Two weeks after her army had split in three at Braygate, she arrived near Fort Reed. The march had been hard on her army. Every village and hamlet and town from Braygate to Fort Reed had been abandoned and burnt, straining their supplies and causing her to increase rationing. It didn't help that walking through charred village after charred village did a number on morale. If the Atlesians were willing to burn their homes to deny them somewhere safe to bunker down at night, then what were they willing to do to win on the battlefield?

It was a question that worried Pyrrha to no end. The Atlesians had used magic to crush the Faunus during their revolution, and it wouldn't be too much to assume they'd attempt to do so once again. Normally she would have her Inquisitors to help counter any magic, but the Inquisition was stretched thin enforcing order and keeping rebellious lords in check back home.

"Your Imperial Majesty, we are nearing Fort Reed." Pyrrha stopped her pacing to see one of her guards, Seventy-Five, peering into the tent.

"Thank you for informing me. Make sure my horse is prepared and ready to go." She ordered, and Seventy-Five nodded before leaving to fulfil the order. Pyrrha clicked her fingers, and her servants went into action.

Two of her slaves were new, brought into servitude to better support their families in the aftermath of Vulcan's conquest. Poor families with lots of children had to make sacrifices in order to stay afloat, more often than not the young women and girls of the family taking the worst of it, sold to brothels and the like as there was little employment opportunities for them beyond that. At least under Pyrrha they wouldn't be forced to give their bodies to someone against their will.

But that did not mean she tolerated ineptitude. They were clumsy, fingers too fiddly and they took too long to help her with her armour. She nodded at her watching major-domo who nodded back. She would make sure to discipline and train them properly.

Once she was finally prepared she tied her hair into a ponytail and adorned her bronze-golden helm. It would be sweaty and stuffy, but it protected her and gave her better vision than the slits used in Atlesian helmets. Not to mention it was a mark of her royal authority, making her a clear figure even during the midst of battle. Her shield was a heavy but familiar weight on her arm and her sword was slung onto her hip.

She left the tent, almost flinching at how cold it was. Even Mistral wasn't this cold in the dead of winter, and their armour reflected it. She shuddered and quickly strode over to her horse. A contingent of her guards were also mounted and soon they were riding through the slowly forming Mistrali battle line.

Units from the vanguard were tired but stood proudly and in formation. The terrain was bumpy but was mostly flat, something that favoured Mistrali shield to shield battle formations perfectly. The rear-guard were equally tired but would have the benefit of being in the reserve.

Pyrrha wasn't sure if there would be a battle today. Her scouts had reported that Fort Reed had been reinforced by a sizable Atlesian army, but had no idea how many. Some reported 3,000 whilst others claimed 10,000 and whilst she knew the truth would be somewhere in between, it didn't matter. A depleted garrison was a minor threat, a reinforced one was a major one.

It suggested the Atlesians had put two and two together and realised her plan, or had an inkling of it. It suggested that Fort Reed now had a large force defending it, a force that may have brought supplies and materials to stockpile and ready for a prolonged siege, something Pyrrha could not afford. If the weather was any indication, it would be winter soon, and winters were the death knell of any campaign.

She needed to take Fort Reed now. She needed to occupy the coast before winter set in.

Pyrrha led her contingent of scouts ahead, slowly riding up a hill that overlooked the fields where she would have to either fight or prepare her siege camp. Fort Reed loomed in the distance. It was built atop a vertical cliff that led hundreds of metres down into the sea, where roiling white waves violently smashed against jagged rocks. A naval assault was completely out of the question, but it also meant the Fort couldn't be supplied by sea.

The Fort was well maintained, a lot better than Fort Maxim at Vulcan and the fort near Braygate. They were made entirely of stone, with towers, turrets and rows of parapets. The gates were made of wood and iron reinforcing it. She could see soldiers bustling about on the walls, carrying tar and rocks and bows.

