There were two concerns which every colony outside of the four kingdoms had to worry about, and the reflections of whom you could find in every single one you travelled to. Oftentimes, it was not even a conscious decision - simply put, colonies which did not address both of those concerns somehow did not tend to last long.
First, and perhaps most obvious - how do you survive the endless Grimm scourge, now that you left the safety of your kingdom? The solutions were as numerous as colonies themselves. Difficult terrain, harsh weather conditions... Sumire's answer was traditional. The town was surrounded by three layers of fortifications - walls and earthworks, their approaches mined and always observed by outposts. Most colonists carried weapons and knew a thing or two about fending off individual Grimm. As long as the colony did not grow out of its walled boundaries, it was an adequate response.
Second... how do you make yourself useful? What reason do people have to leave the safety of their kingdom for a short and uncertain life in the frontier? Exiles and adventurers can only keep you afloat for so long - you must produce something, become self-sustainable, offer something to your Kingdom if you wish to last, otherwise, your settlement will die down and individual settlers will be picked off by Grimm hordes or bandits.
Firre's eyes turned to the distance - past the shabby and hastily constructed houses, towards the imposing construct embedded into the mountains. The Sumire Dust Mines - this town's solution to their second concern.
Most streets in the settlement led towards it, though there was a bit of a distance between the maw-like entrance to the mines and the first houses. Though those houses may have been a little dishevelled, Firre noticed that the people he walked past on the streets hardly looked like miners at all. In fact, the fashion resembled the upper-middle class districts more than anything else - aside for the Mistralians and their bland, monocoloured, though still high-quality outfits, whom he could see here and there, staying by their own and eyeing the Valean settlers with suspicion.
Sure, not everyone who worked in a mine had to be digging the earth - modern mines had plenty of engineers and operators, after all - and not everyone who worked in a mine had to look poor and dirty, but it was still unexpected to see. This was the first time he had been in Sumire, and his expectations were a little different when he stepped out of the train.
It did not take long for the prince to be welcomed - he was not hiding his status as royalty, he was back in his royal uniform and cloak, and soon after he stepped out of the train, two attendants in uniform approached him - a man and a woman, both with a darker skin tone. A pin was attached to the upper right of their dark blue jackets - a layered golden pyramid, the symbol of the House of Trade.
"Prince Firre? We have been waiting for you, and it is good to see that-" the male attendant began after a low hand wave, but stopped when his eyes settled on the prince's cloak - and the blade that was sticking out from under it, partially concealed by the decorated dark green cloth while attached to the belt, but noticeable regardless. "Oh, uh, you did not have to worry, Your Highness - we know that the Frontier is quite unsafe, but we will provide the necessary security to make sure that you won't get to any harm."
Firre turned his eyes down at the grip of his weapon. "It's a ceremonial sword. Bunch of royal traditions I couldn't really carry much about, but I have to follow them."
Not very convincing.
"Right, understood, Your Highness."
"This way," the female attendant added, waving her hand towards the imposing mining complex. Rather than approach the main entrance, and the dozens of carts that were coming in and out carrying tools and Dust every minute, the two employees led Firre towards the side. Here, past a handful of buildings and trees, a secondary entrance was outright carved into the mountain rock, intended for the company staff and visitors. The man pulled the door open, leading to a straight steel staircase, flanked from both sides by reinforced plates and pillars. Functional, but hardly easy on the eye.
"We are going to meet Mr. Flare half-way, Your Highness," the male attendant said. While his partner led the trio on the narrow staircase from the front, he followed them from the back. Alongside offering a sense of security, it also made sure that Firre wouldn't just run off while the two employees weren't looking. It was tense enough to be leading him here as is. We better get a pretty damn big bonus for today...
"We apologise if the amenities are not to your liking, sir," the female attendant added. "Much of this plant had to be constructed at haste and Mr. Flare did not want to spend anything on things he deemed frivolous, such as interior design. This is fairly common here in the Frontier, we don't have as much time and resources as we do back home."
After a few seconds of mindless steps echoing through the stairwell, Firre answered:
"That's understandable, don't worry. I don't mind the functional look, it has a charm of its own."
Especially as, sometimes, his own people went rather too far with their extravagance. So much money wasted on something so useless...
After the female attendant turned open a reinforced steel door, they stepped out into a narrow bridge going above the centre of the mine - immediately bombarded by the loud cacophony of digging, clanging, and rusted wheel turning coming from below. Plenty of yelling, too, and it was anything but friendly.
