Sumire was a town for those who wanted to get away from Vale's supposedly excessive regulations and get rich by mining Dust. Altar, meanwhile, was a town for those who found themselves hampered by the urban life of the kingdom and wished to return to the simpler life of the countryside. It was established in the middle of the dense forests of the Frontier, its houses and streets hiding behind the shade of tall looming trees, and many of its inhabitants were either animal herders or hunters. Through occasional trade with Sumire - whenever the paths of the forest were safe enough to traverse - they'd provide the kingdom with good-quality meat, always a welcome sight on Valean tables.

This hunting proficiency is also what protected Altar from Grimm. Sumire defended itself with mountains and walls, Altar - with several hunters who could turn their weapons on Grimm just as well as they could on wild animals. It was not a reliable means of defense, yes, and many of the people here knew that they would be safer in Vale, but a little bit of stubbornness and a belief that they could make the best of it here, went a long way.

Yche's father, Dagda Querca as the townsfolk knew him, allowed the Ranger team to carry their sleeping prince into his house - a small, quaint, functional homestead built out of oak wood and still carrying that particular, slightly damp scent. A tough wooden couch, with very thin cushions sewed out of wool, was repurposed for him and so he was lying on it, face towards the ceiling. Yche and Reza were also in the room - one might say that they were "standing guard", but, in truth, each of them was immersed in their own troubles. Reza was by the table, which was wide, bulky and carved out of birch - her notebook was at hand, while several ripped out notes were scattered throughout the table, alongside a map that she pulled out of her backpack. At a moment, she'd be scribbling something down, then another moment, she'd stop, turn her eyes back to the map, and sigh - so on and so forth for some time now.

Yche stood by the window, her expression downcast, her fingers tapping on the windowsill. She couldn't tell what her friend, slash, commanding officer was thinking - Reza kept to herself ever since yesterday, even Ashen wasn't able to get through her shell, as far as she's seen - but Yche was overwhelmed by a perfectly horrible blend of anxiety, frustration, and the desire to do something to help. She barely managed to force herself into a three-hour nap before the thoughts layering down on her woke her up once more.

The door of the house opened with a familiar shriek, and Ashen immediately jumped in, shouting:

"We're back!" Once again, she's back to her usual happy-go-lucky attitude - even if both Yche and Reza could tell that it was never going to feel the same to them. Dagda stepped into the house next and followed after the Ranger.

"Ya all caught us unprepared, but we should be able to shelter all the refugees you brought for a few days at least," he explained after a sigh. "Beyond that, though, it gets tricky. Even assuming everyone in the town continues cooperatin', we don't have the supplies to feed everyone for a long time, and this many of 'em in one place is bound to attract Grimm, too."

"Right... still, thanks for the help, Dad," Yche answered, her words briefly stopping mid-sentence as yet another cause for concern cropped up. "Back in Sumire, we were panicked and lacking other options. I recalled that we all live not far from there, and so offered to lead us here. We'll... try to figure out how to keep everyone safe and sheltered from here on."

Ashen, meanwhile, walked up to the couch and leaned over to stare at the sleeping prince. "Fee-Fee's still not woken up?" she asked. Instead of an answer, however, she received a blunt, sudden statement from Reza:

"Please stop that."

"Stop what? Stop hoping he wakes up?"

Reza raised her eyes off her notebook and shook her head with a sigh. "No, you dolt. Stop with all these damned diminutives. This isn't the time nor the place for your childish teasing."

Ashen lightly groaned under her breath and walked up to Reza. "I'm just trying to keep up everyone's spirits a little... I don't want all of us to degrade to moody depression just because we've gotten embroiled in this mess." Once she stopped behind Reza, she peeked over the blonde girl's shoulder to look at her notes. "What are you writing?"

Reza was a bit frustrated, but she figured she'd humor Ashen for now. "I'm writing down a report on what happened yesterday. Once we return to Vale, I'll hand these papers over to the Ranger Corps."

"Really? You're doing it now?"

"...Yeah, when else? Best to write down what we saw when it's still fresh on my mind. And I can't leave anything out. If the rest of the Corps reacts to a Mantlean attack as slowly as we did, then we really are doomed - so, the command needs to know what we're dealing with in advance."

