Arc 3 - Chapter 68 - The Thrones

Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a burning coal that he had taken with tongs from the altar. And he touched my mouth and said: "Behold, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for." - Isaiah 6: 6-7

She tires.

Already?

How disappointing.

This is the extent of her strength, it seems.

Like the flame, she burns bright.

But all flames grow weaker as they burn. And the hotter they burn, the faster they extinguish. That is nature.

Indeed. Nature.

The flame was made to feast. Predator of the aether. Does the wolf not sustain itself on the flesh of other beasts?

Her belly runs empty.

She has no strength left.

There is naught left to burn.

We could give her more.

Kindling for the flame.

Yet already, we've given so much.

I want to see her fight.

As do I.

More coals for the kiln.

Get up, girl. Make war!

Let your fire burn bright.

Show us your resolve.

Show us your power.

The divine being looked down from his heavenly throne at all the little creatures. He rested his cheek in one hand, looking down on one particular surface world woman with an intrigued smirk. She lay on the ground, apparently defeated. But not by a stronger foe. Every enemy she had encountered had been reduced to ash, so below them as they were. No, she had defeated herself. Her power was immense, but she burned through it too quickly. She was reckless, desperate, unrefined in her joy of battle, her lust for blood. Overeager as a new child. She could not keep fighting. She was done.

But the choir had spoken. Who was he to deny them?

The divine being raised one finger and wagged it in disapproval. "No, you are not done yet. Can't you see? There is so much more fun to be had. Endless fun. Get up, woman. You haven't shown me everything you can do. Won't you show me how hot your hatred burns?"

He tossed kindling into the kiln.

And her flames grew as they ate.

Harriet trudged through knee-deep snow with Captain Oobleck's arm over her shoulder while heavy snow and hail pelted her face. And all the while, she cursed Lieutenant Schnee's name.

She doubly cursed her cumbersome Overshadow technique. Schnee called it The Breath of God, which was not only a testament to her vanity, but also expressed her blatant disregard for anyone who was not her Superior, of which there were few.

Honestly, what the hell was she even using it for? She was one of the strongest agents in the Church, achieving Dominion status after only a couple of years. Sure, Harriet had been called gifted amongst her fellow trainees, but Winter had always been in a class of her own. Not that Harriet gave a shit in any case, she was plenty strong on her own, and having retained her good sense as well. The most powerful bastards in the organization were always the craziest and she had no desire to be a part of that circus.

But really, what benefit could there be in drowning the battlefield in a damn snowstorm?

"Bitch!" Harriet barked as she stumbled over something, just barely keeping herself and Oobleck from falling. She glared down at the thing her foot had caught… then felt a surge of shame that quickly replaced her anger.

It was a person. Or rather, the remains of them. Mostly buried in snow, which was something of a relief, since he probably wasn't the only one. But this was war, as Captain Ironwood had said. Death would be all around. Certainly it wasn't the first time she had seen the dead. Harriet had nobly slain enemies of the organization a few times. She'd started threats to public safety and security. She'd taken a handful of lives in order to save millions. Billions! And she'd slept like a baby every night, confident she'd done the right thing.

But as Harriet stared around her, at the endless expanse of unbroken white, she couldn't help but wonder how many dead were under it. Had to be dozens. Maybe hundreds of dozens. Were any of them people she knew? There'd been this new recruit she'd befriended. Bright eyed, all optimism, hoping to change the world. She'd even taught her a few things. But the last Harriet had heard she'd gone over to the rebels after some bungled mission. Was she out there now, fighting to the last? Or was she under this snow, no more fight left in her?

Harriet shook her head as she continued on, adjusting Oobleck on her shoulder. She still found his broken state hard to believe. The man looked impervious to flaw most of the time, but now he was beaten and bloody, one arm broken beyond use, and barely conscious. Harriet had accompanied The Vicar to the battlefield, assigned as a mere observer and rescuer. She was to ensure the survival of important agents and pull them from the battlefield if they might otherwise die. So far though, no one had needed saving who wasn't already dead, and few of them were among their best. Just went to show that quantity was no match for quality.

Harriet sighed. What was the world coming to? All this insanity with the Rebels had gotten her thinking differently too. She remembered when Hazel Rainart was Vicar, even if at the time she hadn't known it was him. Known for being so strong that there was nothing he couldn't do. The unbreakable man. The Goliath. People had believed he would eventually lead the organization into a new era of prosperity. Then, on a dime, he killed some of the Cherubim, convinced some of the Thrones like Velvet to join him, and became an enemy of the world. How the hell does a man go from the world's potential savior to potential destroyer?

