"Thank you, sir." The sight of Ilia, a proud member of the White Fang, keeping her head down brought a disgusting feeling out of Adam Taurus. He had his issues with that girl, least of all was her fondness of Blake who at the time was in a relationship with him.
Still, he was willing to let it slide since Ilia had some capability in leading the White Fang. After Menagerie, she had shaped up into quite a leader, capable of keeping the morale up while everyone else was down on their luck.
None of that existed now. Here she was, bowing her head in shameful humility as she accepted whatever scraps these Valeans were giving them. The fact that those giving were faunus as well also brought out his disgust. These faunus were only chosen under a false pretense of giving them comfort. Adam could see the exhaustion on many of their faces as they were the ones being made to do these things while the humans get to live on in comfort.
Adam had no right to fight back. He lost his weapon and none of the scraps here were right for him. He couldn't even practice that thing he had just learned after touching the spellbook. No. He was, under strict orders, to stay out of sight. His presence and victory over Beacon hung over him as though it were a terrible mistake. He had proven to the world that the White Fang—that the faunus—were serious in their pursuits of justice against the humans.
His hand tightened. The Grail War existed and was made known to him. Not a single one of the Masters were faunus. Even fate would see to it that faunus stayed down? Adam's teeth could only grind against each other at the thought of it.
The faunus there avoided him like a plague. Adam looked away and kept his mask off. The SDC brand on his face, a permanent reminder of his supposed place. Accident? Perhaps. But it served his purpose well enough. If only he could get to show these people that branding. Would they still be against him? They would. They'd think of reasons for his being deserving of that branding if they couldn't prove the accident.
Eye trailed towards the other person on the boats. Blake is someone he couldn't even recognize anymore. He had no words to say. For all her disagreements, she still cared for her parents. For all her naiveté in thinking that she could just run away without much consequence, she still had some drive for the betterment of faunus. None of that was here. She hadn't so much as held a book or read her scroll.
Unkempt, dirtied, and seemingly taking a vow of silence, Blake hadn't so much as spoken to anyone ever since seeing her Beacon partner again. Already, that Yang person left her for another human. That armored boy looked at Adam with indignation as though it was he who had been solely responsible for this.
Adam tried to call out for Blake. Get her to react, to agree, to disagree, to argue, anything. None of them were working. Nothing was working. Both parents were taken from her because of this Grail War. That Sanson guy was also lost but since he had been a friend to the Belladonna family, Adam supposed that had been good enough for Blake. The fact that Sanson tried to save both, while failing at that, must have only weighed down heavily on her.
It didn't stop Adam from trying to call her though. "Blake! Blake! If you don't respond, I'm going to get that tuna away from you!" Nothing? Not even the threat of her tuna was doing it?
The back of his head slammed against the walls. Servants. One of them had been in the book. His hands moved in a poor and lazy imitation of that technique he grasped in a brief moment. It had only been a moment but Adam felt every part of it. Each cut drew back and came forward at such speeds that it was as though there were three simultaneous cuts. None of it would have left behind even stains on the ground.
What was that? He knew that it was a Servant. But what was that? The power and technique. Dare he say it, Adam would admit that the swordsmanship was something he envied and he was a prideful of his own skill if nothing else.
But that? Adam shook his head. It was a skill beyond himself. The sword's length was longer than the one he had used. Not like Adam had any need to practice as of late. His sword was still broken. He wasn't about to ask to be armed, not from his fellows and most certainly not from Vale.
Activities were heard from the outside. Lively activities. Food was shared and temporary shelters were built. One pink-haired, feminine-looking, person carried many logs over one shoulder. The only competition that one had was from a portly, mustached man that was carrying a noticeably, but no less impressive amount. Huntsmen. Those two were huntsmen. They carried a joyous air about them that Adam could feel it from inside the boat.
Most of the shelters were built from whatever scraps that could be found. Tents that were either provided or donated were set up. They were like soldiers' camps, settling down for the night after a day's march. The only exception was those logged houses that those two were carrying.