She looked to her right, where fields spread for miles. Bessemer was a distant speck. If she could take it, then the war would be won. Atlesian supply routes would be too disrupted, and the ports along the coast would be vulnerable. She could bypass Fort Reed, but if the garrison held out against whatever forces she left behind to keep them trapped then they'd drain her resources and weaken her army. If whatever forces she left behind were too small to contain the garrison, then her army would be weakened and the Atlesians could retake the lands she had technically conquered whilst she was busy elsewhere. She would be cut off from her supplies and eventually destroyed if she didn't act fast enough.

No. Bypassing Fort Reed was too much of a risk, especially after it had just been reinforced. She sighed and surveyed the fields around the Fort. If she was going to have to besiege it she could at least do it right. Perhaps if some siege weapons were built quickly enough then-

The gates to Fort Reed opened. An Atlesian army spilled out. Pyrrha gaped at the sight.

Was she truly so lucky or were the Atlesians just idiots?

She could hear shouting and the gates were closed shut. The Atlesians didn't care, racing across the field towards her. Did they think she'd come alone?

She could admire them for taking the initiative, but she couldn't help but feel slightly insulted that they thought she'd be so stupid. Had they scouted the terrain? Did they know of her army lurking on the other side of the hill?

She shook her head.

"Bring up the vanguard." She ordered one of her guards. Have them come around the right flank and come up on the right side of the hill. Seventy-Five, do the same with the left flank. Send Duke Midas with the centre to reinforce us here."

Three of her horsemen turned and went to relay her orders. The Atlesians jeered and cheered and Pyrrha couldn't help but laugh. The Goddess was truly smiling down on her today!

"Dismount and form shields!" Pyrrha ordered, leaping from her horse and drawing her sword. Already she could feel the thrill of battle flowing through her veins and making her feel rejuvenated. "It won't be long before we're reinforced."

Then the battle would begin properly. Pyrrha smiled savagely when the Atlesians reached the bottom of the hill. Already she could hear the pounding footsteps and beating drums of her own army behind her. Today was shaping up to be a good day afterall, despite the weather.

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Qrow Branwen wasn't a general in any way shape or form. Hell, he wasn't even a proper lord, he'd lost his own fief afterall. But that didn't mean he was stupid.

Also, fireballs raining from the heavens was a clear sign things were going to shit.

"Incoming!" Cried a panic-stricken soldier. Qrow resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Only a blind man couldn't see the latest volley from the Mistrali catapults flying towards them.

Said catapults were hidden behind the wall built by the Mistrali, mirroring their own. Both armies had dug in, theirs with the ruins of Mantle to their backs whilst the Mistrali were essentially camping in the snow. A nearby forest had been decimated by both sides, for firewood and construction materials, and it was there where the bloodiest fighting took place as teams of foresters from opposing sides stumbled across one another.

With a whoosh and a thud the fireballs smashed into the ground. In reality, they were balls of hay slathered in oil and tar with jugs of flammable material waiting to be smashed in the middle of them. When they were, a wave of fire spread across the ground, lighting up some poor bastards who were too close as well. Soldiers screamed as their friends burned and others yelled as they tried putting out the fires.

It was like living in hell, fires lighting up the night, illuminating the eerie ruins behind them.

"Lord Branwen!" Panted a messenger. He wore the furs of a tribesman and couldn't be older than seventeen, beardless face flushed from the cold and glistening with sweat. "Chief Stone requests your presence."

"Lead the way kid." Qrow shrugged. 'His' soldiers could handle themselves, they had decent enough leaders amongst them. Far better than he ever was or would be.

'I curse the day I helped that old man.' he thought bitterly. 'I never thought there would be an actual bloody war, let alone that I'd be a commander in it.'

Qrow followed the boy through the bustling chaos of the Atlesian army camp. Already their own catapults were returning fire, lighting the dark air as their fiery projectiles arced through the air towards the enemy. Burned soldiers were dragged away from flames, either added to growing piles of dead or dragged towards growing tents of wounded.

It wasn't long before he met up with Chieftain Stone. The man could be stubborn and plain irritating at times, but Qrow wouldn't deny his bravery nor his honour with the fact he was willing to get down and dirty alongside his men. He was what a true leader looked like.