Walking through the bridge, watching his step - it was suspended on steel wires and its net-like base was partially see-through, every step would send light vibrations through it - Firre allowed his fingers to slide on the handrail and then looked down to the busy mines below.
What he saw was... not quite what he expected. A lot less machines or any other applied technology to harvest the natural crystals of Dust at all, than he expected - a lot more manual workers, physically chipping the crystals away and collecting them. Dirty, ragged workers, groups of which were overseen by uniformed enforcers carrying weapons on their backs, ready to pull them out at any moment, in case anyone steps out of line. No comfort, no care, no compassion. And none of the workers appeared to be human, as far as his eyes could see. Horns and tails stuck out from among the masses, so did varying skin colors.
Slavery. They're using slavery here. Putting hundreds of Faunus in chains and taking away their freedom...
"Uh, Your Highness?" the attendant behind him, stopped just as Firre had stopped, asked, with concern, but Firre did not answer. His eyes were still locked onto the grotesque scene below. Even teenagers, with clearly child-like faces, were among the slave groups - ordered to mine, and dig without reprieve.
Is it because we're in the Frontier? The reach of the Ranger Corps is almost nonexistent here, and me and my team haven't even been here before... we thought we could just police Vale, but we didn't even know that the situation's a lot worse beyond our walls.
Firre raised his eyes, turning to the male attendant. "Sorry, I got a bit distracted, let's go." Even then, it was impossible to not register the prince's cold stare, and the contempt that it hid.
"Right, well... uh... Let's go ahead, yes. These are foreign workers, Your Highness. It might not seem great at first glance, but-"
"Don't worry, I can tell."
It was a sudden, unexpected shutdown that got both employees to tense up. Their boss didn't mention anything about Prince Firre potentially having a negative reaction witnessing their mines - sure, they had heard something about him being a bleeding-heart, wishy-washy do-gooder or whatever, but this seemed to be a bit past their expectations. The male attendant's eyes were now almost permanently focused on the prince's sword.
We really need to trap him and get away, and soon.
The bridge led towards the company branch's offices - rooms for various bureaucratic storage, visitor rooms, working rooms, and even a living room for the upper management to relax after a day's work. The attendant at the front of the row pushed the door open and immediately announced:
"This way."
To the left.
The eyes of the attendant at the back of the row settled upon a worker standing on the other side - who immediately tensed up at the sight. It was one of those engineers working with high temperature mining deep underground - their entire body was covered with a hazmat suit and a thick helmet and respirator that protected them both from the heat and from the risk of inhaling Dust particles. The attendant secretly gestured at the worker, pointing at the mine depths with his thumb, but instead of calmly leaving, the worker ran to the other side, to the right. Seemingly in a panic, too.
The mine's staff were informed of what was going to go down, so perhaps this employee was simply not taking it well. It was natural to be worried here.
The snaking corridors of the company offices unfolded before them - after yet another turn, the trio approached the storage rooms - with one, emptied beforehand, with a wide opened door. The female attendant's eyes briefly looked behind her shoulder, meeting with her colleague's stare.
Move!
With a sudden shove, the man pushed Firre into the entrance - then, the woman grabbed the door, a thick, heavy block of steel intended to endure any Dust explosions or attempts at cutting it opened, and slammed it shut.
"Lock it!" the man immediately yelled, and both employees hastily pulled onto the wheel door lock. The mechanism snapped shut. They were not done yet - the woman rummaged through her belt until she pulled out a thick, bulky radio piece.
"It worked, we put the Prince in confinement. Send everything you can to storage room 31, quick - we don't know if he has anything that'll help him get out!"
"You captured the Prince?" Velinn spoke to the receiver on his desk - immediately, a wider, toothy smile formed on his face. "Good. Deploy everything. Keep that storage room under watch at all times."
He can't believe that worked. It couldn't have. The Prince must have a trick up his sleeve. So, as soon as he finished the call, Velinn opened the drawer below his desk and pulled out a list of numbers. Mantle's High Command in the Frontier... 554-4721. Once he typed in the number and pressed onto the voice button, he began to speak.
"General, this is Velinn Flare. We have the Prince under custody. Send your forces to Sumire, now. He will be yours."
A confident, cold woman's voice answered him from the other side.
"Finally. And here I thought you have already botched the operation... I'm sending the ships forward at once. You'll know when we arrive, it'll be impossible to miss..."