It would seem that the wooden house was meant for Ilia. She was rejecting the offer but those two had insisted. A necessity, Adam deemed. Ilia should take it. It wasn't just the homeliest of the bunch there but it would be the seat of power for the time being. How those two managed to build a logged home in so short a time and with good enough foundation was beyond Adam.
The sight of the tents made Adam bite his own lip. Had he been stronger, more skilled, he would have finished off that Caster before they would even make it to Menagerie. How he was going to accomplish it, he didn't know. But he had to think of something.
There was no use of it here. Like it or not, Adam is made subject to these humans. Not just any human, but the same humans whose comfortable homes he had just ruffled. So what? The faunus have went through worse than that. There was more that should be done before faunus-kind are truly liberated.
Adam's fist sounded the metal walls. He remembered this feeling of helplessness well, and he hated it. He needed a weapon. But the only other way he could get one without stealing was from Vale.
He sighed. Prisoner it is.
/-/
"I really can't take this," Ilia insisted. "I-I really don't mind sleeping in the tents with the rest."
"Nonsense!" The burly man named Port patted her on the back. Her aura flaring was sign that it definitely felt more than that. "This not only should show your fellows that it is you who are the leader but this also is where further talks will be held between us!"
There was only one part in that that Ilia had a problem with. "I'm only a leader because no one else would take it." There was Sun but she got there first. "I don't really want this."
"Exactly!" replied Port. "A leader of good quality is one who never desired power but steps up to the challenge. There can be no doubt of your good will, lass."
The pink-haired one, Astolfo, was nodding in agreement. "Leaders come in all sorts. And leaders can be made!"
Something about those two laughing together made Ilia feel as though she wasn't even within the same space as these two. They always were about their own thing; they might as well have a different reality. Yet, Ilia, and many others that she could see, their joyous nature was uplifting. A necessary thing in these times and was enough to comfort the faunus if nothing else.
Ilia gave in eventually. "Alright. Thank you."
"Think nothing of it!" Astolfo replied. If it wasn't for the fact, Ilia would have called him cute. He still was but Ilia had her preferences. "If you need any help, just ask me or my man over here and we'll come running!"
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn't about to pry on their relationship.
The two men left Ilia there by her new and temporary home. For something that had been built within the same day, the foundations were there and appeared stable. It looked homely and would have been more fitting had she lived out in the woods during the winter seasons. There were no glass windows and the frames were merely gaps in the home to let some air in.
Where did they even find time to saw these? The cuts were finely cut and Ilia was sure those two didn't bring any carpentry tools of any kind. There were only their weapons and their bare hands and about a few hours at best.
Familiar sounds of a monkey faunus was heard from behind her. Sun was just finishing up his rounds of giving out the rations. Generous, Ilia might add. The more she kept seeing of those rations, the more Ilia felt guiltier with everything that Vale's White Fang sect had done here. She knew it wasn't one of Sienna's orders.
Adam never appeared to have been the kind to lead that attack. But his display when he had planned to confront Sienna showed otherwise. Being brought down to his knees that easily had been a trembling sight for many of the White Fang. Ilia was no exception to that. For those briefest moments, Ilia, and many of the White Fang there, had hoped that Adam would somehow overcome Caster.
But the reality of current matters said otherwise. And Adam was not only brought down to his knees, he had been reduced to whatever state that he was right now.
By contrast, Sun Wukong still kept some modicum of spirit. Ilia saw Sun fight back as well. He was hopeless against Caster and those familiars. But seeing him right now, Ilia had many questions.
"Food for your thoughts?" Sun read her mind. He offered her an apple.
The other food he held made Ilia raise an eyebrow. "You're not really beating the stereotype, Sun."
"Bananas are rich in potassium!" Sun argued. "Besides, not my fault. Bananas are great."
Ilia rolled her eyes and took a bite out of the apple. For a moment, her face contorted to an ugly look. There was a seed that she had to spit out. She didn't even take that big of a bite. At least it wasn't a part that got stuck between her teeth. Those were the worst.
