending towns from both Grimm and even training a few to defend themselves.
At the center of it all was the girl bearing a flag as her weapon of choice, Jeanne d'Arc. Many have started to call her a Holy Maiden. Oscar would admit that she did have a rather heavenly air about her and he has only seen these pictures. There was a purity behind it that one can't help but feel at ease. However, there was also a fire behind it. A roaring flame that could inspire even the meekest of people to become the greatest of warriors.
From what Ozpin had told him, Jeanne wasn't actually a human being but rather a familiar who had been addressed as a Servant. Turns out she is a Semblance of one Jaune Arc. Oscar, before that, had thought of the two as siblings which Ozpin had said that they might as well be. The farm boy did miss out on the Vytal Tournament so he didn't know.
The rest of the team was with them. Championship fighter Pyrrha Nikos along with the inseparable duo Lie Ren and Nora Valkyrie as they were called. No matter where they headed, it was as though people would follow.
Oscar could hear Ozpin laughing in his head, like a joke that the former headmaster had heard only now being funny. It wasn't a bitter laugh but rather a joyous one when whatever there was before was thought to have been impossible.
"There is a chance." His voice was shaking. He really sounded like he couldn't believe what he was saying. "An actual chance. Never had I believed that a united humanity would be possible."
AN: At the moment, I only have the general outline but still working on the details on the later parts. I got stuck many times and was wondering whether I should at least post the earlier chapters while I work on the later ones down the line. Me getting spooked by a second copy of Jeanne while contemplating about it is me taking that as a sign.