Again she sighed. Well, perhaps it didn't matter anymore. He'd be dead soon enough. The new Vicar was apparently the strongest since Tyrian Callows, who was still considered the most powerful Hunter to ever exist. Hazel Rainart's death was a certainty… if those rumors were indeed true.

"Agent," came Oobleck's ragged voice.

"Captain," Harriet nodded, "Relax sir, I'm bringing you to the safe house. Lieutenant Schnee will take over from here."

He said nothing to that. Perhaps he was too weak to argue or didn't see the point in it. He likely would never fight again, even if she got him to one of their best healers. "You'd best start learning to take it easy now, old man. Let the rest of us take care of things."

And they slogged on. The snowstorm grew weaker the further they went and eventually it was ankle-deep and Harriet could see further on. But in relative peace, Harriet's mind raced with more uncertain questions. She was not the only one. All her teammates had varying concerns related to the organization, their jobs, the rebels, and even the Superior. Some staunchly stuck to their duty and aspirations, while others harbored doubts. Harriet knew herself normally to be quite unflinching. No one could make her change her mind. Once she made a decision, she stuck to it fully and completely.

But she thought of that excited newbie again, and wondered again how she'd gone from committed to the cause to fighting against it? What had she learned? How bad was it that she chose to fight the world?

"Captain," Harriet said, "We… are we… the good ones?"

He didn't answer for a moment. Harriet half-thought he'd fallen asleep. Finally he said, "The organization is committed to the betterment of the human psyche and the preservation of order and peace."

That all sounded good, if very textbook. "But are we the good ones?"

He did not answer. Because it was a stupid question with an obvious answer? Or because he didn't know? Harriet did not like the idea of the latter.

She was just about ready to hasten their journey, but spotted something in the distance. A figure walking straight at her.

He wore a kind of light armor set. A white chest plate and gauntlets. Dark pants tucked into white combat boots. Not a remarkable look of any measure, but his most distinguishing article was a flowing white cape. Hood drew up, shrouding his face in darkness, while the massive ragged scarf billowed in a wind that did not exist. It was that little effect which had caught Harriet's attention. There was no hard evidence on that strange phenomenon, but there were many cases in which the most powerful Heart Hunters could be identified from the rest by their flowing garb. Winter's petticoats, Victarine Peach's surgeon coat, The Vicar's helmet plume, Hazel's coattails. It was said the cloth was a manifestation of power so great that it couldn't be contained completely in their bodies, and as such was always leaking out to some degree.

All this to say, the man heading in Harriet's direction was certainly dangerous. How dangerous? That depended on whatever he was an enemy or an ally. There'd be no way to get around him quickly enough with doing Captain Oobleck further harm. She simply had to meet this stranger head on and hope there was no quarrel between them.

So Harriet watched and waited. The seconds passed like hours as the man seemed to become more mysterious the closer he came. The air grew noticeably colder, moreso even than brutal temperatures of Schnee's Overshadow. Harriet had to press her feet into the ground in order to keep her knees from wobbling. She hadn't had such a feeling before. No, that was wrong. She had felt this, but only once.

Eventually the mysterious figure stopped a few paces before her. The hood still obscured all his face somehow, and the cold he'd brought with him made her skin feel like it would peel. He had a sword sheathed on his belt, but showed no attempt to draw it. Could've been a trick though. He could have a weapon hidden.

Harriet made sure to keep her free hand clenched. Felt electricity surge through her veins. "Who are you? Disclose yourself."

"I'm a friend," a deep voice, but young. "Name's Jaune."

Jaune. That name sounded familiar. Harriet could swear she heard it somewhere recently. She looked him up and down. "You an agent?"

"Apprentice."

"Same difference. " But now Harriet could tell this was simply a child. The cape was probably just some flourish of his outfit. "Well, who's your master, boy?"

"Victarine Peach."

Harriet paused, blinked, opened her mouth, closed it, blinked again. Now she knew exactly who this boy was. The newest of the Thrones. He'd been the talk of the whole damn organization some time ago. Some newbie that managed to defeat an Alter on his first attempt and by himself after only a few weeks of training. No one, not even Tyrian Callows himself, had pulled off such a feat. Harriet still wasn't sure if it wasn't all bullshit.