Getting off topic. She wasn't about to procrastinate. Being direct is probably best.
"Hey," she began. "Probably a bad time to ask but did it… did it feel hopeless? Fighting Caster's familiars?"
Sun's disposition wasn't slightly dampened in the least. His eyes, for a moment, looked different though.
"It weighs on me," he said. His tone definitely changed. "How many lives I could have saved had I kept my mouth shut."
"Hey now," Ilia tried to comfort the guy. "You cared for Blake." She heard that shout just as clear as anyone else did.
"Not just that." Sun wasn't accepting of it. "I'm not talking about the others I failed to save. But that I failed Sanson too."
"Sanson." Ilia recalled that man. "The one that went toe-to-toe with Caster?"
There was pride in Sun's voice, like this Sanson guy had been his teammate. "The same one. He's a Servant, just like Caster." Ilia's eyes widened. "But he's one of us! I swear. I can vouch for him." His shoulders slumped. "He asked me to do one thing, and I failed in that. Just get as many people out as I could while he distracted Caster. How many more do you think would be here right now had I just did that?"
Sun wanted to say more. Ilia could tell. She could guess as to what that was. Sun had been staring at the reminder every time he went to deliver Blake's rations.
"How is she?" Ilia asked.
"I gotta be honest. I hoped that seeing her old partner again would lift her spirits."
"The blonde?" Ilia remembered that sight.
"Yeah. Her name's Yang. Just really needed to think about how it would turn out. Can't even imagine how that must have felt like, seeing your partner right next to guy that just attacked your school."
Ilia kept her lips shut. Something told her that this Yang had a more personable reason for her distaste of Adam. Ilia noticed the way that Yang held on to that prosthetic arm of hers.
Sun didn't seem to notice. He continued. "I've been thinking that maybe let things simmer down for now. See how things are going and then try again."
"You really think that Blake and this Yang would get along again?"
"I think it's worth a try."
Worth. Sun wasn't even sure that it could work and yet he deemed it worth it. With everything that is going on right now, on top of the duties that he had taken up for himself, Sun found that Blake's relationship with her Beacon partner was worth it.
"Where have you been all this time?" Ilia quickly realized what she had just said. That came out wrong and not at all what she meant. "Not that! I meant for the White Fang!"
"What you mean?" Sun didn't appear bothered by it.
"Just that much of our recruits needed a lot of convincing that what we're doing is worth it."
"Doesn't every group? Heck, some teams need to know that too. Believe me. My team? We're pretty cool and I wouldn't trade them for the world. But we're also easygoing to begin with. Us being part of the Vytal Festival needed some convincing."
"And what did you convince them with to join the tournament?"
"Who said it was the tournament? I just wanted to see the sights. See the things happening here in Vale that I didn't get to back in Mistral or Vacuo, you know?"
"You travelled a lot."
"Born and raised in Vacuo." Sun puffed out his pecs. "Trained in Mistral."
"Of course you were." Ilia rolled her eyes. Her voice turned sarcastic. "For a moment, I thought you went to Atlas."
"You kidding? I would have had to wear a shirt over there!"
"The horror."
They both shared a chuckle. Never in Ilia's time would she ever think of getting along with someone like him. Those joyous and happy types always felt too much for her. Among acquaintances that she used to know, it was more accurate to say that she was just adopted by them.
Common ground with a concern for the faunus and a mutual friend in Blake. The necessity of some kind of leadership because Adam seemed unable to had forced them to step up together.
"Welp," Sun said. "Time to get these rations to the others. They must be starving by now."
"You go do that." Ilia nodded. "I'll be right here."
"Yeah, leader stuff."
"Actually." Ilia paused, going through her vocabulary for the right words. "You're a leader, right? I was thinking of asking for some more advice."
"You're doing fine."
"Well you had to have some kind of leadership class in Haven."
"You think I was top student or something?"
"Now that you said it, why should I trust for your word of me doing fine." Ilia smirked.
Sun feigned a sour face. "You just don't want to do all the paperwork, don't you?"