From the tone behind that sentence, Velinn assumed that they're going to try to blot out the sun itself. The threat of such a show of force was highly concerning - but as long as they keep this operation contained to Sumire, the subsequent diplomatic downfall should still be manageable.
"See you soon."
Velinn stepped away from his desk. I need to get out of this building. This'll get messy fast, and we're supposed to just be an innocent company getting caught in the crossfire. And so, he did - the businessman swept up another cigar off the table and then left through the door. A worker was on the other side, standing around in the corridor - it was one of the engineers working with the high-temperature shafts, their entire body was covered in a hazmat suit. Walking past him, Velinn waved with his hand and ordered:
"Go back to work. Nothing to see here."
The worker tensed up and nodded - yet, the businessman's orders fell on deaf ears, apparently, as once he ended up out sight, the worker ran to Velinn's office instead. Here, Silva pulled off the suit's helmet and tossed it aside - even though the inside of the mine was relatively cool, wearing the suit for such a long time had gotten completely unbearable - then grabbed the chair and rammed it under the door handle.
The prince was already here. She did not have much time - not only did she have to make a call, but she also had to do it fast and ensure that...
Ah, he just left it here! The list of numbers which Velinn pulled up from the drawer was still lying on the table, next to the receiver - which she glanced to with a bit of hesitation. Uh... how does this thing work, actually? Do I just have to type in the number? Uh... well, let's try something.
Firre pulled his face off the ground and raised his eyes. A cold, dark, empty storage room - more of a hall if he had to factor in its size - unfolded before him. Hastily emptied before he came here, it seems - the floor was a mess, wrenches, screwdrivers, pieces of metal were scattered throughout, and there were stains left behind by crates that had been sitting in one place for a long time being suddenly thrown away. If he had to guess, he would say that Velinn and the staff were planning to trap him here from the very beginning, just like he assumed coming here.
Alright. They've thrown the first blow. That means I no longer have to hold back. I'm tearing this entire place to the ground.
Moral law demands it.
The prince leapt up on his feet and turned to the reinforced steel door behind him. Briefly, he glanced over his surroundings - sadly, there was no convenient crowbar with which he could pry it open, so all that was left for him was brute force. Firre placed his hand, trailing his fingers through the narrow gap between the door and the wall, searching for the right spot, then suddenly stepped back. A small sprout budded from inside of the gap, stretching from side to side, as if trying to find itself the right path to spread its roots, and slowly began to grow.
Blast doors like this one were designed to endure explosions powerful enough to topple entire houses - yet, as anyone who had to deal with weeds before could tell you, determined enough roots can chip through even the toughest metal. Firre aimed his hand at the sprout, channeling more and more energy from his Aura into it. And so, its roots spread, finding even the narrowest faults that were imperceptible to the human eye, burrowing into them, expanding and breaking the steel apart. In a matter of seconds, the first visible cracks began to show on the door, the sound of metal bending, twisting and snapping followed while they grew farther and farther.
With his other hand, Firre pointed at the ground - where, following his fingers rising up, a tree trunk grew out of the floor. Hand clenched to a fist, thrown forward as a punch to the air - and the tree followed, "growing" at the cracked steel door at the speed of sound and smashing into it like a battering ram. Its compromised structural integrity could not hold against the blow - and so, it collapsed into dozens of thick, heavy metal chunks, flying straight at the female attendant on the other side and knocking her out.
"Wh-huh?!" her colleague yelled, but before he could pull out a weapon or run away, his boots got stuck. Wood was growing around his body from below, slowly at first, to find the right rooting, but suddenly accelerated. In mere seconds, the man's entire body below the chin was encased in hardened wood.
Firre walked out of his "prison", stepping over the broken metal that now scattered the floor - without offering the two employees a single glance, he departed. Something had changed - the corridors of the facility were now filled with distant shouts, yells, and the sounds of footsteps tapping against the metal corridor floors.
What's the plan now? The first step was clear - he had to fight his way through this mine's guards. It may sound a little conceited in his head, but Firre was certain that he could do so without considerable difficulty. Because Velinn Flare had approved a criminal act against a member of the Royal Family, and no Rangers were present in this town - if he recalled correctly, the nearest Ranger base was several leagues away - he was within his right to enact his own judgment on the criminal.
