Chapter 73 - Remnant - Errata
Year 71VE, November
Cover Art by Mi Chumi
Vacuo
Forty-six year-old Rashem Annar was paving his way toward immortality.
He'd felt this way once before, a little over a year ago, before that demonspawn, Arthur Watts, had destroyed all his dreams and nearly taken the lives of at least two members of his extended family.
And then had come the strangers, who claimed to be working to thwart this man and his masters, and who had first insinuated they would aid him, then offered assistance, and then shockingly had completely delivered on those promises. While the machines themselves had been markedly more expensive than the first set he'd purchased, the cost of extracting them from Atlas had been more than halved due the apparent connections that the they had with a Vacuan transport company.
The new machines had not initially been as modern as the originals, but the combination of Harvesh's ingenuity and the advice of these so-called Lone Huntsmen along with suddenly available upgrade parts… well they'd eventually ended up with something that was even better than their first attempt.
As a result, Rashem found himself shockingly not regretting his decision to further indebt himself in order to recover and then surpass the progress that had been made a year ago.
It had taken three months to quietly procure those replacement machines: Foundry, Dust Slicer, Etcher, and Ion Doping. And during that same timespan, they'd found themselves contacted by a discrete Advocate in Vacuo who, again apparently at the behest of these Lone Huntsmen, assisted him in setting up a holding company, which held a controlling interest in a new and extremely boring shell company, which had then bought the remains of his original manufacturing site for salvage cost and had set it up as a storage warehouse instead.
He'd literally sold his company's assets to himself, with extra steps to hide that fact.
And so Rashem again stood on the second floor balcony, looking through the thick glass across the clean manufacturing floor at Harvesh and his small team, one of them missing his arm just above the elbow, as they monitored another batch of second-generation wafer crystals being grown in the supercooled inert-gas chamber. Next to it, the replacement Dust Slicer stood ready to receive the crystal before a third machine would etch the wafer into a three-dimensional matrix circuit, ready for the Ionic Dust Doping Oven and final Interconnections.
Rashem's gaze drifted to the right where the other major changes to the original facility could be seen. A year ago, the clean room had transitioned into a storage area bounded by four loading bays. Now, three of those bays and some storage space had been completely walled off, segregated from the rest of the warehouse completely. Those three bays' back wall looked like it continued on through the entire length of the facility, complete with empty stacked crates, but this was an illusion and it was literally impossible to access this side of the building from those three loading bays and the nominal entrance of that part of the facility, where Sandstorm Trans-shipping Services operated completely legitimately to store and reroute goods travelling between Vacuo and the other Kingdoms.
Ah but that fourth loading bay was still connected to the fabrication warehouse area, and it was being used, albeit rarely and cautiously.
Which left Rashem and Harvesh's staff and their means of accessing the manufacturing floor. That was being handled by a new entrance through a fake storefront next door, that supposedly operated as an electronics resale shop. It was through this that the workers filtered at staggered hours throughout the day. All of the men here had been Harvesh's personal friends or extended family members. All of them were trusted implicitly. And all of them had been told the name of the man who had nearly taken their lives and dreams.
Arthur Watts would hear nothing of what occurred in this facility.
Rashem smiled, and there was nothing pleasant in it.
Someday, you will scream in rage, Arthur Watts, and it will be because of me.
He caught movement below and saw Harvesh gesturing at him to meet in the offices. Making his way downstairs, he met him just outside what passed for his private office, to find Harvesh waving his scroll in front of him. They waited until they were both inside the room, and the door firmly closed and locked, before he sought to sate his curiosity.
"What is it?"
His nephew did not seem agitated. In fact, he seemed amused. "I have been monitoring the forums for CCT Communications technology, uncle. And someone just forwarded this for discussion!"
. . .
MEMO: REMINDER OF TERMS OF SERVICE
FOR DISTRUBUTION TO ALL PARTNERS AND VENDORS
It has come to the attention of ATT that not all wholesale partners and corporate end-users are fully compliant with our policies and procedures regarding the verified destruction or recycling of all proprietary components and licensed equipment. Please consider this a friendly reminder that not only is it mandatory to use only approved service vendors for recycling or destruction (see attached list), but failure to do so will result in termination of Partner status and permanent blacklisting.
Your cooperation and prompt attention are appreciated.
Phillip Browne
Vice President, Compliance
Atlas TechnoTronics
Argus: The Dread Basement of the Emporium
A third of the way across Remnant, two individuals were reading another forwarded copy of that same memo.
"Looks like some of our earlier shenanigans have been found by the auditors," Sophia said, showing her scroll to Pete.
He read through the text carefully. "Hmm… should we be assuming that we're the only ones playing fast and loose with black market Atlas tech?" Pete laughed, "I'd press X to doubt. Based on how easy it was with the right lien, I'd bet it had already gone all systemic. Once one person does it, word spreads until it can't be ignored."
"True," Sophia tapped her check. "But that does mean that our work in Vacuo was timely. I doubt we'll be able to lift any more used boards from the relays, that's for certain."
Sophia's scroll rang, and the ID matched with Rashem's secure scroll. "Speak of the devils!"