"I wouldn't know." Ilia shrugged. "Would have been nice if there was someone with some kind of expertise in the subject. Shame its only you."
"Hey. Just because I wasn't top student doesn't mean I was at the bottom of the barrel."
"Show me how it's done then, mister mediocre."
"Alright fine. As soon as I'm done with my rounds, let's see what we can do around here."
Sun went off to do his usual rations. With the kids in particular, he was especially playful just to lift their spirits. Ilia studies all those faces. Faces of the survivors that had just went through terrible things.
Looking towards Vale's authorities and passersby, suspicion fell upon those who still wore the White Fang's shirts. There wasn't anything that Ilia could do about that; it was what they had on their backs. No one had any time to pack any other things with them.
Ilia sighed. There was no combating against that prejudice here. Not only are there actual members of the White Fang here, herself included, but the White Fang had just attacked Vale. The effects of it were still there from the constructions over the distance that she could see. Vale's infrastructure may be healing but the people's minds and hearts weren't that easy to repair.
How many lives were lost that day? How many of those passersby had families and friends that had perished by White Fang hand? Not just that but the Grimm that came with and after too.
Turning back towards the faunus here. Ilia remembered why she had joined the White Fang in the first place: to make things better for the faunus.
We just… lost our way. They were lost a long way. Ilia would just have to make sure that they could get back on the right track. The Belladonna family's choice of pacifism didn't work but Adam and Sienna's violence never guaranteed success for them either. The bigger fish eventually came for them. How do I even do that? She wondered.
She never did figure it out. All she knew with any sort of certainty was that it was worth it. Making things better for her fellows was worth a try. Like Sun said, let things simmer down a little and try again. With a different plan, definitely, but Ilia was going to try again. The faunus were worth it.
/-/
"Checkmate." Ozpin moved the knight to its final position.
"And you beat me," Watts commented. "If it wasn't for your… circumstances I would have asked why a grandmaster kept himself hidden all these years. I wonder which lifetime it was."
"Lifetimes," Ozpin corrected. "Chess is an old game."
"Is the game really that interesting? I'm surprised that you'd be interested after all that time. Salem herself had done other strange things as far as I knew."
"Watts." Ozpin wasn't having it. "Your end of the bargain."
"Of course." Watts rested his elbow on the table and lazily played with the moustache. "I expected it, including this loss, from the moment you challenged me to this game."
Next to the Masters, the Servants were having their own match. But from the moment that Ozpin claimed victory, their game was essentially done. None of the pieces of their board moved once. Archer was White with Saber being Black.
"Didn't even try, Archer?" Watts asked.
"I confess, Master." Archer raised his hands in surrender. "Saber is an excellent combatant on this battlefield. I dare say, I would lose, and spectacularly at that."
"Eleven moves," Saber added. Archer nodded.
"Very well. A deal is a deal, Ozpin." Watts warmed his hands and cracked his fingers. "Now, Bluebeard. What to say? What to say?"
"I believe that is where I can be of better assistance, Master." Archer took Watt's seat and faced Ozpin. "You already are aware of the history of Gilles de Rais, yes?"
Ozpin nodded.
"Well, what you may not know is that dear Bluebeard was inspired by Gilles de Rais himself. It is why those two are so linked. One could not have Gilles without the risk of Bluebeard and vice versa. Only, Bluebeard has no concern for salvation nor of Holy Maidens."
"Yet when faced with the prospect of killing an immortal, this Bluebeard would choose against it?"
"It isn't the death of others he craves; it is the process of dying. That is a very important distinction to make."
Both Ozpin and Saber felt an anger bubble in them.
"Caster," Archer continued. "Will indeed wish for his Master to die. But the method will be his own hand and I can assure you that hers will be the slowest as he would savor every moment of her screams."
"Will she not get used to it?" Ozpin's teeth grind.
"The physical reactions of pain will be more than enough for that deranged man. She'll be begging for it, if only so the pain would stop."
Saber entered the conversation. "Is that why you kept this Harpe a secret?"