Ashen leaned up, then pointed her finger at one of the lines in the current draft. "Wait, are you sure that is how you wanna word that? How about..."

Soon, the two women began arguing about the Mantlean bombardment campaign - both of their voices still a bit hesitant, knowing that they were discussing something that had just taken so many lives, but increasingly engrossed regardless. While they were distracted, Dagda walked up to his daughter, placed his hand on the windowsill next to her, and said:

"So, I... since it's been a while and I'm not sure how long you're staying, mind if I ask you something, Yche?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

The man looked over towards the rest of the room in thought, towards Ashen and Reza, and then Firre. "You've passed your exams. That's amazing, I knew you had it in you. But... seeing the posse you've returned here with, and the story you've told... I should guess that you won't be coming back for some time, then? You'll stay in the Ranger Corps?"

For a second, he and Yche turned towards at one another, and, after building up the courage, the daughter confirmed:

"I need to."

"Yeah, that's what I expected you to say," Dagda answered, his voice defeated. "Unfortunately."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Yche's confused question got her father to let out a deep, heavy sigh. He placed his hand on his daughter's shoulder - she couldn't recall the last time he was so serious with her. "Look... I can tell. Ya just got a chance to venture out into the world and be a hero for so many people, and deep down, that's clearly what ya always wanted. Not a far cry from ya mother there. But... this is a dangerous line of work. And besides ya, I don't have much else left in this world anymore. I just want you to know that as incredible as it may be that you've become a Ranger, it's still gonna be a bit torturous for your old pop to watch."

The last sentence briefly got stuck in Dagda's throat, and the sadness in his voice got Yche to freeze. Still, she steeled herself, and answered:

"I know, Dad. If this were any other situation, maybe I'd follow you, too. But I have to do this. This is exactly what Mom would've done in my situation, no?"

Touching that open wound didn't relieve her father of his worries, though, quite the opposite - which immediately got Yche to stammer and try to adjust herself.

"I-But I'll do even better than her, I swear! I carry not just what Mom taught me, but what the Academy did, too - and-well... so I'm already some ways ahead, ain't I? Once this war is over, I'll get home in one piece, I promise. And then, I'll be a huntress of Grimm, just like she was, and..."

"Of course, of course," Dagda interrupted her before she could go any further. "Don't go too far. Ya just gonna make me even more worried if ya swear to come back safely five times in a row." He smiled, amused, and tapped his hand on Yche's shoulder. "Fine then. Once y'all move out, this whole town is gonna be waiting for you."

Reza and Ashen's conversation, still going on in the background, went through several points of contention in the analysis of yesterday. Suddenly, the latter yelled:

"-you can't just claim that Firre lost that fight! None of us saw how it went!"

"We saw what condition it left him in, though," Reza protested, in a somewhat dismissive tone. "And it was a duel of one against one. In a battlefield situation, a soldier in Firre's place would be targeted by attacks from multiple directions and would have certainly be killed." Yet, Ashen did not let go:

"So would that Invulnerable, though. And as long as you don't know how that battle really went, all you're doing is grasping at straws. Why don't you just get a testimony from Firre about that fight's course?"

"Get a testimony on what?" Firre's voice suddenly rang out. Replying as if on instinct, Ashen managed to say a "See, he can-" before she and everyone else in the room turned towards the couch. The prince was slowly raising his head off the cushion, clutching onto it with his hand, while keeping himself balanced with the other elbow. He looked up, witnessing four sets of eyes focused squarely on him.

"Firre..." Yche began, her tone surprisingly accusative. "Please don't tell me you were pretending to sleep this whole time..."

"I wasn't," he answered, pulling himself to a sitting position. "Well, not quite. Once all of you began talking, I started waking up - but, since none of you were in a rush, I guessed that you all managed to get everyone away from danger, and so there was no reason for me to jump to my feet." For a second, Firre's eyes scanned his surroundings, observing the wood-sculpted room behind his teammates. Judging from the fact that we're in a house, and by that middle-aged man next to Yche... I'm guessing she did manage to lead us to Altar after all. It was relieving, yet all that perception of relief was washed over by guilt regardless. "I'm... really sorry, everyone."

"Sorry for what?" Ashen asked. The sincere, innocent-sounding question got Firre's eyes to shift away. He clasped his hands and looked down to the oaken boards.