"Lord Branwen." Stone grunted, wiping sweat from his forehead. He'd been helping carry the wounded to safer areas. "We need a plan. Klein isn't here and we're slowly dying out here."

"We should give him a few more days. He knows what he's doing." Qrow replied cautiously. "I don't."

"You said that three days ago." Stone retorted. "We can't afford to camp out in the snow hoping the Mistrali will break before we do."

"We can. The Mistrali will be overextended, their supply lines strained. If we starve them out they'll be easier to defeat or they'll withdraw."

"In which case we'll have to deal with them some other day." Stone argued. "When they'll have recovered and gotten stronger after retreating. They've dug in as much as we have, they won't expect a large scale assault."

"And how well did that go last time?" Qrow asked rhetorically, and Stone grunted before turning away to stare at the field of fires around them.

"What do we do then? Wait until the world itself ends?"

"Seems like the end of times already." Qrow replied, before sighing and gesturing towards a quieter area. Soldiers were listening to their conversation unashamedly. "I need to tell you something."

Stone nodded and they made their way over to the quieter area. It was closest to Mantle's ruins, and Qrow shivered at the sight of the blackened, broken buildings. No-one really knew what happened to Mantle, and that just made it all the more worse.

"Have you ever heard of a life debt?" Qrow asked quietly and the Chieftain narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not an idiot Branwen." He replied lowly and Qrow held up his hands placatingly.

"Didn't mean anything by it. Just wanted to make sure because this next bit may take a little to get your head wrapped round it. Hell, even I don't really believe it happened and it happened to me."

The Chieftain stared at him perplexed and Qrow sighed.

"I'll get to the point." He said, and pulled out an amulet from his clothes. It was beautiful, intricate and barely visible in the night due its dark colours. It oozed an oppressive, cold aura of sheer malice. The Chieftain frowned at the sight of it, before making a sign with his hands.

"That does not seem good."

"It isn't." Qrow replied honestly. "I earned it after making a deal with someone I think to this very day is the devil. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that this could potentially summon a dragon."

"A what!?" Stone bellowed, and Qrow shushed him quickly.

"Exactly! So be quiet before someone gets curious." Qrow hissed, nodding to the soldiers who were busy fighting the fire from the latest Mistrali volley. Already he could hear the creaking of their own catapults as they prepared the next counter-volley. "I haven't used it and for good reason. The witch said the dragon would be loyal to me, but she may have lied in order to have me killed off. Even if the dragon is loyal to me, that wouldn't mean it would be loyal to our men."

"Get to the point Qrow." Stone snapped, eyes dark with mistrust. Qrow didn't blame him. If the Inquisition ever heard he had this they'd burn Atlas to the ground to remove his taint. That was if the Order of Drachentöter didn't get to him first. Qrow wisely kept such thoughts to himself. Artefacts and relics were viewed with distrust by many, and he wasn't one to argue the point, not when the physical evidence of what went wrong when powerful artefacts fell into the wrong hands were right behind him.

"I had Bragrim look at it before I left. He should be sending me his conclusions soon, if not now. If we wait and it turns out we can have a dragon on our side, then it would be best if we kept the Mistrali in one place, lined up in a nice big row and ready to be burned."

Stone said nothing. Their catapults whooshed and another wave of fire was launched through the air.

"Fine." Stone snapped. "But if this goes sideways I'll kill you. If your dragon can't be of use I'll kill it and then you."

And with those charming words he turned and stormed away. Qrow sighed and shook his head. He was really regretting his life choices right now.

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As a boy, James Ironwood had been taught two things. The first was that he would one day take his father's place as Lord Protector of Bessemer. The second was that he had two duties. To protect his people and serve his King.

James had done both. Or he liked to believe he had done both. Bessemer was supposedly thriving under the regency he'd established before setting for Vale to fulfil his new duties as the Governor of Vale, though from what he heard they mostly just ensured his edicts and that of his wife had put in place before leaving were upheld.

He'd returned to his homeland only once in his five years of service as Vale's Governor, to swear his fealty to his new monarch, Queen Weiss, and to be reaffirmed by her as the Governor of Vale. Unfortunately, he hadn't had the opportunity to visit his fief whilst in Atlas.