It was Watts who answered saying, "partly. The other is that we never planned on giving it to you after the god of light."
"Me and my Master's wish is to put an end to Salem's immortality."
"And that is precisely why we won't."
"What do you mean, Watts?" Ozpin asked.
"The question you used: the answer you received was that you can't, no? Your plan with the Silver-eyed warriors had been to turn her to stone, settling to seal her away while she could still probably feel every passing moment of being frozen."
"And? Salem has proven herself immortal. Any method I have come up with to kill her would prove ineffective."
"Is that really what Jinn meant by you can't?"
Watts and Archer leaned forward. Their faces smug.
Archer continued for Watts. "There are many ways that could mean can't, Ozpin. There is, indeed, the physical capability. But there is also another. And as a master criminal, having a few lawyers in your pockets certainly shows you the importance of wording."
Ozpin stayed quiet. Saber did too.
"You wish to lift Salem's immortality. But you never planned to kill her, do you? Despite the long life she has lived, all the conflicts you two had over the centuries, against all reason and sense, she still has a place in your heart, no?"
Despite winning the game. Why is it that Ozpin felt as though he had lost?
"You have quite the Servant at your side, Watts." Ozpin will concede at that point. He had thought that with Saber, there was no one else who could possibly have greater synergy.
"Admittedly," Watts spoke as both he and Archer shrugged. "That one is less deduction and more gossip."
"Gossip?" Saber's eyes narrowed.
"From the League. Atlas and Mantle's Companion Berserker is quite familiar with you and your history with your ex-wife."
"How familiar?" Ozpin leaned forward. His eyes darkened.
"Nothing to worry about." Watts tone actually hinted concern and panic. "You had him under your employ in his time."
"Employ? Secret Circle?"
"Well, yes. But he was also your employee. Doctor Jekyll's credentials then and here are from Atlas—which, I suspect is the reason why he was summoned there—but he does spend a lot of time here in Beacon. You even had him in a team with your fellow professors here."
It didn't take long for Ozpin to guess. "Harold Mulberry, Ann Greene, and Thumbelina Peach."
"Peach did mention a friend she had made online," Saber added. "Someone had taken an interest in her Plant Science and managed to find one of her published works."
"Doctor Henry Jekyll," Archer said. "Also known as Mister Edward Hyde. Despite the contents of the novella saying otherwise, one could argue that he is a man of two souls. Much like yourselves, Ozpin, Saber."
"I do not like that smile of yours, Archer," Saber replied. His eyes narrowed.
"Well." Archer tried to look away. "I may have played a part in that. Albeit, unintentional. It is more accurate to say that he split his own soul in two halves. So… man with two halves of a soul?"
Ozpin massaged his temples. Yet another thing he never thought possible: his current incarnation gave himself a headache. One turned to this Christ from what miss d'Arc told me and now I hired a man who split his own soul?
One thing had been consistent at least, at the prospect of ending Salem and his immortality, he took it. That was one relief he knew. Ozpin was still human in that he had a desire to survive. Sometimes, he wondered if that had been the reason for his reincarnation cycle, to retain in him a sense of humanity and desire to live. There were times when he had thought he had gotten close to killing Salem and those moments of thought still hung at the back of his mind.
Perhaps he really had been close.
"At least," he said out loud. "I know that I would give up my lives if it meant ending hers."
"Yes," Watts agreed. "But none of them had been guarantees, you see."
"I've seen guarantees, Watts. They're not exactly pleasant. I'll take possibility over certainty any day."
"Just like this Grail War."
"Just like this Grail War," Ozpin confirmed.
Both Archer and Watts soon gathered their things. "Well," said Watts. "If that's all you have need for us; we'd best be on our way. Running a criminal organization isn't exactly an idle activity, you know."
"Dare I add, Ozpin," entered Archer. "This was highly unnecessary. You could have consulted us and we would have gladly provided."
"For a price."
"Didn't peg you for a cheapskate," Watts replied. Master and Servant laughed together. There was something remarkably classist in their laughter and Ozpin had been royalty once.