"This..." A deeper tone to the voice. "This was my burden to bear, not yours. I explicitly tried to avoid pulling you into whatever was to happen in Sumire - yet, you've all gotten involved regardless, and that means I failed."

Yche made a step forward. "Huh, what? Firre, had we not arrived there, you would have gotten captured by the Mantleans, or even killed!" As true as it was, it did not phase the prince at all - he turned his face towards her and shot back:

"That is irrelevant."

"But..."

"Keeping all of you, and everyone else, safe is my duty. That's the only way I can justify this..." Firre looked down at his hand, briefly clenching his fist. "...strength that the world has decided to grant me. It doesn't matter if taking the blows from Argo, or anyone else, gets me endangered or hurt - as long as I am making sure that all of them are falling on me, not on any of you or anyone else, then I am using my powers correctly."

Firre's confession left the room silent. For a second, the three women processed his words. Ashen recalled his words when the two of them were alone in the depths of the mines - they had the same ring to them. The same theme, the same vow to keep the three of them coddled from danger even if it means taking every single dagger to his back. She sighed and sat down on the couch, next to the prince - Reza, meanwhile, finally spoke up:

"Listen, Firre, there are a lot of things you need to explain yourself about, and to apologize for, but this... this is not one of them."

"We're not a team of clueless students you're taking for patrols around the streets anymore, Firre," Ashen joined. "We're soldiers now. Much like you think you have a duty to keep us safe, we have duties, too - and one of those duties is to ensure that the people of Vale, and the heir to the throne, are safe at all times."

"And even if you did have a point, we're all in this together now. There's a whole town-sized group of humans and Faunus we've all got to bring back to safety, you know. Moping about getting others involved isn't going to get us anywhere."

He knew that, obviously. At the back of his mind, an ever-pervading sense of logic whispered to him that he's bitten more he can chew and he might not even be able to return to Vale without relying on others. Asking for help and working together was fine, but... not when getting others in danger, and possibly killed, was on the line. If he had to witness any one of the trio die, then he could never forgive himself for having placed them in the line of fire from the very beginning.

And yet... in spite of what each of them had witnessed yesterday, and in spite of the horror, fear and hesitation he remembered engraved on their faces, all of that has been pushed aside, and each one of them appeared more determined to continue the struggle than ever before. When glared at by such certain, convinced eyes, how could he really fight back?

"...Fine. There's no arguing it now," Firre said, rising to his feet. "The Mantlean fleet is going to strike this town tomorrow. What's the plan thus far?"

Reza raised her eyebrow. "Wait... you mean, tomorrow? How are you so sure about that?"

"I don't have any clear information, but I'd be extremely surprised if they didn't. Down in the Sumire Mines, Argo was there for me, he wanted me captured - and he worked with Velinn, who was intending to fly away in a Mantlean airship. Those three must have been working together - and I doubt they have given up on this capture plan just yet. They are going to be hunting after me, and, by extension, everyone in this town."

Ashen joined the discussion next. "So... we have to flee again, then? But where?"

"But... that means everyone in Altar needs to leave, too - and we are already overloaded by refugees from Sumire..." Yche muttered, her voice trailing off before she could list off even more issues on their shoulders.

"Correct. And even if moving everyone here was possible, there simply isn't any other town that's safe from Mantlean attacks. Plus, them occupying Sumire means we can't even head to the mountains, either. It's immediately obvious that we have our backs against the wall."

"Hold on..." Reza suddenly stepped to the table and began shuffling through papers. "This can't be over." She pulled out and then slammed down a map of eastern Sanus - from Vale on one edge to the oldest Mistralian colony of Suchan on the other. Reza had sketched on it before, drawing a striched line and a skull and bones to note which half of the continent was already under Mantlean or Mistralian control. Obviously, bringing a caravan of refugees through that territory, led by Valean troops, would be impossible.

Firre stopped by the table next, pointing at the skull sign. "This is what I'm talking about. Mantle has Fort Typhon, their main military base on Sanus, and Mistral's Invulnerables are operating out of the city of Suchan - getting any closer to them would just lead to all of our internment. If it was just myself, alone, I would take that risk, but there's no telling what they would do to the rest of us. Certainly, the Faunus we're bringing will be re-enslaved, and all of you would be taken prisoner and used as bargaining chips to force our Kingdom's surrender. I'd rather us not get to that."