But he'd also caused a couple of incidents of public security, which put him on the organization's blacklist. There was a new protocol for this specific boy. One Harriet had not seen before. All agents, without exception, if they found themselves in conflict with the boy named Jaune Arc, they were to not engage under any circumstance. They were to retreat and request backup. Specifically to call upon Oobleck, Peach, or failing either… the Superior himself.

"Mister Arc…" said Oobleck suddenly. He was looking up at the boy now. "You should not be here."

"I don't want to be," Jaune said, raising a hand in what seemed like concern. "but I got orders from the Superior."

*Orders?" asked Harriet.

"To stop the war. That's my mission."

Harriet was taken aback. Even Oobleck was, glancing at Jaune with a rare instance of confusion, meaning even he had not been prepared for this jarring one-eighty. Harriet rounded on Jaune. "You little punk, you think this is the time for jokes? The Superior ordered us off to war! He called in special agents from Atlas and Mistral for support. Every agent worth his salt was pulled from missions of the highest importance to serve in the battle! You expect us to believe he sent you to stop it all? Don't be foolish!"

But Jaune was not looking at her, though there really was no telling. He addressed Oobleck like he was the only one there. "I'm not lying, Oobleck. The Superior sent me."

Oobleck gave no argument, just stared at Jaune like he was trying to discern the truth. Eventually he said, "Your aunt has betrayed the organization."

"I know."

"She is now considered an enemy of the public."

"I know."

"She will not be pardoned."

"We'll see about that."

Harriet interjected. "What does that mean? You can't stop this war and even if you could, Peach is responsible for countless deaths! Sorry boy, your foolish master is as good as dead."

Again, they went on like they didn't even know she was there.

"I see," Oobleck said, as if through that vague exchange he'd managed to put all the puzzle pieces together. "That is how it is."

Jaune came close and Harriet nearly attacked, but saw that Jaune was setting his hands gently on Oobleck's broken shoulder and chest. She stood there awkwardly for a few minutes, wondering what was going on but not knowing whether to ask. Finally, Jaune pulled away. And so did Oobleck.

Harriet marveled as the Captain rose to his full height. Tall and unwavering like a full-grown tree. He raised what was supposed to be a broken arm, but with the sleeve ripped off, Harriet could see that it was completely healed. There were scars, evident of its mangled state previously, but now Oobleck moved it around like it had never been a ruin in the first place. But what made Harriet's jaw truly drop was that Oobleck's glasses had been destroyed in the battle, but he simply reached into his coat and produced a new pair, affixing it to his face like nothing. And suddenly he was all business again.

"Just another day for the organization, isn't it, Mister Arc?" He looked at him with a frown. "Very well. I will assist you. What is your plan?"

Harriet looked at the two with mounting confusion. "Wait, Captain, you can't be serious!"

"I'm afraid I am. If it is the Superior's direct order, then it must be obeyed. We will stop the war."

"How?"

Oobleck turned to Jaune. "That is a fair question. Do you have a plan for this impossible task, Mister Arc?"

Jaune took a moment. "How likely is it that the rebels will retreat if we do?"

"I daresay it will embolden them to pursue. Weak they may be, but numbers cannot be underestimated. If we are outside, we will lose more than we would have by fighting."

"Where's Hazel?"

"One of our agents has him engaged. Your aunt is likely assisting him."

The boy palmed his forehead. "Great. Is Cinder here?"

"She is."

"I need her. And Qrow too. With all of us, that might be enough."

Harriet looked at him, bewildered. "Might be enough for what?"

"To capture Hazel."

Again, Harriet was surprised. "Capture him? It'd be easier to kill him! The bastard deserves it after all he's done!"

"But killing him could send his people into a frenzy." explained Oobleck. "Hazel is their beacon. He is the reason they fight. If we kill him, it could incite chaos and there will be no leverage to force a ceasefire. We must capture him to end the war. Correct, Mister Arc?"

Jaune nodded. "Yeah. But we have to do it quickly. It'll all have been for nothing if there's no one left at the end of this."

That Harriet could agree with, at least. "What should I do, then?"

A sudden shockwave rocked their footing. The ground trembled violently at the most bestial and violent roar Harriet had ever heard. She felt her ears pop as the pressure on the world increased greatly in just a second, having to brace her legs as the roar came again, sending cold shivers up her back. She looked around for the source of it, but couldn't see anything. "What the hell was that?"

Oobleck's eyes narrowed to deadly, almost furious slits. "Zulhetl."

Harriet's felt colder now than ever before. "No…"

"What's Zulhetl?" asked Jaune.