When the image resolved, Rashem and his nephew were sitting at a small conference table. Harvesh had a self-satisfied grin on his face. "Hey GNU, you saw the notice out of Atlas?"
"Harvesh! Yeah, we were just discussing it. Looks like we got set up just in time." She appraised him. "How's Gen 2 coming along?" It had been six months since they'd gotten the revised assembly line up and running, and Harvesh and Sophia had been collaborating regularly on upgraded designs. Boards that were drop-in compatible with the industry-standard CCT boards.
"I believe we will have a set of prototypes ready to ship to your contact for testing within the week," Rashem affirmed.
"That's fantastic. I'll ensure the next block payment is sent. How about we make this one for transshipping… uh… e-waste?"
"This sounds acceptable," Rashem smiled. "It is a pleasure doing business with you, as always, GNU."
Finishing the call, Sophia called Dr. Polendina next.
Atlas
After communicating the latest update, Sophia could tell that Dr. Polendina was growing nervous. But also excited. At least one implementation of those Gen 2 chips would tackle some critical Atlas communications systems under the watchful eye of Dr. Polendina's mysterious associate in Atlas. Sophia didn't know that man's name or title, and didn't want to. What she didn't know, she couldn't let slip.
"This is excellent news, young lady, but you youngsters understand that if one of these boards leaks out into the public before we are ready, it will not only tip Arthur off, but it will be the end of my access and funding sources."
"We hear you, Dr. P. We are being very cautious here. We aren't even going to install any of the new boards in the CCT systems, we're just stockpiling them nearby. And I promise, our contacts that are manufacturing these have zero interest in helping Watts."
"Very well." He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face with it. "Have you found a solution for the mass communications problem?"
Sophia frowned. "Not really anything broadly applicable, Doc. We can't exactly replace every freaking scroll out there, and we can't mass produce our secure tech anyway. Hell, even trying that would render it useless because Watts would see it happening. We'll just have to rely on our ability to get ahead of him on firmware patching when the time comes. I'm keeping an eye on his fiddling, and will try to have countermeasures ready to launch."
"Keeping in mind that this is third in line of our concerns, after the CCT and Atlesian communications."
"Right-O, Dr. P."
He shook his head, eyeglasses reflecting the light oddly as he did. "I wish I could at least bring Captain Ironwood in on this. Technically speaking, he and I report to the same branch of the Atlesian military establishment, despite the fact that I'm a civilian. I'd love to have his assistance, young lady."
"Bit early yet. Doc."
"So you say."
Sophia considered the man before him. He looked like he'd aged more than the year and a bit that she'd known him. His face was slightly lined, and his eyes looked tired. "Doc are you doing okay? You look… a little worn down. You know we're all on the case, you don't have to break yourself with this stuff."
"Ah, well my dear, while I do appreciate your hard work, foiling Arthur is not the only work I have on my plate. It's not even the most pressing!" He considered his words carefully. "I've been working on some novel new research. Nothing I can discuss with you I'm afraid, and… it requires more than the usual sacrifices of time and money.
Huh. "Alright Doc. But make sure you don't work yourself in to an early grave. We're gonna need your expertise later, and I don't even know who your Atlas associate is to contact them if you get hit by a bus."
"No fear, young lady. No fear."
. . .
Later that afternoon, deep in the bowels of an Atlesian laboratory, Dr. Pietro Polendina lay enclosed in a complex device.
He was nervous. Who wouldn't be!
But he was also excited.
And a little claustrophobic. The Aura Field Inducer was, by necessity, cramped. Even with his best efforts, the fields generated by the thousands of individual elements could only extend a few inches from their physical form, and thus they all had to be placed rather closely to the surface of his skin. It was… much like a cocoon of short metal, ceramic, and plastic filaments.
And it had to be his skin. He would not risk anyone else's life to his experimental designs. Oh, his research partner and closest friend would have taken his place in a heartbeat. Had volunteered and tried to insist, in fact. But Dr. Jade Buyanto was, at this moment, even more critical to the safety of Atlas than Pietro himself was.
Because Dr. Buyanto was Atlas' second-greatest genius ever in the fields of electronics and communications.
And both of them knew who held the highest rank in that field, and now who he served, and that thought terrified them both.
No. If either of them had to be risked now, it would be Dr. Polendina. They needed Dr. Buyanto working behind the scenes with those youngsters in Argus, and gods-knew who else had been roped in by their little cabal. He wasn't the least bit curious about that, either. All of them knew who they faced, and had been careful to compartmentalize. His so-called Lone Huntsmen didn't know Dr. Buyanto's involvement, and Jade knew only that Dr. Polendina had friends, somewhere outside Atlas, who were doing discrete work as well, as they fed data and analysis back and forth by courier.
And of course, there were others in Vacuo, whose name he likewise didn't know.
He shook his head metaphorically, since he couldn't move it physically. It was all very 'secret agent'. He preferred this type of hands-on research, to be honest.
"Are you ready, Pietro?" Jade said quietly, his dark eyes betraying his concern.
"As I will ever be, my friend." Polendina said, working to keep his voice even. "Initiate."
Pulling up a holographic control panel on the podium next to him with his right hand, while his left hovered over a physical disconnect switch, Dr. Buyanto entered a sequence of commands, and then gently slid a control upward, watching the readouts carefully and eyes flicking to Dr. Polendina sporadically.