And, judging from what Firre saw as he headed over the bridge above the mine, this assassination attempt was only the first of Velinn's misdeeds - not only had he just threatened his life, but he was also completely morally bankrupt, not that it was a surprise at all. You'd struggle to find a businessman who was not.
The corridor unfolded into a fairly large open area, the chairs, tables and sofas placed throughout indicating that this was some sort of leisure area for the company's management - where he was finally faced with guards. Several of them, each one in thick dark leather uniform and with an assortment of weapons, from swords to rifles and pistols, were running through the room and stopped once they saw the prince.
"Here he is!" one of the guards, brandishing a sword, yelled out. Their faces, above their lips, were hidden by a helmet and a visor of coated glass, and their leather uniforms, padded with armor plates on their shoulders and arms, offered very little protection. None of them appeared thrilled to be here. Firre stood firm, placed his hand on his sword's grip and then declared:
"I'm giving you all an option. If you drop your weapons and leave, I will not harm you. If you stay, however, I cannot guarantee any of your lives."
With that offer laid down, he began walking forward, almost casually, approaching the guards. They did not expect this response from him - and one of the guards, holding a musket, turned to his comrades after hearing it, saying:
"Uhh... Maybe he has a point, you guys... I mean, that blast door, that was supposed to be able to endure even an artillery shell. It's all gone, and..."
"He's bluffing!" another guard yelled and ran straight at Firre. A mistake. The prince braced for impact, then lunged forward faster than the eye could track - he stopped with his sword raised above him after a wide arc that sliced at the guard, instantly shattered his Aura and sent him crashing to the ground.
"Aah!" his peer yelled, throwing his musket to the ground and fleeing to the opposite direction. Another guard raised his revolver in a panic and unloaded several rounds at Firre - yet he, passively walking towards the man, deflected each and every one of them with his sword. In the midst of the barrage, Firre aimed his hand forward and gestured with his fingers - instantly, two trees grew from the ground and slammed into the guard in the midst of their growth, sending him flying into the air.
It was a good start, but Firre could tell that it's only the beginning. A group of shouts and running steps were turning louder and louder, until suddenly-
"What is going on over here?!" a guard, followed by another one, yelled as he ran into the room - then pointed his sword at Firre. "There he is! Stop him at all costs!"
The prince turned to them, and, once again, began to casually approach. "Drop your weapons and leave, now." Neither of the two guards listened, however - instead, they went for a combination they had been preparing before, using both of their Semblances. The first kneeled and aimed his hands at the approaching prince - after a few seconds of focus, his movement began to drastically slow down, as if he was on a slow-motion Parchment recording. The other guard raised his hand high and focused his Aura in his palm - there, he summoned a ball of raw, crackling energy.
From Firre's point of view, it was as if the world around him got suddenly accelerated and the guard's technique was lobbed at him at speeds faster than he could even react to - he had barely raised his gunblade to shoulder height when the attack hit him and threw him back with a painful grunt.
That was... definitely a Semblance... Some sort of ability to slow down my perception of time...
He had to act quick. While flying across the air, Firre grabbed onto the floor and flipped himself back to his feet - then immediately aimed his finger at the two men. Once again, the world around him began to accelerate - yet, instantly, his hunch was proven correct as well. That Semblance can only focus on one thing at a time.
A tree broke out of the ground in between the two guards, throwing them to different sides and breaking the time freeze over Firre. In an instant, he was already above one of them, slamming his foot into the man's gut and smashing him to the floor, where he slid the knocked-out body like a snowboard for a few seconds and then kicked it aside.
"Ugh..."
That singular blast managed to actually get him winded, for a second, he clutched onto his chest. Granted, because of that damn time freeze, he was forced to take it square in the face, but still... Alright, I need to take out the other guard, unless he already got knocked out... then I need to find where Velinn's office is and...
Someone's finger touched the bark of Firre's tree. Almost instantly, the entire plant began darkening from the intense heat, its leaves shriveled and caught fire, and, in a matter of seconds, all of it from the branches to the base burned to a crisp, collapsing into a pile of ash.
The prince barely managed to mutter out a "What the-" before a spear with a gold-coated bronze tip thrust from the darkness - fast, very fast, moreso than any of the guards' attacks prior. Firre blocked it with the side of his sword's blade - the sheer force behind the thrust pushed him back, sliding across the hall.
What now?! He was genuinely getting impatient.