Oobleck's mouth twisted into a discomforted frown. He actually looked kind of anxious. Not at all an expression Harriet thought to see on his face. "It is an S-class Grimm that has roamed the Public Domain for an indefinite amount of time. It is older even than my master, and for good reason. In most cases, the creature is heard rather than seen. It moves quite slowly when not stimulated and so is easily anticipated and avoided. Usually."

A pause. Harriet swallowed. "What happens when it is stimulated?"

"It becomes very difficult to stop."

"I've heard this roar before, when I first fell into the PD." said Jaune, "This one sounded a lot closer."

"The creature doubtless senses the high level of Despair on the battlefield, due to frequent Overshadowing. We can be certain it's headed in our direction."

"Is this thing that dangerous?" asked Jaune. "What can it do?

"In simple terms, the Zulhetl is immortal."

Jaune paused. "Immortal?"

"Indeed. Whatever manner in which you slay it, the creature will revive within several days and from then on be immune to that form of death. Kill it with a sword and no steel will harm it thereafter. Turn it to ash and any flame used after will fall off its skin. And no, it cannot be trapped. The beast is too strong to cage and too fast to detain if stimulated. Nothing can be done… except kill it."

"Seriously? Then what ways hasn't it been killed?"

Oobleck was silent for a long, extremely uncomfortable moment. The whistling storm winds were all that could be heard. "It would be easier to list the ways in which it has been killed."

This bitch was a problem.

Once again, Qrow had to duck behind the makeshift trenches some Rebel had made. High walls of solid earth shook and shuddered against enemy fire, each time just barely standing against the volley. At some point, Qrow couldn't recall, the chaos of an outright brawl had started losing its appeal, and both sides had opted for different strategies. The Hunters' smaller numbers did nothing to conceal the raw firepower they had, and they were well aware of it too, damn them. Now, they held a strong position pelting the only stretch of cover in an otherwise flat field, and did not look to be letting up anytime soon. Qrow was beginning to wonder if it was time to switch sides back. He frowned. That was more of his sister's style, and the last thing he needed to do was emulate her. And that had to be saying something since he had been a self-destructive drunkard.

It was a barrage of ice shaped birds—swallows, he guessed—that peppered the walls. Sounding a lot like a bullet fire. And boy, didn't that bring back some memories. This gift was given to Qrow and his fellows with great generosity from the charming Hunter that he'd taken to calling the Ice Queen, whose lack of mercy was truly a sight to behold. The rebels showed their appreciation by screaming a lot, shouting evasive maneuvers, or dying unceremoniously. That was war for ya.

Once the initial volley ended, Qrow looked over the edge to see if the Ice Queen would follow up, then immediately ducked as a hail of ice birds flew over his head. Distantly, he heard someone cry in pain. Unlucky. If he wasn't dead, then he was hurt pretty badly.

These were shitty odds, no doubt. Around him, huddled in the trenches was the remainder of his group. The brave souls who stood against injustice and corruption and challenged the rulers of the world. Qrow wondered how many of them were regretting that decision now. The healthy were trying to rebuild or reinforce the walls to varying degrees of failure, the mildly injured looked for chances to spring counter attacks, and the seriously wounded tended to by healers. No one in sight was dead, thankfully, but that was because all the corpses were buried in the heavy snows above.

"Telling you I saw it!" Qrow heard one of the rebel's say. Some middle aged man helped set his friend's arm in a makeshift cast. "No warning or anything. He crushed them all under that big fucking rock. Didn't care at all who was in the way."

"You were seeing things," said another.

Qrow hadn't taken much interest into what they were talking about, considering he had his own survival to worry about.

He looked around for any measure of guidance, then remembered Peach had run off to who knew where. He shook his head at the entirety of this mess. He was here to protect his nieces and God knew he'd kill anyone for them, but part of him couldn't help but feel this little tussle was pointless. Just two sides throwing themselves into battle at the request of complete psychopaths. Sure, he hated this Superior guy as much as anyone else, especially after what happened months ago, but going to war over it? Was it that serious?"

Another shower of enemy artillery came down on the wall. A section at the end exploded in a scattering of rock and dust.

Qrow turned to a man at the other end of the wall. The one who'd built this semi-forretress in the first place. A valiant effort, Qrow supposed, even if it had only managed to stall for time. "Don't suppose you can make us another wall?"

"Nothing left in me." said the rebel, "Afraid this is the last I can do."