Dr. Polendina felt it when the AFI activated. At first it was a gentle tingle across his skin. Then slowly it warmed like the sun on a cloudless day. Not yet painful, but… uncomfortable. He would have to remember to—
And then a slight tugging sensation emerged, as if his skin were being pulled outward.
All of his skin at once.
He grimaced against the sensation. He couldn't look down with his head so restrained, and he couldn't lift his limbs either. But he could see in his peripheral vision that the skin of his cheeks was most definitely not being pulled outward.
But something was.
Something more innate to his being than mere physical matter.
"It's working!" Jade exclaimed. "External Aura expression at 1% above nominal!" He breathed deeply, checking vitals and then back to the aural display. "Two percent!"
The feeling of being… separated, of nearly having a portion of himself torn loose, grew, and Polendina grit his teeth against it.
Discomfort shifted to slight pain.
"Three percent!" Dr. Buyanto frowned as a soft alarm sounded. "Heart rate elevating. Describe the sensations." Buyanto was, first and foremost, a scientist.
"Like… being… drawn out," the older man gasped. "Not… pleasant."
"Noted. Noting possible application of a sedative or analgesic."
"Yes… I…" Polendina groaned, "Gods…" and then he gave a cry as he felt a portion of his Aura literally torn from him.
"Pietro!" Jade yelled, and he immediately reduced the field strength.
"No! Not- Blast it, Jade! We were so close!" Pietro gasped, panting as the field slowly died around him to the point where the tugging sensations disappeared, leaving only a generalized rawness.
"Close to tearing you in half, my friend." Jade scolded. "Your vitals jumped well out of safe parameters just then."
"Close to a breakthrough in Aura manipulation!" Pietro corrected. "Vitals or not!" He sighed as the feelings of discomfort faded. "Get me out of the field generator, I want to review the data and see where we went wrong."
Dr. Buyanto moved to do so, and then paused, eyes widening. "Pietro… we didn't! It worked...," he breathed. He hit the release controls, causing the elements to withdraw and loosen the restraints that held Dr. Polendina in place. The older man staggered out, legs feeling like jelly.
"Eh? What do you—" He followed Dr. Buyanto's shaking finger to a separate portion of the device to his right. A complex containment chamber with overlapping fields, still powered up.
And in the center of it, a tiny, marble-sized ball of… something. Something that glowed and pulsed with its own energy. Something that he felt drawn to.
A tiny fragment of his very soul, drawn from him and kept separate. So small he didn't even feel its absence.
He felt both horrified and elated.
"Gods… it worked," he tried to take a step forward, and found his legs unsteady. His friend hurried over to help him. "Help me to a chair, we have to go over the data! Determine how to make the process less stressful next time."
"Yes… next time," his companion said doubtfully.
But Doctor Pietro Polendina had zero doubt. After years of research, he'd finally managed that first critical step, a tiny one but also spanning a mind-boggling deep chasm between the theoretical and the practical.
He had taken Aura, quantized it, drawn it from its source, and contained it. It wasn't enough, however. Not nearly enough, if his calculations were correct. The amount of Aura contained within that field represented approximately 20% of what he needed to test his theory fully, to take Project P.E.N.N.Y. from a madman's dream to a reality that would, finally, release Atlas from its most catastrophic risk, and that would save generations of future young women from a life of protective isolation.
Two hours later, as they closed the lab for the night, the room darkened, lit only by a few indicator lights and a single, tiny ball of Aura, casting its faint rays about the room.
And there on the far side of that room, stood a plastic and metal prototype. It was little more than a caricature of a creature at the moment, all structural elements, circuits, wires, and tubes.
But it already had a name, the plaque beside it proclaimed:
Personality Emulation Network, Neo-Yeomanette (P.E.N.N.Y.)
And it had an open space, there in the center of its chest cavity, that waited for something. For one critical element.
As the dim light of the Aura reflected off its exposed visual sensors, one could only imagine what dreams might someday haunt its artificial neurons.
Southern Mistral
By the time the leaves had begun to turn, The Tribe had signed on five more towns. Two had come hot on the heels of their success in Kuroyuri. Two others after Raven's band of miscreants had intervened once more, this time without needing the rest of Team STRQ to back them up.
They'd also had to track down three groups of former Branwen Tribe members who'd been arrogant enough or stupid enough to think they could poach in Branwen territory. The first two had been terminated with extreme prejudice. The third group had banded together for protection with three Aura Users, and had required Omen's tender mercies. That had brought a fifth town onto contract.
There had been no further problems from former Branwen Tribe members after that. They were either dead, or had fled to other parts of Remnant, or found other lines of work.
And Branwen Tribe was slowly finding a new and strange balance. It took a range of personalities to keep a bandit tribe running, a mix of the borderline violent and chaotic who chafed at civilized rules and the moderately lawful who could be trusted not to stab you in the back. Once the Tribe had self-purged those with the least self-control and tolerance for civilization, what they had left was… not civilian by any stretch of the imagination, but not bandits either.
