To her eternal shame, this wouldn't be the first time Glynda had been locked up behind iron bars. Considering she was determined to live a long life in which she fulfilled her duty to her fullest extent, she doubted it would be the last time as well.
She sighed, leaning back until she felt the damp wall pressed against her mussed up hair. The guards had thrown her in there like a ragdoll before sauntering away after locking her inside. The fools. The Disciplinarian helped channel her magic, it didn't create it. Without it she would have struggled to unlock the key, but why would she do that when she could merely crush the iron bars with raw power?
But first she would have to wait for the guards to either wander off or fall asleep. The latter seemed more likely, as she could hear their increasingly slurred voices echoing down the corridors as they played some sort of game, likely something involving dice if the occasional clattering she heard was correct. Before long they would be snoring or silent, and then she would make her move.
Until then, all she had to do was wait. But that left her in the unfortunate situation of nothing to do, leaving her mind unoccupied and unwanted questions circulating around her mind.
Was it worth it? Her mission? Her duty? The life she had sworn herself to?
Was it worth it to be shackled to the whims of one group and its leader? Was it worth it to risk life and limb trying to prevent something that might not actually exist? Something that is a mere myth?
Was every sacrifice she had made, friend she had lost, enemy she had slain, was it for a just cause? Was it to prevent the world's ending? Was it to safeguard Humanity's future? Or was it all worthless, dozens dead and lost and the Enemy, the true Enemy, not having existed at all?
Was it worth it?
Glynda couldn't answer. She never really could. Her entire life was dedicated to the protection of Human and Faunuskind. But there were never any tangible benefits. Never any closure. One mission after another until she died or couldn't be used on them anymore, by which point she would be retired and used to tutor the next generation.
Another thing she doubted was worth it. Their duty was eternal, as was their Enemy, meaning they always had to look ten steps ahead. That meant training, and if necessary grooming, a next generation of heroes to work behind the scenes to prevent monsters blighting Remnant, to stop a war that would mean the end of all, including the world as they knew it.
But that meant all their sacrifices, all their battles and victories and losses were all just…worthless. They bought time, yes, and that was victory in and of itself but there was no conclusion. No decisive defeat or victory meant that Humanity could rest easy. That they could rest easy. She knew when she had been inducted into the group that it would mean a life of sacrifice, one full of risk and little fulfilment, but she had always believed that it would end up amounting to some sort of victory, a true, decisive victory over the Enemy..
For a girl who had been cast aside by her family for her natural ability for magic, the prospect of being something had been enough of a reward to satisfy her for the first few years. But time wore on. Familiar faces were replaced with new, fresher ones, and every time she was forced to watch the wanderlust, awe and innocence of the next generation that would succeed her and the few that remained of her own generation be destroyed just like hers had decades ago.
It was brutal, cruel and short. Glynda herself had lived far past along the usual lifespan of a guardian, with only one man surviving from her original cohort. The rest were gone by now.
Glynda blinked. It was as if a millennia had passed and suddenly she was staring at her cell wall, the moonlight shining through a small grate high in the corner of the room and sounds of snoring echoing down the corridor. Wasting no time, she leaped up and summoned her power, feeling it surge towards her hands as she directed it with her mind.
Her hands shimmered in a purple light before she unleashed it, unable to control it for too long without the aid of the Disciplinarian. The purple wave of pure energy surged forward, latching onto the metal bars of her cell like and falling on it like a warm blanket over a child's shoulders. Then the metal screeched and screamed as it was torn in on itself, crunched up into a ball before falling and clanging against the ground.
She stepped out, frowning at her hands. She had grown too reliant on the Disciplinarian to channel her power, something she would have to rectify in the future. The sound of something dropping and hitting the floor made her spin and raise her arms defensively, only to lower them as shock and relief ran through her at the sight of Robin's small form at the end of the corridor.
"M-Milady?" Robin asked, red eyes widening in awe. "Am I seeing things or is that really you milady?"
"Robin?" Glynda replied, a breath of relief exhaling from her. "Are you okay? Are you harmed? What happened?"