Qrow let out a sigh. "Shit."

"Yeah, shit."

Another blast hit the wall, but this time it held, only losing a shaving of the top, which crumbled to the ground in a heap of ruined earth. Someone returned the favor with a lightning strike, but if it did anything it was impossible to tell.

"What got you into this mess, friend?" Qrow asked idly.

The man's face puckered. "Been in the organization for years. I was a lawyer for them. Made a shit ton of money putting those who knew too much into the nuthouse"

"What changed?"

"My sister fell into the Public Domain. She was never the same after they rescued her. She couldn't let the things she'd seen go, no matter what I told her. She was a small-time reporter, you see." He chuckled and shook his head. "She could never get any story she was passionate about on the news, no matter what she tried. I figured this would be no different. I was wrong. The higher-ups got involved and none of them were too happy about it. Said I had to take care of it, or they would."

"So what did you do?"

He smiled sadly. "What I'd been doing all those years. Put those who knew too much into the nuthouse. We… got divorced shortly thereafter. Brought it on myself. I should have realized, or cared, that I was destroying people's lives. You reap what you sow, after all."

Didn't Qrow know it. How many people had he hurt in his youth due to simply not caring for others? Those years in the Branwen gang with his sister, caring for nothing, fighting and stealing for the hell of it. Enemies of the world, that's how he had liked to see himself. But reality is never the way one thinks it is, be you ignorant or wise.

"What about you, then?" asked the man.

Qrow chewed on the inside of his mouth. "Family got mixed up in this shit somehow. Doing what I can to keep them safe. That and… something else."

"Take it from me, brother. If your family is connected to the organization, even tangentially, they'll never be safe."

"I figured. Still, choices made and all."

The man nodded. "Right, choices made."

"Advance!" Qrow heard The Ice Queen called out, voice audible even over the harsh wind. "Get around the trenches. Turn them out! Let none escape!"

Qrow sighed. "That's bad."

"You think?" said the man, "We stay here, we're sitting ducks. If we try to run, that ice bitch will mow us down before we get ten strides. I've got nothing to stop them."

Qrow didn't either. Being a Curse-type, there were few to almost no ways to use his powers defensively. That had hardly seemed to matter since he tended to favor a more aggressive style to fighting, but now that seemed a foolish mistake. Seemed he'd have to hit that training bag again. Well, if he survived that long.

He'd known it might come down to something desperate, so Qrow took in a breath, then said, "I'll draw her. Moment I do, get this fool crowd moving. I can't take them all, so I'll need those other agents off me. Think you can pull that off?"

The man stared at him for a moment. Perhaps wondering if the idea was good or bad, or maybe thinking Qrow was crazy. "Consider it done."."

He held out his hand and Qrow took his wrist, felt him grip back. He remembered doing so with Summer and all his other brothers and sisters on the force. Every day on the job was a coin toss. You may be coming home, you may not. One day you and your partner are shooting the shit, next you're at your desk alone. He couldn't say he cared much for the rebels or their grand goals, but he knew what it was to put your life on the line for those you loved. Perhaps that was all that mattered.

Qrow vaulted over the wall, into the fells and the winds and snow. The weather had been harsher in the beginning, but it was weaker now, allowing him to see decently enough ahead of him. The Hunters were fanning out now, shouting things like "Don't let them escape" as they passed up Qrow in pursuit of his group. Qrow wished the rebels luck. Then again, he was not known for giving people the good kind.

The woman leading the enemy party had stayed behind, of course, staring at him with bestial hatred. She had to be in her early to mid twenties, dressed in what Qrow could best describe as an armored ball gown. Silver plate hugged her neck and stretched across her shoulders, wrapped around her chest and stomach like a corset of steel. She wore heavy dark boots which seemed fit more for intense soldiering than going to a gala. Her blue and white petticoats strangely fluttered against the wind, as well as a heavy blue coat hanging off her shoulders. As if knowing he'd come out, the woman glared at him with a single vicious blue eye, while the other was obscured by long white hair hanging in front of it. She brandished a one-handed saber, pointing it at Qrow like he had personally caused her the greatest dishonor.

It was never a smart move to poke the bear, but then, Qrow didn't have the healthiest methods of dealing with his problems. "That's a mean look you got there. Do I owe you money or something?"

The girl's voice came out deep and cold. "Do you yield?"