Over the prior months, the Tribe had found itself staking out and setting up a series of encampments within sight of some of the larger settlements. The largest and most permanent within throwing distance of the walls of Kuroyuri. And then… gradually… members started to integrate into the local population. They weren't becoming townies. Oh no. But they were townie-adjacent. They could visit and avail themselves of periodic creature comforts, buy and sell. And in some cases, the locals took a fancy to a member with their rough and rowdy personality, and The Tribe gained a new resident in the camp. In other situations, an older or more stability-craving member would ease their way into the local town, and Raven would gain another set of loyal eyes and ears inside its walls.
It was a win-win, and to her shock, Raven found that Branwen Tribe was thriving like never before.
Who'd have fucking thunk.
Oh, the town militia still tensed when she strolled through the gods-be-damned gates and down their precious streets like she owned the damn place.
As they should. She was Raven Branwen, and if she wanted to, she could burn their little popcorn-pretty corner of the world to the ground.
But, she mused, I don't want to. Not one bit. What I want is a drink now and then. And a good meal. And the occasional visit from Team STRQ, even my dumb-ass brother.
Around her, Kuroyuri was still rebuilding. Mayor Lin had been re-elected in large part because of his 'remarkable foresight' in signing a protective contract with Branwen Tribe.
The thought brought a snort and a smirk to her lips as she slid through the doors of the Huaigou Tavern, with its sign showing a dog peeing on someone's shoe.
Heh. My kind of place. Yeah.
A while later, as she finished her first beer, she lazily pulled out her scroll and dialed a contact. She and they had chatted once before, several months prior. At that time, the other woman had seemed to be just feeling things out.
This time, Raven intended to make her an offer.
When the young woman's face swam into view, bright pink hair and pink-tinted shades standing out, Raven frowned slightly.
Gods that woman changes her hair color every other month.
"Miss Branwen…" Dania or Deedee or whatever the fuck she wanted to call herself said, "what can I do for you?"
"Funny you should ask, Dania. I find myself in a spot here, and wondered if you might be tempted to give me a hand. Mutually Beneficial of course."
"A… spot." The young woman leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing.
"Yeah. See… I got some obligations. I'm trying to run a business here, not to mention leading the Tribe itself. And on top of that, I've got my friend's rugrats demanding I train them. There's only so much Raven to go around, you get me?"
"Yeahh…"
"And now my Lieutenant has seen fit to saddle me with two more curtain climbers. Says they did alright during the whole Nuckelavee affair." Raven rolled her eyes. "He suggested having Vernal train them, but she's only fourteen. Doesn't have the patience for it, less there's someone there to knock sense into her every few hours."
"And you want me to do the knocking?"
"You're catching on fast."
"Well, I—"
Raven interrupted, pushing the matter. "Look sweet-cheeks, I'll pay you 50% more than what Malachite is, and you can live in town if you want. And no smuggling and enforcer bullshit. You'll be 100% legit and training my Aura users, along with the two waifs and anyone else who wants to learn Huntress-style combat."
Deedee flinched at the word Huntress. It was a reminder. A reminder that Raven Branwen knew exactly who and what she was.
"And if I say no?" She asked quietly, expecting threats or worse.
Raven shrugged. "Then I'll have wasted your time and mine, and I'll have to find someone else." She caught Deedee's expression. "What, you think I give a shit about your little problems? I've got 99 of my own, and you ain't one of them, and I'd like to keep it that way."
The former Huntress's face went very still. She'd apparently gotten good at that, working for Malachite for the last half-year or so. "What about Miss Malachite?"
Raven snorted. "That's a yes, then. You let me worry about Malachite."
. . .
A week later, Deedee found herself standing in a clearing just outside Branwen Tribe's Kuroyuri Camp.
Things had gone surprisingly smoothly for her. Word had been sent to Malachite in some manner, who had then summoned Deedee and informed her that while she should have been pissed off at losing a very capable resource, she'd been suitably compensated and knew better than to get on Raven Branwen's bad side. And then Deedee had been sent off with a dismissive wave, packed up her meager possessions, and found a bullhead waiting for her and a hostel room reserved in Kuroyuri upon her arrival.
But life wasn't all roses.
. . .
I should have stayed in freaking Mistral City. At least Miss Malachite didn't swear constantly.
"Listen here, bitchface," the short-haired teenager sneered at her. "These are my students, not yours. You're just an advisor." Vernal spat on the ground for emphasis.
Deedee sighed. "Oh really? And you've got how much formal training? Seems to me, your main qualifications are having a bad attitude and a highly suspect desire to get the crap beat out of yourself."
"Oi. Fuck you!"
"Not even on your birthday, little girl, and I don't swing that way."
Vernal dissolved into mutters.
"Uhh… aren't we supposed to be… training or something?" the orange-haired girl, Nora she'd said her name was, asked. "I mean… if we aren't, we gotta get back and help Mrs. An take care of the house and all."
Vernal glared first at Nora, then at Deedee. "Ugh. Fine. Fu….shi….crap." She glanced between Deedee and the two pre-teens. "Alright fine. We're gonna work on defense today. Got it? Got your weapons?"
Nora hefted a rather impressive blacksmith's hammer, spinning it on the axis of the shaft. "Got mine here!"
"As do I," Lie Ren said evenly, displaying his father's hunting knife.