"I'm fine, just a little tired from the magic I did earlier." Robin answered, shifting on his feet and kicking what he'd dropped. Glynda raised a brow upon seeing they were a set of keys. "When I heard the soldiers coming I tried to warn you but I was too slow, and a whole group of them showed up so I hid in another corner-bit. Then I followed them here, looped back to the kitchens and brought them drinks. I played their weird dice game for a bit before they fell asleep and I took the keys to break you out."
"Thank you for the assistance Robin." Glynda smiled. "You've done brilliant work. Well done. Did you see if they had the Disciplinarian, my wand?"
"Yes milady!" Robin exclaimed, chest puffing out proudly at her praise. "Follow me! I thought I'd bust you out first because I didn't think it would be nice to be stuck in a cell. The older boys always hated going to jail."
Glynda hurried after him, passing the snoring guards that stank of mead and entering a poorly lit room filled with random odds and ends. Glynda assumed it was where all the belongings of prisoners were kept. She spotted the Disciplinarian and hurried over to it, sighing at the familiar feel of the weapon in her palm, before turning to Robin, who was resting against a shelf.
"We need to locate Ironwood." She told him, kneeling down so they were face to face. "I can do what I can to help him, and if he can be restored to health perhaps he can stop whatever madness that has gripped all of Vale as of late."
"Everyone used to agree the Lord Protector was an alright sort." Robin nodded. "Though Old Tom always used to say he'd like the Lord Protector a bit more if he accepted bribes like a good leader."
Glynda raised a brow at that. Her knowledge of Ironwood was limited to his standing and position, though a long time ago in what felt like a different lifetime he had been considered by her parents as a potential future husband. But that was in a time that had long since passed.
Still, it was good to know her barebones assumptions of the man were true enough. If someone like Robin, who had likely lived his life in the back alleys and darkest streets of Emerald Vale's Lower City, could hear good things about Ironwood then surely some of them had to hold a semblance of the truth.
Glynda had always been sceptical of the man, if not for the fact his mentioning made her remember her blood family who had abandoned her after she'd discovered her latent magical ability. His adherence to warfare and the way of the sword in suppressing the Faunus Rights Rebellion had also cast a pall on his reputation in her eyes.
With any luck, she would soon be proven wrong.
"The stories say Ironwood was wounded by an Inquisitor with some sort of magic or weapon." Glynda said, pausing for a moment. "If it is true it would explain why he has lived for so long without recovery or death. Any magic used by the Inquisition is tainted and made cruel. It is likely eating away at his soul as we speak."
"His what?!" Robin exclaimed, and Glynda quickly shushed him as one of the guards down the corridor snorted in his sleep.
"His soul." Glynda reiterated quietly, keeping one eye on the sleeping guards. "The Inquisition 'cleanses' any magic or magical object they seize. In reality they are corrupting it, tainting it with the essence of our Enemy."
"The enemy? The Mistrali?" Robin asked, eyes alight with a sickening curiosity that Glynda knew would one day be destroyed alongside his innocence if she committed to leading him down her path.
"Something worse than them." Glynda replied, quickly shaking her head. "But there is no time to explain it now. Can you use your magic to detect it? It should be similar to the magic that was used to exemplify Winter's grief and make it maddening."
"I don't think I can…" Robin murmured. "I still feel tired from last time."
"Just try." Glynda told him softly. "You don't need to push yourself, just try and reach out."
Robin was silent as he stared at the ground for a few moments, before he nodded and looked up, giving her a resolute before breathing calmly. She smiled encouragingly and his chest puffed out like a preening cat before he scrunched up his eyes and focused. Trails of sweat poured down his face and his hands clenched into shaking fists before he gasped and fell forwards. She reacted quickly and caught him before he could hit the cold, hard ground.
"Upstairs somewhere…I don't think I can walk…" Robin mumbled, and Glynda nodded, wiping away his damp, dark hair from his forehead and lifting him in her arms.