"Why not go this way?" Reza trailed her finger on the gap between Altar and Mountain Glenn, in the mountains to the south. "If we get to Mountain Glenn, we can-" Already, Dagda and Yche were starting to shake her head, and she interrupted her:

"That would be impossible."

"Too dangerous, I assume?" Firre asked her. It was her father who answered instead, saying:

"The mountains around Mountain Glenn are filled to the brim with Grimm. Were it not for the city's defenses, it would already be overrun, I imagine - this means that if you approached it from the other direction with all these defenseless refugees, they would just get slaughtered."

Reza started going through other options. "Wait out in the forests, maybe?"

"Wait out for what?" Firre answered her question.

"I'm... not sure. The rest of the Ranger Corps should move to the Frontier eventually, no? If we hold out somewhere until then, we can establish contact and bring everyone back to safety."

"I'm... not sure. It seems that the Mantlean fleet does have trouble targeting opponents out of sight, sure - but there's no telling how long it would take for everything in Vale to mobilize. And even if my father does send a relief force here, if they aren't warned about what Mantle has deployed in advance, they would... get slaughtered. They'd need to bring heavy firepower, not just a larger number of rookie Rangers like you all."

Ashen, who remained out of the conversation for some time, suddenly placed her hands on the table on the other side with a loud thud. "I've got... an idea. A crazy one, though. Probably... probably insane."

"At this point, all we've got left are crazy ideas - sure, shoot."

"Let's head to Suchan."

The entire crew around the table went silent, and Firre, after shaking away a dumbfounded stare, answered her:

"You know, I underestimated how crazy your idea would be."

"That's in the middle of Mistralian territory!" Reza yelled, leaning over the table and pointing at Ashen. "It's... it's their largest base! A town of maybe a hundred thousand people! We can't get even close to it!"

"No, no, listen..." Ashen gestured with her hands to try to get her peers to calm down. "I just... thought about what you had just said. If we figure out a way to hide everyone from Mantlean artillery fire - not necessarily in the forest, just... if there's a way - and have everyone fall back with the intent of waiting out until relief arrives, then what we need to do is to slip a small group past enemy lines and get them back to Vale so they can inform everyone what's going on. Then the rest of the Ranger Corps can deploy an effective counterattack and liberate both Sumire and Altar!"

"But... okay, but why Suchan?! That's literally the other side from Vale! Why not just... make our way through the mountains?"

"Well..."

Ashen held onto the edge of the table with her hands, a faint grimace forming on her face. She wasn't sure whether to pop the lid off this part of her life just yet, and if she could, she would have kept it sealed forever, yet, it appeared that she had no choice.

"There's... someone I know in Suchan. He operates beyond the law, and I am not certain that I can trust him... but I think I would be able to convince him to help us. All we would ask for is shelter and sneak passage into a ship, and we'd be able to safely return to Vale, faster than we would if we were trekking through the Grimm-infested mountains."

"I... w-well... you... we..."

While Reza was stammering, thinking of ways how to easily shatter the viability of the plan, Yche nudged her father with her elbow.

"What?" he asked.

"Do you remember the, uh... that one time I vanished when I was seven years old...?"

They both were hushed, to not draw too much attention to themselves, but Dagda briefly raised his voice in confusion regardless. "Huh? Why's that any relevant?"

"Look, look... see, you didn't just find me anywhere, remember? I wandered off towards the direction of the mountains, and I found a weird entrance, and next thing anyone knew, I was wandering an abandoned mineshaft down below the surface. Or, well, at least it seemed like a mineshaft..."

"...What are you getting at?"

"The entrance to that abandoned mineshaft-or-whatever-thingy is not too far from Altar, but it's also obscure and difficult to find - and since it's underground, everyone in there would be safe from Mantlean bombardment, and all they'd really have to worry about are possible ground troops, so..."

That's when Yche realized that it wasn't just her father who was looking at her. Even though her voice was somewhat hushed, once Reza and Ashen had finished talking, everyone's attention was drawn to her - and the ideas she was putting forward. Immediately, the tall Ranger stammered and began defending herself:

"I-Of course, this is just an idea. It's nothing definite, and I can already think of a few ways how it wouldn't work. Food supply, for one..."