"Alright, we'll focus on… uh… close quarters combat, since neither of you dumba—idi—students have ranged options." Vernal spat again.
"I could throw Maggy here, if I had to… but…" Nora grinned ferally, "can't break legs that way. Yeahhhh…" She cackled softly.
Vernal stared at the nine year old, and leaned toward the woman she knew as Dania. "You know, that little shit actually terrifies me a little. Is she all there, you think?"
"You got me, kid."
Menagerie
When the group call initiated, Menagerie Chieftain Perine Ursulus found himself struggling to compose his expression. It was nearly November, and they still had not received any hints of backlash from the other Kingdoms. And here they were, foundations poured, first floors erected with permanent-looking-but-temporary roofs. The sidewalks were going in next week and the cable-car had already taken over for the bulk of light materials and personnel transport from the city proper to the campus. The initial wooden palisades now protected actual reinforced concrete walls in various stages of completion.
And soaring above it all was the newly-minted shining jewel of Kuo Kuana.
It was enough to make an old man cry.
But not this old man!
The screen resolved into two panes, the left showing Ghira Belladonna and the right Leonardo Lionheart.
"Ursulus! You have an update for us?" Lionheart opened. "Ghira," he nodded.
The old man grinned. "That I do." He turned and shifted the scroll so that he was barely in frame and instead giving pride of place to the object he really wanted them to see, soaring skyward behind him.
Chimera Tower.
The central spar of it, nearly twenty feet in diameter at the base, rose almost a hundred feet into the air in a gentle taper. Its base was flanked by four graceful supporting columns that started vertical and then swept slightly outward as they rose, almost like the petals of a blooming flower. Thin but surprisingly strong walls connected each of those columns the central spar, almost like fins.
As the edifice rose, multiple protrusions ringed it at various heights. And those were not mere decoration but served as part of the antenna array for the entire thing. And the crown of it was a series of feathery circles of tinted metallic array.
The entire structure had incorporated crushed coral as part of the building material, carefully treated to retain much of its soft natural color, but they'd also added a secondary treatment.
Leo gave a low whistle even as Ghira muttered, "Beautiful," under his breath.
"Oh, you boys don't know the half of it," Ursulus bragged. "Did you happen to notice how clean the video is?"
"It's operational?"
"My technicians installed the relay boards that Sophia sent us this morning. What you are seeing, gentlemen, is a fully operational CCT relay." His voice lowered. "Just a relay at the moment, but enough to rival Argus Tower!"
Ghira Belladonna seemed nearly speechless, while Lionheart was just smiling and shaking his head.
"But that's not all. Watch this," Ursulus said as he began to walk parallel to the tower in a broad circumference. The result of his slow promenade was that the colors of the bulk of the tower shifted before their eyes. Coral hues transitioning from oranges to reds to violets to blues to greens to yellows to oranges and back to reds as he walked.
"Gods… she's a thing of beauty," Leo breathed.
Ursulus took a moment to bask in it. "Damn right she is."
"And operational." Ghira said quietly. "This is going to revolutionize Menagerie."
"The Relay is already doing that," Ursulus glanced around before continuing. "We're waiting on those special boards for the other functionality. But Chimera will live up to its name. When the time comes, she'll come online for us."
"Chimera. Not one single creature, but many in one form," Lionheart said quietly, "Garek named it well."
They took a few more minutes to appreciate the sight, and then Ursulus began walking the campus, showing them the rest of the facility's status.
"So, you think you'll still be ready to open by January?" Ghira asked.
Ursulus gave a dry laugh. "Oh, we could take students next month. If we had instructors. But Leo insisted we needed to time everything carefully."
"Yes well, I've been rethinking that," Lionheart said. "I think we should… continue to push our luck on flying under the radar."
Ghira tilted his head. "What did you have in mind, Leo?"
"What if Menagerie didn't advertise it as a combat school, but… instead as something with a little deniability. See how many more months that buys us?" There was a thoughtful silence. "What if we advertised Cove as just a training facility for Aura users, to supplement Menagerie's anti-Grimm militia."
"Isn't that the same—ah," Ghira grunted. "I see what you're doing. That is, but then again it isn't, the same thing as a Combat School. Just as the other Kingdoms insist Menagerie is not Kingdom, even though it clearly is. Deniability can work both ways."
Ursulus frowned. The thought left a bad taste in his mouth. He wanted to rub this in the faces of those bastards in Atlas and Mistral. He didn't want to hide it any longer.
But hells, it made sense. The longer they could keep this little charade going, the more stable they'd be when the Nevermore hit the turbofan.
"Damn you both. It is the right approach. Alright."
"Of course," Lionheart said to stake some of the sting out, "that means you can start recruiting students and instructors sooner, Urs." He leaned back in his comfortable chair. "So it's not all bad."
Chieftain Ursulus felt a slow smile spread across his face. "No, I suppose it ain't." He slapped the leg of his trousers, causing some construction dust to fly off. "Fine then. I'll get my PR team working on the advertisements now. Any thoughts on initial staff?"
"It's too early for me to take over, and that would tip our hand. I can't get involved until we are ready to open the Academy. That's still two years out at least."