"I will carry you then." She said confidently, ignoring the strain. She wasn't particularly used to heavy lifting, once again having grown used to using her magic as a crutch. But she refused to make Robin walk after clearly forcing him to overexert his abilities and she would need to preserve her magic if she were to do what she could to heal Ironwood's wounds, which were likely mortal considering their nature. "Guide me when you can."
Robin nodded and mumbled into her shoulder, slowly guiding her through the dungeon, up into the quiet castle and towards a tower at the far corner of the Governor's Palace. Outside were two guards, who she quickly forced to knock one another out using her control over their armour before unlocking the door and heading up the winding stairs of the tower.
At the top was a single chamber that stank of herbs, incense and decay. Glynda retched instinctively at the smell and her eyes fell to the form in a single bed in the middle of the room, hidden by white sheets.
She propped Robin, who was now snoring quietly, on a desk near the door before barricading the room using suits of decorative prop armour she'd sighted on her way to the tower, forming a wall of iron soldiers that blocked the winding staircase. Then she shifted a few desks and chairs behind the wooden door, using a minute part of her magic to keep her makeshift army standing.
Then she approached the bed, hesitant and almost unwilling to see what lay beneath the bedding. The stench of rot was vivid the closer she got, as was the potency of the corruption eating away at Ironwood's soul. The Enemy's magic, the Enemy's taint.
Glynda summoned her nerves and yanked the sheets away from the covered form, breathing huskily, eyes wide as she saw the ruined form in front of her.
Ironwood's right arm was completely gone, and his chest was burnt and hollow. His lungs were intact but on the right side they were visible, and partly burnt and blackened. Bone white ribs were charred in the middle, showing precisely where the magic had struck. His skin was grey and his heartbeat negligible, the only sign of his being alive being the slow rise and fall of his breath accompanied by rattling breathing.
This was a man who had one foot in death's door. And somehow she would have to save him.
She pondered on where to even begin, before realising if she were to cast away the Enemy's taint immediately then Ironwood would likely perish, as it was the only thing keeping him alive, if only to prolong his suffering and devour his soul that was. She shook her head and stared at his egregious wound, pondering at her conundrum.
Magic was a powerful but specific art. Unless you were the holder of some sort of ancient power or relic, like a Maiden, then you would have to know what it is you wanted your magic to do. For example, Glynda had studied different locks intensively in order to understand their workings and how to manipulate the different metal parts with her magic in order to lock and unlock them.
In other cases you could utter a spell, like she had done to cast away the Enemy's influence over Winter and would do with Ironwood, but spells were rare but simplistic, lacking nuance. Glynda knew no spell that could just heal a missing part of a man's body.
An idea sprang to mind, and Glynda unbarricaded the door, dragged in the closest suit of armour and before barricading the door once more. She stood the armour next to the bed and studied Ironwood's unharmed left side, committing it to memory. Then she shifted and flexed her right arm, moving it in different directions and getting a feel for how her muscles were moving.
Praying under her breath to all the gods she could think of, Glynda raised the Disciplinarian, turning the suit of armour to mulch and closing her eyes as she envisaged her creation, slowly crafting half a body for Ironwood.
"Let this work, let this work, let this work." She muttered, remembering the shape and form of Ironwood's left half, the way her muscles had moved and shifted, the way they'd moved when she shifted one way and how they clenched when she moved another.
Then shouting, clanging and screams began to echo from below the tower. It seemed like she had been found out, and it was only a matter of time before Winter's guards fought through her armour and breached her little barricade.
Still she worked, doing her damndest not to let the sound of fighting distract her, even as they echoed closer.
Her tired arm shook from the effort of keeping the Disciplinarian steady. Her mind ached from the use of her magic and continued focus. Her muscles hurt under the straining of forcing herself to stay calm and steady even as axes began battering at the door. She quickly shifted Robin to the far corner of the room for safer keeping before staring at her creation.
Similar to Ironwood's left half, it had a line of plating at the stomach and a more circular plate closer to the chest. The arm was bulky but seemed to ooze power. She used her magic to make it grab the edge of his sickbed, and she gasped as the bottom left post of it was shattered into wood shavings and dust.