"No, no, that idea has got potential, I think," Reza paused her before she continued rattling off worries. "Think we could... pull off something like this? We'd get the town ready to evacuate today, then, tomorrow morning, move everyone into the mineshaft, leave some of the Rangers there to keep them safe from Grimm and Mantlean soldiers, and then send a small team to Suchan to... get back to Vale and inform everyone about what is going on and what Mantle has."

"...We'd be abandoning everyone," Firre declared, bluntly. "If you all decide to go with this plan, then I am staying in Altar."

Immediately, Ashen shook her head, while Reza tapped her finger on the table and sighed in disappointment. "No dice, Firre. You need to return to Vale so you're no longer at risk of being kidnapped."

"I can survive that. I'm not going to leave all these innocent people behind."

If this isn't resolved, their plan might end up botched before it even begins. A sneaky plan formed at the back of Ashen's mind. She hid away the faint smirk that formed as soon as she thought of it, then began:

"So, you are going to leave us all to die, then, Firre?"

"I-uh, what?"

"We are going to head to Suchan regardless of whether you are coming with us or not. And, if you don't, all the world's dangers that you swore to protect us from will be out of your reach, right? I'm seriously worried it might be too much for me all alone, so..."

The color in Firre's face quickly drained. "...Fine then. I'll tag along with you." He did realize that he was being played, but, at that point, he had already surrendered.

"I have no choice but to leave for Suchan as well. Should I not be present, the Ranger command might think that you've all done a mutiny," Reza said, then turned her eyes to Yche. "And you, Yche... I suppose you're staying here?"

Before the tall Ranger could say anything, however, her father placed his hand on her shoulder, speaking ahead of her:

"Go with them. You'll be of more use keeping ya friends safe than stuck in the mineshaft for weeks over here."

"Ya think so...?" Yche's voice briefly trailed off, but then she raised her hand with a fist and shouted with enthusiasm. "All right! If that's the plan, then I'm all for - and so let's get ready! I can show everyone the way to enter the shaft in advance - but I assume we all should get everything packed up, warn everyone, prepare the food, right?"

Firre folded his arms. He looked down at the ground. It should have been a little relieving, to have at least a vague idea of what their plan was - yet, his face did not show any enthusiasm.

The Rangers' first day in Altar passed quickly. Once their commanding officer led Firre out to the open and they were introduced to their next plan in the town square, all the troopers received new orders and scattered. The refugees, the freed slaves and the inhabitants of Altar were informed that they have to get ready to move again, for an indeterminate amount of time, all while food was being hastily stored. Long lasting reserves were preferred, and rationing tables were being drafted in advance. The same was applied to other crucial supplies - water, medicine, bandages, Dust and ammunition, among others. For the Rangers, most of whom had been students merely a week ago, this was a new experience - though they learned and practiced disaster control a little during their time in Lantern Academy, most of their time, and indeed personal attention, was spent towards dueling and fighting prowess, rather than such managerial procedures. Thankfully, their commanding officer had a knack for that stuff.

Reza permitted the unit to have a quick sleep and get ready to wake up really early tomorrow. They had no time to waste. Though the Mantlean Fleet appeared to be rather slow, they were going to come here relatively soon - so they'd better move out and vacate this town sooner rather than be caught unprepared later.

Firre sat on his bed, his corner shrouded by the night's darkness. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't sleep. Every time, an unwanted thought would barge into his mind, forcing him awake. He was still worried. He was still frustrated. He was still angry. He was still confused. He was still...

...afraid.

He rose to his feet. There were six other people cramped into the ground floor of the house - the three girls and three other Rangers, all sleeping sound. At least, they did not raise any attention to him standing up. Carefully, Firre stepped outside and looked up. It was the middle of night, and the shattered Moon was shining bright above. Today was the day when the expanse of its fractured chunks could best be seen with the naked eye - to this day, humanity had no idea why the Moon looked like this while seemingly every other star and planet in the night sky were whole, but it was mesmerizing nonetheless.

Immortal...