"I talked to Kali," Ghira said. "She's willing to teach some of the basics. She's got the patience for it." He smiled. "Leo, have you talked to Garek yet?"
Lionheart shook his head. "He won't relocate until Cinder starts Academy, and that's a few years out."
"What about that Huntress we met at the reception?" Ghira offered. "Mrs. Rose?"
"Too soon for her, too. Trust me. That will open up a nest of Centinels we aren't ready for." He addressed Ursulus. "Chief, I'd suggest that you draw from the retired Huntsmen already in Menagerie for this coming year. They, along with Kali, should be more than enough for your first crop of students."
Chief Ursulus nodded. "Fair enough. Start small, build up cautiously and see where the sea winds take us."
Vale City
The cool winds of Autumn rustled through the leaves of Vale. For Headmaster Ozpin, it was a time of anticipation and nostalgia. He'd spent the last several months reviewing applications for November's crop of first year students, deciding the fates of yet another crop of future Huntsmen and Huntresses. And it was never easy. Too many applicants, even too many qualified applicants. Oh there were always a few dozen that were obvious denials, ones that he could reject with a clear conscience and for their own good. But even after that, there had been over two hundred qualified applicants, and the combined four Academies could only process half that number per year.
The rest would have to seek training elsewhere. A tiny minority, the wealthier ones, would choose private training. Others would seek out a licensed Huntsman or Huntress and would beg an apprenticeship.
And of those hundred, half would be dead or permanently disabled within the year. Field apprenticeships were ridiculously hazardous, and those who were rejected by all four Academies were already at a skill or power disadvantage.
It was the weight of this. Of the responsibility, the decision, and the knowledge that had driven Ozpin out of his personal fiefdom and into he public areas of Vale so that he could, hopefully, escape for a few hours from the crushing mass of it.
But of course, one side-effect of being an immortal in an unending war for the survival of Remnant was that such moments tended to merely replace one care with another. Sitting outside a small, sparsely frequented and overpriced café on a Valean side-street, the changing of the seasons reminded him of the other thing that had been weighing on his mind.
Autumn leaves, drifting to the sidewalks.
Fall.
"Qrow, I grow concerned regarding Amber Quick's roaming," he said after some minutes contemplating his cocoa." He looked up to find his companion, who had quietly spiked his own drink with alcohol a half hour ago, sighing.
"Oz—"
"I understand, Qrow. But I would be significantly less distressed for her safety, if we could convince her to remain closer to Beacon at the least. Perhaps Vale?"
"I've tried, Oz. She's as stubborn as my sister." The lanky Huntsman reconsidered, "Okay maybe not that stubborn. And a damn sight more polite. But she just digs in her heels every time I bring it up. She hates city life. Says it smothers her."
"Nevertheless," Ozpin considered his mug, "these repeated stories of a humanoid Grimm make me wary," he waved his free hand at Qrow's protestations, "Yes, Qrow, I am aware that you have been unable to substantiate any of the rumors. But it is troubling, is it not, that two places, so separated, would claim the same thing? And that in the second instance, an entire team of Huntsmen was lost?"
Qrow lifted his spiked coffee to his mouth, and took a sip before setting it back down. His brows drew down. "Nobody could corroborate that story, and the fourth member died in a Bullhead crash, Oz. Local authorities called it a navigation malfunction." He scratched his cheek and lowered his voice. "And really, that's not Salem's style, is it?"
Ozpin seemed lost in thought for some moments. "The issue, Qrow, is that Salem has been known to adapt in surprising ways. Her style, as you term it, has included nearly anything you could possibly imagine over the millennia." He shook his head and looked at his most trusted agent over his glasses. "And I cannot allow myself to believe in coincidences, Qrow. I have been ill served too many times by assuming them and being unpleasantly surprised." Ozpin sighed and leaned forward. "James tells me he taken steps to secure the Winter Maiden," he noted the sour expression this brought to the Huntsman's face, "No, I do not propose we go to those lengths, but… it is time for us to be more insistent. For her own protection."
"I'll try," Qrow sighed, and took a healthy slug of his drink.
Patch
"Again!" Taiyang Xiao Long yelled, muscles tensing.
Ten-year-old Yang Xiao Long wore padded headgear and boxing gloves. Standing in front of her, legs braced, her blond-haired father held up a large padded square in each hand.
They'd messed around with various techniques and mock-weapons over the past few months, and so far nothing other than fists seemed to suit the young blonde's inclinations.
Weapons didn't seem to impress her, but let her punch something, and she'd break out into a wide grin almost immediately.
THWACK-WHACK! Her small fists slammed into the practice pads with a one-two staccato that belied her small frame and young age. Taiyang glanced over at his wife and other daughter, his smile mirroring his older daughter's.
"Again!"
On the back porch, Summer turned back to their other daughter. "So Ruby, you're sure you don't want to practice with your dad?"
The dark-haired girl shook her head, eyes narrowed. "Nahhh I don't think… hittin' things is… all that fun." She stared at her hands, making experimental fists and then opening them. "Makes my knuckles hurt."
Summer smiled softly and took one of those small hands in hers. "Yes. I can see that, baby." It had been months now, and she still thrilled at the ability to touch her daughters, to hold them and love them. And they were thriving under the attention.