'Is there such a thing as too good a job?' She wondered amusedly, before the flash of an axe head smashing through the wooden door made her realise she was almost out of time. She carefully slotted the metal body into place, wincing at the sound of metal and flesh conjoining under the complicated mechanism of locks and nails she'd constructed. She lowered her head to his metal chest and calmed upon realising she could hear the distant echoes of his heartbeat.
"Hurry! The witch is doing something!" Barked the men outside the door, which was steadily getting pulverised into nothing. "Hurry!"
"James!" She heard Winter scream frantically. "I'll kill you if you touch him!"
Glynda said nothing. Actions spoke louder than words and only Ironwood could save her and Robin now.
"Libertas ex tenebris." Glynda muttered, and a lance of green energy shot from the Disciplinarian and into Ironwood's chest just as the door caved in and armoured men spilled into the room.
"Kill her!" Winter ordered, though Glynda could not see her as a wall of armoured, axe-wielding men advanced towards her. "James!"
Glynda raised her weapon, but she was too tired after expending so much magic and her aim was awkward as her arm shook. Robin stumbled over to her, terror clear in his shaking hands that he curled up into fists in some sort of mock fighters stance as he stood next to her.
Glynda frowned and swallowed, diving deep into the last dredges of her reserves to pull out some sort of magical energy. She would be damned if she just stood by and let those bastards hack her and Robin apart. They'd at least go down fighting first.
The armoured figures stepped closer, confident yet cautious. It was obvious she wasn't at her full strength, but they were wisely unwilling to risk that against an experienced magic user.
The axe head glinted in the dim candlelight. If she focused what was left of her magic on the smaller pieces of metal perhaps they'd stand a fighting chance.
A sudden sewing caught her off guard. She turned, readying her magic to deflect it, but it was clear to her she was too slow. Her life flashed before her eyes, and she could see the sharp gleam of the polished edge of the axe's blade.
Then it stopped, hovering inches from her face before there was a snapping sound and the axe head toppled to the ground.
"What the-What in the name of the gods is going on here?" Rasped a tired, unfamiliar voice. Glynda turned, eyes wide as she followed the metal arm to the pale, tired face of James Ironwood, eyes open and clearly exhausted, but alive- a far cry from being on death's door mere moments ago.
"Lord Protector!" The men gasped, falling to their knees, there was a commotion at the door and Winter Schnee entered, eyes widening before an indescribable noise of shock and joy emitted from her and she raced forwards, practically barrelign the man over as she threw her arms around his neck.
"W-Winter? I…What happened? What's wrong with my arm?" Ironwood asked, and Winter leaned back before her jaw dropped upon seeing the right side of his chest. Her gaze followed his arm until it met Glynda's own, and her face contorted into one of shame and guilt.
"You were dying. It would appear this witch has healed you." Winter offered, and Ironwood turned, quickly bidding his men to rise as he did so.
"Thank you, I am forever indebted for you for what you have done for me here. Is there any way I can start to repay you?" Ironwood asked sincerely, and Glynda smiled a rueful smile.
"Food and place to rest for myself and my ward if it isn't too much to ask." Glynda answered, gesturing toward Robin, who was staring at everyone suspiciously. "Apart from that, well, doing your job and protecting Vale. A lot has happened during your illness."
"I see." Ironwood said, giving them an appraising look before giving her a nod of respect. "Very well. Someone get them warm food, some drinks, fresh clothing and good quarters for the night. I will speak with you further tomorrow, miss…?"
"Goodwitch. Glynda Goodwitch. This is my ward, Robin."
"Thank you for helping your tutor, young one." Ironwood smiled at Robin, who waved awkwardly at the taller man. "I will speak to you some more tomorrow, Lady Goodwitch. In the meantime I'll get back to 'doing my job' as you put it. Winter, are you willing to catch me up on what I've missed in my office?"
"Of course James." Winter smiled, though there was a hint of hesitation. "Thank you for your help Lady Goodwitch, I'm sorry for doubting you."
"There's nothing to forgive." Glynda replied, and the other woman nodded before leading her confused husband out of the room.