Argo had told him many things, but of them, this word got stuck in Firre's mind. Perhaps it was a paltry concern to worry about, knowing their deplorable situation and nonzero chance of death in the next twenty-four hours, yet...

What did Argo mean by that? It was how he described Firre's father, King Ozymandias. From the tone, it was clear that the Mistralian warrior was familiar with him beyond the common knowledge of the rulers of the four kingdoms. Hell, he even called him "Oz" - Firre had only heard that nickname be used among his family.

With thoughts swirling in his head, the prince went on a walk. The town was silent and the air was tranquil, as if the war had not yet begun and the world was still in its peaceful antebellum slumber. Even the air was still - it almost felt a little ominous, being surrounded by forest, yet hearing no movement of the leaves. Firre did not mind it, though - fewer distractions from his thoughts.

Building on that, it feels a little as if there's a lot more to the start of the war than just international struggles... I still don't have a clear explanation for what was happening in Vale before I arrived here, there was clearly some sort of underground conspiracy to raise the tensions that was not necessarily involved with Mantle. Now the fact that one of the agents possibly involved in this conspiracy knows my father personally, and hints that there's something about him that's more than meets the eye, and-

"Huh?" Firre yelped and placed his hand on the handle of his sword. "Who's there?"

He was certain that he had just heard something in the distance. A sound that wasn't natural. It came from the forest, I think... Slowly, he walked past the houses and stepped into the woods, carefully walking through the moss and grass to avoid bringing attention to himself. Now that he was closer, the strange sound became clearer, and the prince could finally identify it.

Music. Music?!

He couldn't believe his own thoughts, yet it was unmistakable. Somewhere in this forest, someone was playing a beautiful, entrancing melody. What? But... who? Curiosity alone forced Firre to investigate. Carefully, making sure to create as little noise as possible, he traversed the forest, keeping himself hidden behind trees and bushes. The music was growing louder. Oddly, even though the tune was quite entrancing, it kept getting paused and stopped right as it was starting to pick up, every single time. As if whoever was playing it didn't want to continue...

Firre's trip led him towards a small clearing, between two tall oak trees forming a natural arc. Silva sat by one of them, playing with her pungi.

For her, it's been an awful twenty-four hours. She reached the approaches of Altar alongside the rest of the refugee caravan, having followed it and slaughtered Grimm for hours, but she didn't hold even the illusion that she could simply walk into town. She spent the rest of the day in hiding, sneaked in a few times to steal food without anyone noticing. Even music practice was going terribly. She simply could never get the notes right.

Why am I even trying? Why is she trying to return to Vale? Why is she doing anything at all?

Right as she removed her instrument from her lips, a voice from behind her said:

"That was great, you're quite talented."

Silva instantly recognized the voice and jumped to her feet in panic. Firre was looking at her, his stance relatively casual - immediately, she pointed her pungi forward with shaking arms and a frightened stance. It wasn't merely because she was just found out by one of the Valeans. The last time she saw the prince in front of her, he was coldly executing Velinn - who's to say that he wouldn't do the same to her? After a gulp, Silva asked exactly that:

"Are you here to kill me?"

Truth be told, the thought did cross Firre's mind - Silva clearly was not innocent and was working for some kind of agenda. Yet... whatever motivated her was definitely different from Velinn's greed or Argo's insane lust for battle. She wasn't nefarious and giggling under her breath, she was frightened, cornered, she was frustrated at the world. And he... wanted to know how her thought process worked.

"I want to understand you, Silva," he said. "Who you are. Why you did the things you did."

Perhaps, once he figures her out, he can decide what fate should befall her. For now, to show his peaceful intentions, Firre removed his hand off his sheathed sword's handle and displayed both of his hands. It hardly made Silva any more courageous, however.

"Why... why should I believe you?"

"What do you mean 'believe me'?"

"That you... well..." Though still tense and ready to jump at any moment, the Faunus girl lowered her pungi. "Why should I believe that you care about any of this? That you want to understand me?"

"Why wouldn't I want to?" It may have been genuine confusion for Firre, but Silva interpreted it as mocking her by acting clueless.