"Really? Yield? Did you spend all this time trying to come up with a cool way to say "Surrender"? If so, that's pretty pathetic." Qrow jumped back as an ethereal saber-tooth tiger sprang out of the snow, its giant mouth opened wide to take off his head. Qrow flourished his scythe and beheaded it first, and its two halves fell apart. "But I'm gonna have to go with no on the whole yielding thing. In fact, I kind of have to kick your ass so that my allies can get away. Nothing personal, kid."

He chucked his scythe at her just as she was about to unleash another wave of those ice birds, frowned as she quite literally stepped aside, as though letting a stranger pass. Still, that gave him the time to close the distance. He darted for her and she stabbed at him, but he switched out of the way, brought his hand up in a claw, brimming with cursed energy. The air rippled where he slashed, particles of black, red, and gold. Then he brought it back, discouraging the girl's counter attack, giving him time to recall his scythe. He harried her with a chain of cuts and black claws, pressing her further and further back. She moved exceptionally well even in such heavy clothing, and Qrow took that to mean that she had to have a lot of physical strength. He had to be careful with this one.

As if to answer his thoughts, the Ice Queen parried Qrow's black claw with the flat of her saber. Gently moving it aside like it was a branch in the path. Then, she lunged her sword at his neck, forcing Qrow to double back. The momentum shifted. She brought on a chain of cuts and stabs. Fencing forms. Each miss leaving a dash of ice as if the blade was oozing cold. Qrow ducked an overhead and brought it up his scythe in a quick uppercut, but the Ice Queen spun away as deftly as a dancer, only to press into his space one again, refusing to give him a breath. Qrow cut down on her head, but she put her saber beside her cheek so the edges of their weapons scraped by, mere inches from her face, all while that murderous blue eye stared right at him.

Qrow pushed off, darting back for some space, but she was on him like an angry wasp. Attacking again and again, no hesitation or scruple. Another saber-tooth burst from the snow, and would have bit into Qrow's shoulder, if he hadn't hoisted his scythe to stab it through the head. He launched the beast at its owner, and she merely slapped it away like it was a toy thrown at her.

Qrow sighed. "Alright, we get it. You're so cool. Do you want a fucking award?"

"Your head will suffice." she hissed.

Qrow shivered. "Scary."

He got a snarl for that one, as well as being the first to take a hit. She feigned a cut, then scored a cut across his upper arm. Shallow, but Qrow felt cold crawl into his wound, making it hurt far more than a shallow cut should have. He might have chalked that up to happenstance, but as their dance continued, she landed another, slighter deeper cut in his side, and he could hear the ice crack as it clutched his skin, cold seeping into his body. So she used her ice powers in a manner similar to how his curse powers worked, infecting him with the ice. Was this some big-brained scheme to slowly lower his body temperature, slowing him down and freezing him to death from the inside out? Or was she just trying to cause him as much pain as possible? If that killing look was anything to go by, Qrow figured both.

So he flipped back as the Ice Queen came from above, stabbing her saber into the ground instead of his head. She didn't stay there though and came at him, fast as a bullet. It was a chorus of steel. Battering, clashing, cracking blades. She was a flurry of pokes and thrusts, lashing at every point she could see. He returned with wide sweeping arcs, great slashes, heavy chops, forcing her to give ground, though her speed ensured he never had enough room to be comfortable.

With a roar, she cut upward as his scythe came down. The sound of their clash seemed to ripple the snow at their feet. The Ice Queen had to press up with her free hand to contest Qrow's strength, which was probably the only advantage he had over her. She he pressed down too and broke her footing, earning a yelp as she crashed flat on her back. Given that opening, Qrow punched her in his face, felt her nose crack. He went for a second, but the roar of another saber-tooth changed his priorities. He jumped away and brought the scythe shaft up just in time to catch the beast's bite. He wrenched it aside, sent it tumbling through the snow, then snapped his finger toward it. In an instant, the saber-tooth was consumed with black flame, flailing about.

He turned back to the girl. "Now, where were—"

Two handed, she slammed her saber against the scythe blade, snarling with more viciousness than before. All teeth like the beasts she sent upon him. Qrow pushed her off, but she sprang right back, sword extended, forcing Qrow to jump to his left. She ended up stabbing into the ground, which might have been funny, but she whipped it back out and sprayed snow in Qrow's face. The bitch could fight dirty! Qrow wiped it out of his face just in time to meet her assault. Dodge, block, dodge, duck, block. She was heaving now, but not with exhaustion. Unbridled fury had twisted up her face as she grinded her teeth together. It reminded him of how Ruby and Yang would lose her minds over video games they couldn't beat. Perhaps he should have viewed annoying this no doubt high level Hunter as a point of pride, but it was slightly diminished by the fact that he was losing steam and she was steadily getting more and more hits.