As for duty to his King, he liked to believe he had done that as well. James disagreed with the laws King Jaqcues had tried to implement, and he sympathised with the Faunus who rebelled, choosing not to go down quietly despite overwhelming odds. Despite that, he had fulfilled his duty to his liege and had put down the rebellion. Thankfully the Faunus were reintegrated mostly peacefully back into society and eventually Jacques repealed his laws due to their lack of success.

But how far was he expected to adhere to his duty?

Years ago, when he'd been the young general leading the armies of Atlas against the Faunus, he would've said his duty was his everything. In the name of honour he would have laid down his life in order to serve his monarch and kingdom, both Atlas and Vale.

But now…Now things are different.

Winter was sleeping peacefully, hair let loose and spread across their pillows. Their pillows. It was still so surreal he was married, let alone to a woman of fierce intelligence, skill and absolute beauty like Winter Schnee.

King Jacques had wanted to reward him following the rebellion, but did not wish to give away some of the many acres of royal lands he had under his control. The rebellion had made him paranoid, fearful of losing control. So instead he offered him Winter, as the birth of Whitely negated her position as heir, removing the threat of Winter lurking in his court and suitably rewarding James for his services without giving away any lands or revenue.

James couldn't have refused. If he did it would've been a grave insult, as he had no valid excuse to do so. He didn't have any children, no mistresses, no betrothals nor a wife.

Winter stirred, rolling onto her side and grasping around the side of the bed where he usually lay. She couldn't find him on account of him being sat at his desk, and he couldn't help but smile at the small frown on her face when she couldn't find him next to her. It was a far cry from when they had first met.

She'd hated him. He was her jailor in her eyes. She'd been replaced as heir, a position she'd been groomed for all her life, and now she was being married off to a lord, someone far below her in terms of social standing regardless of his recent exploits.

It had been a combination of time and the few freedoms he'd granted her that eventually thawed her opinion towards him. Although she never did so openly, she ruled by his side, having equal say with him and helping him make decisions. They had their disagreements, but James made sure to never sideline her or ignore her. Whenever he had to leave Emerald Vale to defend the border from Vacuoan raiders, it was always Winter he left to rule in his stead.

When he found out she had secretly been training herself to fight with a sword, instead of berating her he had helped train her. It was only common sense she knew how to defend herself, which was why he'd hired a trainer to teach her how to use knives and daggers as well. When she asked to hunt he had readily agreed so long she never went alone, something he didn't do either. They were important figures, thanks to his role and her blood. They needed to be guarded.

He knew some lords were far more liberal than he was. He also knew some lords were far more conservative than he was. He also knew he wasn't as cruel as others. But ultimately he didn't care. So long Winter was happy, but more importantly safe, he wasn't bothered what she did so long it wasn't blatantly wrong, like murder or adultery.

It took time. It had taken arguments and reconciliation. But eventually, somehow, somewhere along the way, they'd managed to learn to love one another, or at the very least tolerate each other. James wasn't entirely sure which if he was being honest. Love had always been a foreign concept to him, something he craved but had never received. At least not from his parents.

But with Winter things felt different. He wanted to be around her. He wanted to hear what she had to say, whether they were important things about governing or menial matters and small talk over dinner at the end of the day. He wanted to fight with her, duelling with her in shaded alcoves, marvelling in her speed and power despite being smaller than him. He wanted to feel her warmth in their shared bed, to feel her against him during the cool evenings. He wanted her. He adored her. She had become his everything, something far more valuable to him than his honour or reputation or anything else.

Which was why he wasn't sure how far he adhered to his duty these days.

The letter was innocuous. Plain. It was addressed to him by his last name and his titles. It was neat, fine cursive. And it was sealed with the unbroken wax seal of Mistral's Queen.

He had received it three weeks ago. He hadn't opened it yet. The day after he got the letter he had learned of a large Mistrali fleet heading north towards Atlas. He had sent a messenger to warn his Queen, but he wasn't sure whether they had gotten there in time or at all.