Well, there were limits though.
"M'not a baby, mom. I'm eight years old!"
"You'll always be my baby, Ruby." Summer replied glibly, and squeezed her. "So if you aren't going to spar with your dad, what would you like to do?"
Ruby's silver eyes softened. "Can we play tag? I'd like that."
Summer's brows drew down slightly. "Hmm… that's not exactly a fighting style, Ruby."
Ruby stared at her mom for a few seconds, chewing on her lip in thought. "Well… I guess… if they can't catch me, how can they hit me?"
Summer blinked. "Well, when you put it that way…" she let go of Ruby's hand, crossed her arms, and began counting. "Twenty… nineteen…"
Ruby's face showed her confusion. "Mom?"
Summer smiled slightly, "Eighteen… I'm giving you a head start, baby. Seventeen…"
"Oh… oh!" Ruby broke out into a manic grin. "Heheheh. Catch me if you can!"
. . .
Several hours later, a thoroughly exhausted Summer Rose found herself answering a scroll call from Qrow Branwen.
"Whoah, Sum. You okay? You look like hell!"
Summer giggled tiredly. "Yeah well, it turns out my youngest daughter can literally run circles around me." She groaned softly. "I think she's trying to prove a point."
"Oh," Qrow laughed softly. "Yeah, I coulda told you not to try to run Pipsqueak to ground. She's something else. You gotta lure her to you with cookies if you want to catch her."
Summer laughed again, then felt a tinge of jealousy. It should have been her that knew that, not Qrow. She should have been the one to understand her daughter best. Oh don't be stupid, Summer. You know why. And you know whose fault it was. Dr. Mazarin says it's important to accept that and not to get upset about it. Just work through it. She sighed. "Yeah. Thanks. I'll keep that in mind next time. But really, the running was for fun anyway." She coughed. "I just need to get my stamina back."
Qrow grinned. "Right. Well chasing after that one will do it, that's for damn sure." He sobered, "But I wanted your advice on something, or at least to vent a little."
"Sure thing, Qrow. What's up?"
Over the next few minutes, Qrow filled her in on his conversation with Ozpin about one Amber Quick.
. . .
"Yeah, so here I go again, chasing after a woman who doesn't want to be found, to convince her to haul her ass back to Beacon and sit tight for… shit, months? Years? We tried that, Summer, and she got fed up with it after a year and said she'd rather die out in the wilderness than live in a pretty prison."
Don't I know that feeling, Summer mused.
"Well, I gotta say, Qrow, you're not wrong." She stared off into the distance. "It's… Oz being Oz again. He's always trying to play things safe, play things close to his chest, and he forgets that he's dealing with people." She sighed. "We have lives, and they matter to us." She locked eyes with Qrow's red ones, "And that goes for you too, Qrow. You have the right to build a life for yourself, and not spend the next twenty years dragging your carcass around Remnant at the crook of a finger."
Qrow's startled expression showed that her word had struck home. "Summer, that's not—"
"Isn't it? Where's your home, Qrow, besides Beacon? Where's your girlfriend?"
"Dammit, Summer, this isn't about me."
She sighed. "No, you're right. Sorry." She smiled, "I guess Dr. Mazarin's sessions are rubbing off on me. That and nearly dying makes you look at the world a little different."
Qrow was quiet for a bit. "Sorry Summer, I forget sometimes."
"Nah. It's all good, Qrow. And besides, you do have people now. You've got your team back, right?" His warm smile in return told her how much that meant to him.
"Yeah. Yeah I do." He shook his head in disbelief. "I didn't realize how much I needed you guys. I mean… losing you was hard, but I realize now that I was hurting before that. Me and Rae…" he rubbed a hand through his hair, chuckled. "It's like we needed you to show us how to be family again."
And that felt great. "You know what, we should do something together, Qrow. Do me a favor, hold off on going after Amber. Let me talk to Tai and the girls."
Qrow's eyes widened, and he fought hard not to grin. "Are you… sure?"
"I'm thinking about it, okay? I need… I need to talk to my family first. But… maybe?"
. . .
The next day, Summer called her friend in Argus.
"Summer!" Selene said, smiling gently. "You look well."
"I am. You look…" Summer paused. The truth was, Selene looked… less happy than usual. "Is something wrong?"
Selene sighed, and fiddled with a stylus in her lap. "Everything is fine, to be honest. It is just." She frowned. "I find myself… in doubt regarding my progress toward our goals."
"Huh? I thought you guys were doing great work."
"That is… depending on how one measures it. If you ask whether we are building a power base unaligned with Ozpin and Salem, one that can stand against any one of the established Kingdoms? I believe we have made good progress. If you ask me whether we have made strides in our preparations to neutralize the utility of Arthur Watts to the Queen? I also believe we have made incredible progress. If you ask me whether we have… tempered the Queen's desire to strike a blow against the Kingdoms?" She examined her hands. "I find that also likely."
Summer frowned. That all sounded very positive. "But?"
"But what of the greater goal? Of freeing my mother, and all Remnant, from this curse? All of these things we may accomplish are ephemeral, Summer. They last as long as I draw breath. What will the Queen do after I have passed? If I am unable to address this, am I any better than Ozma? Weighing this generation's value above the next?"