Watts and Archer soon left Ozpin and Saber alone in that office. There were no recordings this time; Saber made sure of that. The match had been held in his office, on his terms, with his game.
Ozpin took a deep breath.
"Master?" asked Saber. "You're thinking about the students?"
"With the end of Salem's immortality, the end of the Brother gods themselves, what waits for us afterwards, Saber?"
"Should we be there to see it?" Saber voiced out the thought. These two still have the same mind.
"We're not fighting to win, are we?"
Saber shook his head. "We're only ensuring that Salem loses. Everything else is secondary."
Remnant took priority. Only one of the Brother gods proved to be an enemy thus far. Who is to say that the other one won't take his chance after the god of light has gone?
"If—no—once we could secure victories after Light and Salem, we must then consider the possibility of Dark coming in at some point."
"Are we even certain that Dark would get involved? From our memories, Master, Dark didn't seem to care much of this world and was content to leave it be. Silver-eyed warriors, the Relics, even without the Grail War, these seem to be more Light's work than Dark."
"There can be no doubt that Dark played a part in that, however small," Ozpin added.
"No doubt about it. But to think that Dark would come back?"
"Remnant's Grail War is supposed to be a defense against threats of Remnant, that much is clear. Who could say that sometime down the line, Dark would be the next threat?"
"Let us first consider this Grail War, Master." Saber raised his hands, urging Ozpin to calm down. "Possibility may be preferred over certainty, but we cannot ignore the certainty in front of us."
Ozpin would have made to argue. But he kept his mouth shut. His Servant was correct. There was the certainty of current events that needed to be addressed before that possibility. He might not even be a Master again if that were to occur.
"Sit, Master," Saber insisted. "Your mind is troubled. Let me handle the paperwork in the meantime."
"That does not comfort me in the slightest, Saber." Ozpin at least managed to chuckle. "Neither of us have done the hard part of any paperwork."
"I could always sign it. My authority as the King of Vale still stands. You haven't done anything about the throne either."
"Have I not?"
Saber shook his head. "As King, we still hold authority. Even now as headmaster, we still hold authority. That seat may be empty, but nothing could be done to stop should we wish to take it again."
"I'm sure James would have a fit if he knew of my holding of two seats in the council."
Saber bowed and left. Likely to prepare two cups for the afternoon. Ozpin leaned back on his chair. His aged eyes stared at the ceiling above. The lightbulbs needed replacing. He sighed.
Vale was still under repair. The shores that have now become a refugee camp of sorts for the faunus of Menagerie on top of this Grail War brought a painful stiffness to Ozpin's shoulders. This life of his was getting old.
Ozpin shut out his own eyes. Saber would take a while before the cups would come. It was less the cups themselves and more that Saber knew what Ozpin's mind was going through and sought to give the current face some respite. Those wrinkles couldn't come any later even if they wanted to.
Bitter chuckles escaped him. Saber wasn't just planning on getting some cups for the afternoon coffee. He would make a stop at a cake shop. Memories—no—what ifs were filling his mind.
"How many years would that make you, my little princess?" Ozpin asked no one in particular. "Is that right? Seems like only yesterday you were still learning how to walk. Now look at you, talking about dresses and princes. Come now, let's not keep mother waiting. She's making sure it's your favorite."
There was only quiet. Only Ozpin could hear it, albeit faintly, in his mind.
"What's that? You know I can't hear you when you whisper."
Silence past. Ozpin could only sigh. It's been lifetimes.
"I'm sorry." He shook his head. "But father won't be home tonight… again."
The longer he did this, the softer their voices become. Will it ever come to a point where he would forget what they sound like?
"The least I could do," Ozpin said. "Is make sure that mother comes home."
AN: More on Ozpin's part, mainly influenced by another fic of mine: "A Slice of Cake." Granted, that one was an anniversary, this one had a different event in mind, influenced by a review I had there on FFN.
This is the second time my writer's block was solved by cake, and it led me to write something that kinda relates to cake. Remind me to thank the baker who made those cakes.