Ironwood wasn't a fool. A letter from Mistral's Queen, then an invasion force headed for Atlas? She either wanted him to surrender or defect.

Could he? Duty was his everything. So was his honour. But not anymore. Winter was his everything. What they had was his everything. The thought of losing that, of dying on some battlefield and never seeing her again, was something that terrified him to no end.

He didn't believe in the Gods. If they did exist, then they weren't something to be worshipped. If you had omnipotent power, the ability to do anything and everything however and whenever, then why was the world the way it was? Why was there famine and disease and violence? No. If the Gods existed they were cruel, and you never worshipped cruelty.

So death was death. It was one of the few definitive things in life. You die and your body rots. You die and that was it.

He didn't want to die. Not yet at least. He wanted to die an old man with Winter at his side. But if he fought and died then that wouldn't be possible.

"You're thinking too loud." Grumbled a sleepy voice, and Ironwood heard the sheets ruffle. He turned from the letter to the bed, where Winter was sitting up, stretching her arms and yawning. "It woke me up."

"My apologies." Ironwood replied, smiling at Winter's bedraggled look. Although she woke up quickly, she could still look half-dead long into the morning. "I shall endeavour to think more quietly in the future."

"Please do. You might hurt yourself." Winter said, slipping out of the bed elegantly, revealing the silk shift she was wearing. Ironwood looked away. He had to make a decision, and he couldn't do that if he was gawking at his wife.

"What's wrong now? Border troubles? The Mistrali haven't actually attacked Atlas, have they?" She asked, and he heard her padding over towards him. Her hands gently rubbed against his shoulders, and he sighed as they relaxed.

"Not to my knowledge." Ironwood replied before gesturing at the table. "The letter's weighing down on my mind."

"Still? Just open it and be done with it already." Winter said. "Send a letter back rejecting her before I have to kill the Queen of Mistral for trying to steal my husband."

"It's not a marriage offer." Ironwood sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Well we won't know if you won't open it." Winter grumbled, poking his cheek. Ironwood stared at it before reaching forward and opening it. "About time."

Ironwood rolled his eyes and read the letter carefully, practically feeling Winter do the same from over his shoulder.

"Join me or die blah, blah, blah. At least she offered to let you stay as Vale's governor for her." Winter mused, moving from behind him to instead sprawl across his lap like a cat. "Should we send her the heads of Mistral's diplomats as a rejection or just another letter?"

"What if we did neither?" Ironwood asked quietly, staring at the letter.

"Pardon?"

"What if we did neither."

"What are you trying to say James?" Winter asked, in a tone that bordered fury and horror.

"I don't know." He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back so his head faced the ceiling, trying to ignore the conflicted, confused look on her face. "I don't know."

"Talk to me." Winter demanded, poking his cheek. "Or else you'll be sleeping alone tonight mister."

He snorted, opening his eyes and raising a brow at her. She did the same. The stand off lasted all of one second before he caved.

"I don't want a war. I don't want to die on some battlefield far away from here."

'I don't want to leave you.'

Winter nodded. She heard the words he hadn't said. Nearly a decade of marriage did that.

"Then don't." She said.

"Then don't what?" He asked, slightly confused.

"Then don't die." She said adamantly.

"I'm scared of dying in battle and your advice is to just not to?"

"Yes. Don't die. Don't lose. Win the war, come home afterwards."

"Really?"

"Yes really. Do you want to die?"

"No."

"Then just don't."

Ironwood stared at her. She stared back trying and failing to hide the small smile curling at the corners of her lips. He tried to do the same, only to fail miserably and smile back at her.

"You're a hero James." Winter said fondly, with a hint of honest pride that made him feel like he was a young man again, capable of ripping his way through hordes of enemies. "You'll destroy the Mistrali the way you did the Faunus then come home afterwards. It'll be as simple as that."

Ironwood nodded. It wouldn't be as simple as that. They both knew it. But he appreciated the attempt to motivate him.

"As simple as that." He agreed, leaning forward to kiss her. She responded enthusiastically.

"When will you leave?" Winter asked, as they panted to recover their breath.

"As soon as Vale's forces are mustered." Ironwood replied, still a little dazed. "Why?"