"Well, well, if it isn't Oz's little kid...?" a man's enthused voice rang from the corridor - then a heavily armored boot stepped forth. Clad in a gilded bronze breastplate and twirling a spear in his hand, it was a warrior with bright, sharp red hair, looking down on Firre with a confident smile on his face. A thick cloak of pure golden wool was resting on his shoulders and going down to his thighs. Firre rose back up after having gone down on one knee during the pushback.
That's... that's not one of this mine's guards, is it? The old, extravagant armour, it reminded him of Mistral and its enormous court, rather than the modest and methodical employees of Velinn's industries.
"And who are you supposed to be?"
The intruder chuckled, then, to Firre's surprise, placed his finger in his mouth and then pulled it out. As if to make it even more baffling, as soon as he raised his finger, the temperature in the hall began to rapidly rise.
"My name is Argo, kid. I'm here to take you down."
"Whoa!"
Generally, unless they had business to do outside of the kingdom - or family to visit, if they grew up in the colonies - a usual person, no matter which kingdom they grew up in, would rarely leave the premises of their fortified city. For obvious reasons, of course - danger lurks at every shadow in the wilderness, so there really was no reason to just... go here. Which was, if Ashen had to be honest, a bit of a shame, because it meant that so much beauty had to be kept away from the human eye.
Their fortified Frontier encampment, staffed by about thirty Rangers, was established atop a mountain, on a flat formation jutting out from the side and ending with a steep cliff. A breathtaking view unfolded beyond it - the mountain range which separated Vale from the rest of the Sanus continent stretched all the way to the horizon, followed by vast forests and the occasional clearings. Somewhere in between them, tiny specks - small settlements, struggling to survive in this hostile world - could barely be seen, occasionally dotting the landscape like small buds of civilization sprouting from the wilderness.
Ashen was sitting on the edge of the cliff, her legs dangling in the air.
"Altar is in that direction," Yche said, pointing to the distance. She was standing next to Ashen, her mind brushing through childhood memories triggered by the familiar landscape. "Back when my mother was still around, we used to gather mushrooms in that forest over there. That's also where I killed my first Grimm, when I was ten years old. They roam that forest every once in a while, but all of them are rather small, about as large as a human. Larger ones wouldn't even fit among the trees. Mom gave me a training sword and I beat it back."
Hearing the story, Ashen turned her head to her friend - well, a comrade in their military unit now, too, but still. "When she was still around...?"
"...Yeah." Yche gave a response in a slightly more bitter voice. "So, not anymore."
"Oh, gods, uh, I'm sorry, um-"
"Oh, no, don't be. She passed away doing what she loved most, I'm sure."
Still, the conversation got awkward - so, thankfully, both of the women were rescued from an uncomfortable silence by a third person stomping down from the encampments.
"There you are!" Reza yelled, getting both of her peers to turn around and face her. "Why are you lazing about over here? Why aren't you unpacking?"
"I already did," Yche answered first and shrugged. Ashen then added:
"I didn't even bring any stuff, really. You're the one who came here with full bags."
"Yeah, well... I'll have to manage this camp, so of course I need everything at hand. If I had all the paperwork for everything done for me, I wouldn't be in such haste myself, either."
"What is that 'paperwork' even for?" Ashen asked. "I mean, you're in charge, obviously, but I assumed we would just stay here and prepare for any deployment..."
"Are you daft? If you break as much as a toothbrush, I will be required to write a request for a new toothbrush to receive it from the next supply route. If you go out the premises of our camp, I will have to write a report informing when, why and who... if you..."
In the midst of Reza's long-winded explanation of her duties, the receiver - a more primitive and bulkier, but still useful Valean model - rang in the middle of one of the hastily constructed wooden houses. After a few seconds of loud ringing, one of the Rangers, a tall black-haired man, approached the device and opened the call:
"Altar Ranger Base. Who is this?" An uncertain, worried woman's voice spoke from the other side:
"H-hello... I am calling from the Sumire Dust Mine. Something crazy is happening over here... There's fighting, and there's someone who didn't belong to the company staff fighting here... The guards won't be able to stop what's happening, please, we need your help..."
Huh? Sumire? The Ranger answered with a simple "Thank you, we'll be there," and walked away, then opened the window to where Reza and her comrades were standing. She was still laying out an explanation to an increasingly bored Ashen:
"...and then, once we are back in Vale, I will need to get all of them certified, and then-"
"Uh, commander Betula?" the man called out, immediately getting her to stop and turn to him.
"...Yeah?"
"Something crazy is happening in Sumire."