Axe's tossed the side, one of the men who had been seconds away from murdering her just moments ago stepped close, offering a quick bow of respect.
"Follow me Lady Goodwitch, your quarters are in the North Wing, close Lord and Lady Ironwood's."
Glynda turned to Robin, whose eyes were dropping. She took his hand and gently led him after the guard, the boy rubbing his eyes as he did so. She smiled at the sight and walked on with a pep in her step and her head held high.
The hardest part, if she dared say it, of ensuring Vale's stability was now complete. Now all she had to do was convince Ironwood to co-operate with Arc to defeat the Mistrali and deter the Vacuoan invasion so that the plots and ploys and schemes of the Enemy's agents were foiled.
She shook her head. None of that mattered now. What mattered was that for the first time in a long time, Glynda felt victorious.
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"Your Majesty, the odds of success are incredibly low." One of her advisors warned quietly. "Our ice-breakers were only built to be utilised along the coast, in shallow waters liable to freeze easily in the harshest months of winter. We have no idea how effective they'd be at breaking the ice beyond their usual range and if we lose them or if they become damaged from the expeditions and we cannot repair them by the time actual winter comes around we'll be doomed."
"We're already doomed without supplies coming from Vale." Weiss retorted, maintaining her composure despite the welling guilt that always rose inside her during these meetings, where the consequences of her actions were brought up again and again without hope of it being fixed. Yet.
Her grip over the power of the Maiden was gradually growing stronger. It was easier to coax it over to her in the void, to use it to undo some of the damage they had done.
Roads were being reopened and villages unearthed. The land was gradually becoming wet and muddy, a challenge for logistics but a blessing for the future. It would be harder for snow to settle, meaning the coming winter may be slightly less harsh than usual.
Of course, the death toll was still coming in. Her father had implemented a streamlined, expansive administration that could easily count how many people, and how many tax each person owed, there was, something she had kept in place albeit at a less intrusive level than it had been. Of the one million recorded inhabitants in Atlas, around three hundred thousand were displaced, two hundred thousand missing and a further twenty-three thousand dead. The number of deaths was likely higher, as it was hard to find and identify corpses in a quick manner. Either way, her actions had affected the entirety of her Kingdom, over half of it suffering because of her and her actions alone.
She had to fix, she would fix it. She just needed time, something she didn't have as famine ravished the land. The sea lanes needed to be opened once more, before the food awaiting transit in Vale's ports were spoiled.
"It is too much of a risk, Your Majesty." The advisor reiterated, though it was clear he was uncomfortable putting up much of a fight. The bulk of her old council were missing, having either been sent to lead her armies against the Mistrali or returning to their fiefs to safeguard their families and people. Her interim advisors were lacking the skill, experience and overall quality of her former advisors, something she sorely wished to rectify. She would make do for now. There was too much at stake for petty annoyances to upset the status quo further. People needed stability, even if that stability meant resorting to second-rate councillors.
"What is your solution to our problem then my lord?" Weiss asked, and the man stared at the table resolutely. "Well? Famine threatens our people and you have rejected my proposition for rectifying that. Do you have a solution of your own which you wish to present to us?"
"I…No, Your Majesty." The man answered reluctantly, never once breaking his gaze from the table to meet her own. "I'm afraid not."
"Do any of you?" Weiss demanded, feeling her irritation rise despite herself. She was met with silence, until a portly lord with a pudgy, red face snorted and spoke up.
"Why worry about the peasant's? They breed like rabbits and by the spring we'll have enough of them to work the fields and by the summer they'll have replenished their numbers. It's the cycle of life. As far as I'm concerned all we need to do is make rationing stricter and fortify our keeps to stop the bastards breaking down our doors and taking what they want."
"You would turn away those seeking aid, seeking food, when they and theirs are starving?" Weiss asked politely, and the man took it as a positive response to his proposal. The rest of them, at least, recognised the fakeness oozing from her tone and posture.
"If it was needed." The lord sniffed, seeming to notice the quietness from his colleagues. "Of course this is all hypothetical-"
"Get out." Weiss ordered softly, voice cutting through the room as if she'd just shouted louder than a dragon and from the peak of the highest mountain.