"Just wondering." Winter said, though her eyes were glinting mischievously and her nails were trailing down his chest, leaving red lines. He didn't know why, but she always liked leaving marks like that, as if she was branding him and marking him as her possession. "I want to make the most of all the time we have left. Make sure you remember what's waiting for you when you get back."

He was going to say something. He wasn't sure what exactly. But she cut him off by kissing him again, this time with more gusto and fierceness.

They made the most of time they had that morning.

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"Get up boy."

Sun grunted as someone kicked his leg. He looked up and saw Hailan, a grizzled warrior of his fathers tribe.

"Your father wants you whelp. Get decent, pay the whore and come to Red Rock Ridge."

With that Hailan left Sun's tent and he groaned before rolling off the small pile of furs and silk. You didn't sleep under them, not in Vacuo's heat, but they were far more comfortable than sleeping on the floor.

It took him two minutes to find his clothes and get dressed. After leaving a few coins for the woman sleeping in his bed, he left the tent and made his way through the bustling camp. It was one of the few times they wouldn't be immediately moving on, having found an oasis three days ago and taking the time to refill the tribe's dwindling water supplies. They had been heading eastwards for days, and Sun could see the grey mountains and distant patches of green that was Vale.

He was surprised more people hadn't taken the respite from the constant moving to sleep in for half the day to avoid being baked by the slowly rising sun. But apparently the tribe was the tribe, which meant people were milling around doing odd jobs around the camp. He yawned and started to jog. He didn't want to anger his father any further by being late to whatever meeting he wanted.

The sand was already beginning to warm as he clambered up the dusty slopes towards Red Rock Ridge. It had been named as such three days prior when they arrived there. He wondered if it had other names from other tribes who had stayed at the oasis?

"Boy." His father grunted as he ascended the slope, sweaty and panting. "Took you long enough."

"Chief." Sun replied, bowing his head and slamming his fist against his chest.

"Sit." His father said, gesturing to a rock next to where he was lounging against the cliff face just behind Red Rock Ridge. Sun did so. "Do you know why I asked you here?"

"No Chief." Sun replied quickly and honestly. His father liked to keep things quick. Wars. Conversations. Movement. Sun pitied his mother sometimes.

"The tribe is marching to war. You'll be in command of the defence of the women and children whilst I lead the raiders." His father explained, and Sun quickly fell onto his knees and prostrated himself.

"You honour me Chief." Sun lied. His father gave him the job given to the liabilities, to those who would not earn glory through battle and plunder.

"I do." His father said, and Sun could hear the old bastard smirking even though he was staring at the dirt.

"May I ask where Chief?" Sun asked eventually, teeth grating together. Unless he wanted to show disrespect, he had to wait for his father to order him to stand once more. Whilst Sun was young he had no illusions as to how a fight between himself and his father would go.

"The greenness in the distance didn't tell you already, boy?" His father retorted mockingly. "We're going to Vale."

"We've raided Vale before." Sun said, voice hot and harsh the longer he was forced to prostrate himself underneath the baking sun.

"We have." His father replied bitterly. "But things are different now. The tribes are gathering. Mistral's Queen has paid us a lot of money to raid Vale whilst she wages her war."

"How will having more tribes change anything?" Sun asked, unable to contain his curiosity. When Vale had been its own kingdom, it would often wage wars against the tribes as each side raided across the border. Although it had been many years since the last, a great leader would often rally the tribes into one great tribe, The Children of the Sun and Sand. Each and every time they enjoyed an initial plethora of success, only to be defeated by the King's of Vale.

"Because this time the Mistrali will also be attacking from the east and the Valeans will have to send some of their forces to defend their masters in Atlas." His father answered, before he grunted and ordered him to stand. Sun did so. "Things will be different whelp. Once I'm done razing Emerald Vale with the other Chiefs, and if you behave during the war, then maybe I'll consider letting you lead your own warband. That means no whores, no parties, no drinking. Do you understand me whelp?"

"Yes Chief." Sun replied. His father grunted.

"We'll see. Now get out of my sight."

Sun did so.