"Because... because..." After a little bit more whimpering, the lid finally snapped off, and, ignoring the need to keep quiet, she suddenly began to yell. "Because that's the story with every, single, one of your damn race! You... all of you... all you care for is inventing new ways to keep Faunus like myself suffering. Crushed. Weak. Ignored. When I was born, your kin treated me as nothing more than newly created property... just another set of hands to hold a pickaxe and haul carts. Did anyone back in Mantle care what I wanted, what I thought, did they even think that... that I'm even a person? No, of course not! Then Vale comes along, and..."

"Calm down," Firre ordered her to pause. Silva still had a lot to let out, but the prince's words reminded her that she'd best not wake the entire town in the distance, so, she took a breath and clenched her fists to steady herself. To an extent, Firre was already aware that this is how she felt - she did not hide her contempt for humanity in any of the times they met before, at least without her mask. However, it did not explain everything. "I understand that. Remnant isn't kind to Faunus like you, and so much of humanity are... despicable when it comes to that. I agree, they would never care to know your story. Do you think I'm one of them?"

Silva was itching to answer with a blunt "yes", but could not muster the courage. Still standing defensively with her pungi pointed, she merely glanced down to the ground, gloomy. Hearing no answer, Firre continued:

"I wasn't certain back then, but now that I have found you here, I can tell that you must have been that masked woman who saved me from Argo yesterday. That means you were there when I and the other rangers freed the slaves that Velinn held, broke their chains, and then executed him for such inhuman cruelty. Do you believe I did all of that for selfish reasons? That I hold all of those people that I have given a chance at freedom in contempt, that I don't care what they feel?"

Again, Silva could not answer. Thoughts were racing in her mind. It was still frustrated, but for different reasons - inability to square reality with preconception. Firre made a careful step forward, hand reached out, as if pleading to her, and continued:

"And before you try to tell me that I must have had some... secret selfish purpose for doing this, don't bother. Just... think about it - objectively, killing a powerful, wealthy businessman would cause a massive uproar once the news reaches Vale. It risks my standing, my father's standing, and possibly even my life. I don't care about any of that. It's justice that I seek, not petty gain. But... you still think I wouldn't want to hear you out?"

For a few seconds, Silva remained in her position, her hands shaking while she held up her instrument - ultimately, however, she gave up. With a sigh, she dropped her stance, then sat back down and mumbled:

"...fine, what do you want to know?"

On cue, Firre sat down in front of her. Silva was clearly still hesitant, but, at least it seemed she would answer him for a while. "I wanted to ask you this when we first met, but you never gave me the chance. You're clearly not from Vale, so, where are you from and how did you get here?"

"I was... born in Mantle," the Faunus girl muttered after a few seconds of pause. "In its territory, at least... I never considered myself to be Mantlean. There're humans, on the other side of the walls... and there's Faunus like us, who are born in slavery and spend their entire lives as their workers. My parents worked in Dust mines - they could only afford one or two hours per day to care for me, and before I know it, I was given a pick myself and sent to the tunnels, too..."

"And then you escaped?"

"Not... on my own accord. Every other month, we'd have someone trying to get out, but that was far easier said than done. Most of us simply waited and hoped for an opportunity, some of us sabotaged work a little, whenever they could, even if that was a risk as well... What happened, though, was that one day, I assume whoever owned us - I never saw their face or learned their name - decided they needed more slaves somewhere in the Frontier. I and a dozen others were loaded on a ship to Fort Typhon, but near Vytal, we were rammed by another vessel. That vessel's captain, Miss Glaesa, took down our overseers and guards, and loaded us all to bring us to Vale."

The surname mentioned immediately caught Firre's attention. "Miss Glaesa? You mean..."

"Jurata Glaesa, yes..."

The mistress of the Amber House, the most famous media mogul in all of Vale, a hunter of slave ships on the seas? It sounded unbelievable - and sure, he too was a person of high social standing in Valean society who spent many evenings doing violent vigilantism, but... Jurata was the last person he could have guessed would get involved in such things. And didn't he suspect her of something before he left for Sumire? Firre shook away those thoughts and continued:

"So, you fled from Mantle and landed in Vale. I'm going to assume that means you're not working for Mantleans, right?"

"What? Why would you even think that?"

"Well..." It was time to put his theory to the test, then. "Back on the train from Vale to Mountain Glenn, when we met for the second time... you were there to kill me, weren't you?"