"Y-Your Majesty?" The man stammered. "Surely-"
"Nightingale." Weiss ordered. The man didn't deserve another chance to leave of his own accord, not after what had just happened.
"Your Majesty." The captain of her guard acknowledged, stepping forward and lifting the man up forcefully. "You heard the queen."
"A-Apologises, I didn't mean-"
"Just get out." Nightingale interrupted, shoving the man forward towards the door. "Hurry it up, you're interrupting important Crown business."
The man's protests could be heard echoing down the corridor until the sound of jangling armour chased it away. Nightingale soon returned, closing the door behind him and offering her a quick nod.
"Thank you Captain." Weiss said, before turning to her silent council. "Does anyone have any proposals to solve our dilemma?"
She was met with silence. She tolerated it for a few minutes before biting down a sigh.
"Very well." She said, "Contact the Lord of Kingsport and instruct him to utilise his ice-breaker ships to reopen our sea lanes with Vale. Issue edicts that the Crown will pay for the construction of three dozen new ice-breaker vessels and a reward of three lien to every fisherman that brings back a foot of ice from the ocean. The sooner we clear the seas to Vale, the sooner we can rest easy knowing our people are safe from are all dismissed, thank you for your continued service."
"If I may, Your Majesty." One of the advisors, a usually quiet fellow, spoke up suddenly, stopping some of those who had made to rise. "What of the wizard who caused this catastrophe in the first place?"
"What do you mean?" Weiss asked, trying to remain emotionless at the mention of Old Bragrim.
"It's just that the man in question served in your council for a time prior to the event." The advisor continued. "I was just wondering what measures the Crown would take to bring him to justice after all he has done."
"I admit." Said the advisor who had spoken earlier. "This thought has plagued my mind for a while now."
The others muttered agreement, and Weiss surveyed them all before turning to the one who had began the line of questioning.
"We will issue a bounty for him after the construction of the new ice-breakers." Weiss proclaimed. "They are our absolute priority. After that, I will cancel the bounty hunt put in place by my former betrothed and introduce another that will target Bragrim alone so he becomes the sole focus of the bounty hunter's efforts. Any objections?"
"None Your Majesty." The usually quiet one said, inclining his head in her direction. "I was just curious, and you have put my fears to bed."
"I am glad." Weiss retorted. "If that is all?"
The councillors mumbled the usual pleasantries before exiting the room, leaving her and Nightingale alone.
"What was the name of the one who spoke up at the end who is usually quiet?" Weiss asked, kicking herself on the inside. She was usually much more attentive of the goings of her court, but the tiredness of long nights of meditation combined with the few hours of restless, haunted sleep she had had made her slack in recent weeks.
"The quiet one? He is Lord Oobleck's heir after his elder brother died in the recent magic storm thing. I think that's why he was so bothered about hunting down the old wizard." Nightingale answered, and Weiss nodded, wishing she could return to simpler times.
"See if Lord Zeki has recovered enough to resume his post as my spymaster." Weiss ordered. "In the meantime I'll start authorising the payment for those new ships. The gods know the treasury is bleeding as it is after the war and now this disaster."
"Things'll get back to normal soon enough, Your Majesty." Nightingale said, somewhat awkwardly. "It has to get worse before it gets better right?"
"Right." Weiss snorted, tension easing if for just a second. "Thank you for all your work Nightingale, you've been a life-saver these past few months."
"It's just my job, Your Majesty." Nightingale replied. "It helps you're a good Queen, it's obvious you care about us peasants. You're good at your job and that makes me want to be good at mine."
"I'm glad I'm doing a good job in someone's eyes then." Weiss smiled, though it was forced due to the feeling she did not deserve the man's loyalty, not after what she had done. "Dismissed captain, and if you ever need a day to relax then don't be afraid to ask for it."
Nightingale shook his head politely as he bowed before leaving quickly, leaving her to her thoughts. She took the moment alone to sigh before standing up and leaving the room, heading to her study. She would need to take another look at the treasuries' latest numbers before she paid for those new bloody boats.