Eventually, Qrow was getting frustrated with being bullied and came at her with the same viciousness. He coated his scythe blade in cursed energy and chucked the blades at her over and over. She dodged each energy burst like an extremely elusive bug, hopping away and retailing with a flurry of ice birds. Qrow dodged, then sucked in a breath and charged at the girl full-speed. He caught a glimpse of shock on her face, slashing wide and spreading a shower of cursed energy. The girl summoned a wave of snow to rise up and cover her, so the black flames at that instead. She burst through the snow shell with a stab at Qrow's head, but Qrow weaved aside and scored yet another punch in her face.

It might have been caused for celebration, if she hadn't exploded into shards of ice.

Taking a guess, Qrow spun around and slashed. He nearly smiled at being correct, as the Ice Queen had dashed up from behind. but it was a short-lived joy. Instead of following through with a stab, she'd lifted her foot as the blade passed under and stomped down onto the flat of the scythe, pinning it to the ground. Already, she had her blade raised high with both hands, teeth bared in victorious outrage, and brought it down onto Qrow's defenseless head in the space of a second. Damn good trick, he had to give her that. Just sucked that this would be the way he went out.

But when the Ice Queen cut down, hands were empty. Her sword was in the air, spinning away like a runaway discus. There was the sound of someone snapping their fingers, followed by crazy laughter.

The harsh winds and falling snow stopped all of a sudden. There was a long silence. Then, the gray skies began to recede. The snow began to melt at a rapid pace, not even becoming water, just shrinking until they fazed out of existence, leaving the ground dry and unburdened by the violent winter. Now, with the Queen's Overshadow faded, Qrow saw who had joined them.

Peach's adopted daughter, Cinder, was sitting on a rock not far off. One leg folded over the other. She gave the Ice Queen a charitable wave with her fingers, as if greeting an old friend. Or enemy. Especially when Qrow looked at the Ice Queen herself. All the scorn and hatred she'd sent Qrow's way was now triple-fold. Her clenched fist shook so violently that Qrow feared what she would do if she got her hands on Cinder.

"Oh dear Winter, you're here? Surely they could have sent someone more…" Cinder waved her hand in search of the proper word, "competent?

The Ice Queen, or Winter he supposed, recalled her sword. Strangely, she allowed herself to laugh. A very bemused, annoyed laugh like she'd had enough of whatever madness was going on. "I thought my men had killed you."

Cinder waved her hand airly. "Those flies? If you're going to insult me, you could do better. I have to admit, perhaps I went too hard on them and tired myself out. But then I found a second wind. Lucky me."

Winter huffed and shook her head. "I should not be surprised that you would betray the organization. What are you if not always self-interested?"

Cinder hopped off the rock, folding her arms as she strode toward Winter. "Oh we are all self-interested, Winnie. Don't judge me too harshly. I can't take being hated, you know."

"And what is it you hope to gain from this? How does destroying the organization serve your goals?"

"It doesn't serve my goals at all, admittedly." Cinder took a moment of thought, then grinned. "But I suppose… I'm just looking to be entertained. What could be more fun than biting the hand that feeds? Oh certainly, I can be an obedient little bitch just like the rest of you, panting at the heels of the master, hoping for a belly rub. But following orders gets boring sometimes, wouldn't you agree? You have to mix things up. The true joys in life lie in variety."

Winter gave another bemused chuckle. "For your entertainment? Tell me, Cinder, are you actually insane?"

Cinder shrugged both hands. "No idea. If you ask me, it's everyone else who is insane."

The air was changing again. For a moment, Qrow thought that Winter might be activating her Overshadow again. But no. It was getting hot rather than cold. It pricked at Qrow's skin and he could feel himself starting to sweat as if he was sitting in an oven on preheat. If Winter or Cinder noticed this, they didn't show it. Mostly because they seemed more focused on killing each other.

Cinder made a motion with her arms. Like that of an archer setting a bow and drawing the string back. As she did, a black bow tinged with embers and dripping lava materialized. The arrow was one of blue and orange fire, swirling like a tiny tornado as the arrowhead flayed about. The fire lit up Cinder's face, highlighting her pearly teeth set in a manic smile, her amber eyes wide and glowing molten gold. "Have you gotten stronger, Winnie?"