That statement instantly got Silva to tense up. "You..." Words got stuck in her throat. Her eyes focused on his hands, observing whether they were moving any closer to drawing his weapon. Firre didn't twitch. How was she supposed to interpret that - dropping such a bombshell, and yet not... trying to kill her back? Pushing her thoughts away, she finally managed to mutter out a response:

"...yes. That wasn't my initial purpose. Once I saw you, though... I decided that it'd be best accomplished by killing you."

"What was your purpose, then?"

"We... we're a group of Faunus who are trying to free everyone else of our kind. Miss Glaesa is leading us, and the only hope we have is... if all the human kingdoms end up at war with each other. If that happens, they will expend all of their strength fighting each other, and so they won't be able to keep Faunus from freeing themselves."

Silva shrunk to herself, her mind now overtaken by fear and horror of having broken her oath to the noble lady who had saved her by revealing their plans to an outsider. Surely, once Jurata learns of this, she will deem her a traitor and disown her. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... Firre, on the other hand, was in shock. A Faunus terrorist organization that was trying to cause war between the four kingdoms... it would explain why Silva did what she did, but it was baffling to imagine that such movements existed behind the veil of ordinary society. And to think that Jurata was leading this organization, too... Was she even a Faunus? I've... I've never heard that.

"So, releasing Grimm on the train, trying to have me killed, and then framing Mantle for the attack - that was your plan to help cause a war?"

"Y-yes... And... and that's also why I was here, to... Not for you, but..."

"And when the war happens, you intend to use the exhaustion of a prolonged conflict to cause a Faunus rights revolution," Firre finished his summary, then proceeded with a question that suddenly popped to his mind. "Have you given thought what would happen if you help start a war, but then Mantle simply... wins it?"

"Uh... huh?" In the midst of Silva's internal heartache and frail, passive, surrendered speech, this question genuinely caught her off-guard. "What do you mean?" Pointing at the Faunus girl, Firre continued:

"If you help spark a war, but then Mantle and Mistral simply destroy Vale and then perhaps Vacuo, and dominate all of Remnant... then Faunus everywhere will be put in chains. If that happens, they may never become free. Have you ever considered that?"

Silva's concerned eyes stared straight at him, then glanced away in shame. "No... Miss Glaesa never mentioned that concern. She must have... thought of it already, and simply never mentioned it."

"I don't know if she has, but," Firre suddenly rose to his feet and clenched his fist in determination. "I'm certain that our victory is the only way to Faunus freedom. Vale isn't perfect, I'm sure you know that by yourself, but... I'm going to do whatever I can to make sure that if we win, we will free all of the world's slaves. Give everyone on Remnant a chance at a peaceful, fulfilling life. Trust me, all those conspiracies of yours... they won't even need to continue."

Silva watched his proclamation with an incredulous stare. Something about his speech, as crazy as it was, sounded genuine - which, if anything, only made it worse for her. Yet again, she simply couldn't understand why he's acting like this - so, she jumped to her feet as well and confronted him:

"Why... why are you so naive?!"

"Huh?"

"I... you... didn't I just tell you that I was trying to kill you?! And... and... instead of killing me back, or, or, or putting me in prison, you're here lecturing me about how you're going to free all my brothers and sisters? Why?!"

"Well, then you saved me, didn't you?" Hearing that bounced at her got Silva to frown and glance to the side in defeat. Firre, meanwhile, continued with a defeated sigh. "Besides... my life isn't that important, regardless."

"Huh? But aren't you..."

"I know what I am."

The forest clearing went silent for a few seconds. After staring straight into the prince's eyes, with a glare that seemed as if she was trying to set him on fire with her thoughts, Silva finally scoffed and giggled.

"You really are different from the rest of humanity - you're nuts."

For once in this entire conversation, Silva lowered her guard just a little - and, frankly, it was heartwarming for Firre to watch. Hell, it's even contagious. He flashed the faintest smile himself, too.

Unfortunately, any celebration, or "celebration", wasn't going to last long. Firre suddenly tensed up. Lights? Something from above was shining down on the forest, spotlights moving through the thick greenery and rapidly approaching Altar.

"Wait a minute," he interrupted Silva, getting her to drop the amused mood as well. "Is that..."