Summer gave a low whistle. "Dang Selene, you are down."
Selene smiled wryly. "I suppose I am."
Summer considered. "Well, then just maybe I can help you with that, a little. I just had a really interesting conversation with Qrow, and I've convinced my family to let me go on a little field trip with him." She frowned, "Though I apparently owe Ruby a month's supply of cookies and I have to let her sleep in our bed for a week."
Selene's expression perked up slightly. "Tell me."
Evernight Castle
Doctor Arthur Watts stood before the throne in a respectful stance, but his body language radiated impatience.
"You wished to see me, Doctor Watts?"
"Your Majesty, it has been…" his mustache twitched, "some months since we reported that we were tracking the movements of the Fall Maiden through northern Vale." He tilted his head down slightly. "I had… assumed that we would be taking action on that intelligence by now? Surely before circumstances change?"
Salem's scarlet eyes examined Watts carefully. He was not being impertinent, and his words had some merit. But a part of her was irritated by his… needling.
"You fear circumstances may change… to our disadvantage? she asked, arching an eyebrow.
Watts considered his words carefully. "I cannot imagine how they could become more suited to our… to your plans, Your Majesty, than they are now.
The Queen considered. She understood his urgency. Watts was merely a tool, and a short-lived one. Another mayfly in a game spanning millennia . And he had his own desires. An agreement had been struck.
He would advance our cause, and I would grant him his revenge against Atlas, Queen Salem thought.
And yet, came second thoughts, is there… urgency? Witness the progress that Selene has made, securing the Spring Maiden and the Relic of Knowledge for us.
True. True. Perhaps we can afford to continue to show patience. To try alternative approaches.
She focused on the man before her, realizing that some seconds had passed. He stood still, awaiting her response.
"I will consider your counsel, Doctor Watts," she said finally. Queen Salem waved her hand dismissively. "You may leave us to pursue your research."
. . .
Doctor Arthur Watts stalked through the halls of Evernight before reaching the Bullhead landing pads, where he found Hazel Rainart performing routine inspections of the aircraft. The large man straightened as he approached and crossed his arms.
"You met with Queen Salem?" Hazel asked, and Watts nodded tersely. The two of them could never be considered friends, but the inactivity of recent months, and their growing unease over it, had made them… accomplices of a sort. "What did she say?"
Watts mustache writhed in something between a grimace and a sneer. "That she would 'consider my counsel'." He frowned. "She seems… diverted." He glanced back toward the corridors of Evernight, and then off into the distance, far to the southeast. "I think this is because of that girl of hers."
"Careful," Hazel cautioned. "You don't want Her hearing you bring that one into our business."
Watts scoffed and regarded Hazel with olive-green eyes full of contempt. "You know as well as I that her sense of urgency has waned. How many times has Queen Salem disappeared for days on end since her daughter decided to play proletarian? How has her attention to what before she would have described as critical work changed since Selene began to interfere? I suspect that our Queen has become… distracted."
Hazel scowled. On the one hand, he was still young. And he wasn't sure he shared Watts' surety that Selene was the root cause of Queen Salem's slowly ebbing sense of urgency. On the other hand, he two had been made promises. In return for his service, he would have his revenge on Ozpin for his sister's death.
And that day seemed further away than ever, at the moment.
"What are you planning to do about it?"
Watts started, and eyed Hazel with slight suspicion. "Nothing, for now. I'm just… thinking." And crossing his arms, he began making his way back to his laboratories in the basements of Evernight.
Perhaps it is time that I begin to more fully implement my… alternate plans, he mulled as he walked. After all, the Queen may be immortal, but I am not. If The Queen will not facilitate my revenge, I shall have to take matters into my own hands.
Carefully, of course.
[A/N]Special thanks to Rookie80, AtomicR4y, Shadowstorm-Vash, Sorin37, and MollyPollyRolly for your recent reviews!
Rookie80: Ah you noticed that, did you? Well I won't give away all my secrets, but you make a very good case and yes, SOME of those you named will likely end up at Breakwater Academy instead of Beacon. And yes, poor Weiss is currently the loneliest of all, but I've actually got about seven chapters drafted that directly impacts her fate, so fear not!
AtomicR4y: What about Elevensies? Afternoon snog?
Shadowstorm I'm still considering a fall festival costume ball. Maybe I'll make it an Omake. lol
Sorin37: I hope Cinder meeting Salem was all you had hoped for.
MollyPollyRolly: Hope you are continuing to enjoy and thank you so much for joining our madcap adventures!
And so we catch up with practically everyone in this chapter! Rashem and Harvesh are back up and running, the Atlas Elites are beginning to get wise to the disappearing tech, but probably too late, we get a first glimpse of Dr. Polendina's earliest work on Project PENNY (I made up an acronym for that, I hope you buy it. It wasn't freaking easy!), a bit of time with Branwen Tribe and a wild Renora appear along with Dania/Deedee finding a new home, we get a bit of an update on Menagerie, and then, to wrap it up, we are dragging the Fall Maiden into things while Summer begins to work her charismatic will on poor Drunkle Qrow.
Oh and things are going on with Salem, Watts, and Hazel. Trouble in Grimm Paradise? Oh dear...