Winter held her sword over her head. Ice began to form and swirl around it, forming around the blade like an extra coating. Then it kept growing. Getting bigger and bigger by the second. Only stepping when the blade was as wide as her body and tall as a tree. The giant blade oozed cold air, crackling like glass, shining a bright ghostly blue. It highlighted her resolute frown, her angry blue eyes sharp as spears. "How about we find out?"

Qrow was feeling entirely out of place now. The last thing he wanted was to get caught up in whatever these two crazy girls were about to get up to. The pressure fell heavy on Qrow's shoulders. The air smelled like smoke and burning wood, growing hotter by the second. Flakes of snow on Winter's side of the field, falling hot embers on Cinder's. The world was loud with the noise of cracking ice and spitting fire. Opposing elements, opposing sides, harmony in conflict. Part of him wanted to get some distance, if only out of anticipation for the scale of this clash…

Until he saw someone grab Cinder's wrist.

One second Cinder is by herself, ready to release that burning arrow. Then Qrow blinked and a hooded figure was standing beside her, gauntleted had on her wrist. Gently, as though trying to advise her against her attack, rather than outright forcing her to stop. A moment later, Cinder noticed the stranger too, turning to him with a look of shock, no doubt thinking the same things Qrow was. How had he got to her without being noticed? Before either of them could get in a word, the stranger said, "Cinder, it's me."

Cinder paused for a long moment. "Jaune?"

Sure enough, when the man pulled his hood back, it was unmistakably Peach's boy. But why was he here? None of the children were supposed to be here. His stomach clenched. Were Ruby and Neptune here too? Were they alright?"

"Jaune, you shouldn't be here." Cinder stated.

"I know, but this is important.." said Jaune, completely unconcerned with the giant ice blade waiting to strike them down. He kept hold of Cinder's wrist, as if fully prepared to restrain her if necessary. "Please. I need your help."

Cinder did not seem the type to take orders from anyone. She didn't even obey Peach without a hefty amount of insults and backtalk. But Jaune had this strange energy about him. His tone, his stance, a sort of tranquility even though this appeared to be an emergency. So Cinder dispelled her fire arrow, and the intense heat that had been making Qrow's every orifice sweat vanished in an instant. She gave a slow, unsure nod. "Alright."

"Lieutenant!"

Coming up to Winter now was someone that Qrow somehow expected even less than Jaune. Oobleck. Hadn't he been fighting Peach and Hazel? He didn't know how powerful Oobleck was supposed to be, but he seriously doubted he could take down Peach so quickly even if she were alone. Fighting Hazel at the same time had all but promised his defeat. So how? Oobleck approached Winter with that omnipresent stern look. "That is enough, Lieutenant. Stand down."

Winter adopted a look of pure indignance. Like a child told it was time to stop playing. "Captain, surely you—"

"Now."

And Winter dismissed her giant magic sword, but not her insulted pout. Qrow half expected her to start jumping up and down and stomping the ground. Instead she gave her superior a flat glare. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Miss Bree will inform you of the details. For now, you have a new objective. Continue your pursuit of the rebels, but do not engage unless you are attacked first. PWe have lost many valuable warriors and we must preserve as many left as possible. Prioritize survival. Gather our forces, hold a safe position, and wait for further orders. Am I understood?"

Winter looked bothered by that, but didn't argue. Very much the type to take orders and not voice her objections much. She pressed her boots together and saluted. "Understood, sir." She turned and gave Cinder one last glare, but Jaune and she were already in discussion, probably having completely forgotten Winter by now. Qrow swore he heard her say a handful of curses, each escalating in intensity, as she tantrumed off. That might have made him laugh, but the immediate what-the-fuckery of the situation put a stopper in Qrow's humor.

Oobleck joined up with Jaune and Cinder, showing absolutely no intent to kill them when he definitely should have been. They conversed just as if they were not in the middle of a bloody war and were trying to figure out their vacation plans or something. Well, Mister Arc, how about we go to Patch? Nah, Cinder hates the cold. All Qrow could do was dismiss his scythe and join them himself.

By the time he'd gotten there, Cinder had thrown her head back in raucous laughter. "Oh this just gets better and better!"

Qrow let out a loud, exasperated sigh, drawing everyone's attention. He said, quite simply, "You guys want to fill me in?"

Well, this one took me a little longer than normal, but I'm glad I got it done. It was actually going to be longer, but this is a better cut off point for pacing.

See you in the next one!