Raven was suddenly stirred from her nap. She never had much in the way of socialization. Normally, it would have driven anyone insane. But Raven had a lot of things going on in her mind. She had familiarized and accustomed herself to the monotonous routine of the prison guard coming in to either deliver her meals or to make yet another attempt at having her go out and eat with other huntsmen-level criminals.
There were sets of footsteps that were approaching. It wasn't the guard sent to bring her meals to her. Instead, what stood before her as the doors opened was none other than Vlad himself, now a part of Leo's own staff. Haven Academy had fallen behind to the rest of the academies.
"So." None are aware of their circumstances. All they would know was that Vlad was the one who arrested the terrible Raven the Branwen Bandit Chief. "What brings you here?"
Vlad presented an envelope. "It would seem that some, have in their conscience, believe in your capacity to do better. Thusly, the anonymous have conjured up finances for your bail, and have argued for your release, under the condition that you are to be observed by myself personally."
Raven raised an eyebrow. She took the envelope and read it. It looked legal enough that she wouldn't be able to tell if it had been forged. She was looking for that tell. But Vlad coughed and insisted that she be escorted out of Mistral's prisons for huntsmen and huntresses. Vlad himself had carried her weapons for her.
"A bit early for our nightly visits," Raven said the moment that they were away from listening ears. She raised the envelope in the air. "Who did Leo bribe for this?"
"Headmaster Lionheart had no involvement other than the giving of his blessing." Vlad pulled out a scroll and a box. The box was given to Raven; it was a brand new scroll. He then showed her an image on his scroll.
"You…" Raven pointed at the headline. "You've actually paid for my bail?"
"I have allocated every resource at my disposal to ensure that you are to be released, my Master."
"Why?"
"Because there is a gathering of Servants," Vlad explained. "This Vytal Festival is fast approaching; held in the northern kingdom you call Atlas. I have, in good faith, reason that every Servant has gathered there."
"So? What does that have to do with me? What? You need my permission?" Raven had spent too much time in that prison that her clothes no longer fit her the same way that it did before. She could already feel herself sweating a little from this little walk to Haven Academy. "You don't need my permission. You do as you wish."
"I will not attend such matters without my Master." Vlad shook his head. "I am to face these other Servants as a proper Servant should, with my Master, with you, Raven Branwen." He put out his hand. "And I will ask for your hand for a dance."
"You want me, of all people, as your date for the Vytal dance?"
"I have inquired headmaster Leo on this. Faculty and staff accompanying the students are also invited to the dance, free even to invite their own. I have chosen you and none else will take that place nor will I be convinced otherwise."
As Vlad and Raven stepped into Haven Academy. Raven couldn't help but notice the attention that Vlad received from half the school. Students and employees all hid away blushes or made excuses to gain his attentions. All of that turned sour once Raven was seen. Then, it was just rumors and bad mouthing.
Raven clicked her tongue. "Just like the old days." There was a sadness in Raven's voice. "If only I could get back to those times."
"You have regrets, Master?"
"Only that I wish I still had my innocence, when I didn't know any of this was possible." She gestured to Vlad. "When I didn't know you were possible."
"We Servants exist to make the impossible possible." Vlad bowed cordially. There was a hint of pride in his voice.
"But why bring me? I won't be much help."
Vlad looked to their surroundings. Then, he brought Raven to the headmaster's office. "Headmaster Lionheart."
The lion-faunus, representing the head of Haven Academy and of Mistral's huntsmen, never looked more miserable than now. "Do you need privacy, Vlad?"
"None." Vlad shook his head. "None for the knowing."
Leo nodded weakly.
Vlad then addressed Raven again. "Salem plans on coming to Atlas, under guise of a patroness."
That alone was enough to make Raven jump. "What? Salem's coming? Directly? And you're bringing me into this?"
"She'd want you there as a Maiden," Leo entered the conversation. He wasn't even looking at them. From the reflections, Raven couldn't see any life in that lion. "You and I are known to be allied to her now, after all."
"You say that as if Ozpin hasn't done anything to help you." Raven was waiting for the response. When it did not, she continued. "Ozpin hasn't sent help, has he? Leo?"
"There is no telling how much we've already told Salem. Ozpin, Ironwood, Qrow, Taiyang..." He shook his head. "They have all stopped contacting me. It is as though I've already died to them."
"Come, Master." Vlad gestured Raven back out of the headmaster's office. "Perhaps Ozpin may not provide us the shelter we need, but the other Servants—"
"Can they get rid of Salem's immortality?" Raven went straight to the point.
"I'm sure that some of them had some idea."
"I'm not too keen on mere ideas, Vlad. What I want is some kind of guarantee."
Vlad bit his lip. "Then, I will find means of ensuring that it will happen." He offered her a hand. "But first, milady. May I have the honor of being your escort for the Vytal dance?"
Raven looked at the palm of Vlad's hands. They were pale, almost white. She placed her own hand on it. It felt cold, almost lifeless.
"Fine."
Later that night, a fog had descended upon Mistral. Raven looked in the mirror but couldn't focus on her reflection; Vlad had left her some garlic and hung it by a string on the window. Vlad's face showed calm but his body was seething at the sight. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to get rid of it.
Raven never pegged Vlad for the superstitious type.
/-/
"You're not coming, Master?" asked Nitocris.
"Not an employee of Shade," replied Starr. "Also, can't leave behind the dojo. Besides, they already know I'm the Maiden. What they're looking for is you."
"All other Servants are gathering there," added headmaster Theodore. "Give them a good whooping, Nitocris!"
Maiden and Servant shook their heads.
"Good grief," Nitocris said. "You really shouldn't let your fists decide everything, Theodore. These sands of Vacuo can get tough, I know. But you can't just keep charging headfirst without some sort of thought."
Theodore shrugged. "Act first, think later. Works every time for me."
Nitocris sighed. Her things were with her, along with her official identity under the name "Caster." She had managed to get that past customs since most others were named after some kind of color. Not everyone followed tradition and Nitocris would argue that she was simply born into her name.
For a pharaoh like herself, first class was to be expected. But, she was not in her native land nor did this Remnant recognize such customs or leaderships beyond a fanciful title. They did not comprehend the full scope and weight of such a title.
Once the long flight began, Nitocris pulled out the charms that she had prepared in her spare time. It wasn't the type of magecraft that she would have used but mere approximations of mages of other places and time periods. In this fight against an immortal Salem, her abilities would require her to go against these Brother gods, whose authority most definitely encompass all of Remnant. She is a pharaoh, a goddess in her own right. She couldn't navigate through this as easily as she would if this were Earth.
But that didn't mean she couldn't make her own preparations. She imagined herself contributing to the group. She saw them and knew of their identities. Doctor Henry Jekyll had been the most known quantity among all the Servants, followed by Jack the Ripper whose public name was Jack Schnee-Jekyll—Nitocris chuckled at that. Vlad the Impaler of Haven. The only two left was the Servant of Ozpin and that of this Salem whom Nitocris had yet to learn of their names. Those two were away from the public eye that Nitocris couldn't plan ahead.
The flight was long and the air-conditioning of the airship made Nitocris regret her clothing choices. Vacuo was a hot dessert with its fair share of extremely cold nights. But Atlas was going to be a place of snowy tundra, completely opposite to the hot dessert sands. It was to her benefit that Starr and Theodore had prepared her colder clothes ahead of time.
Entertainment came in the form of a motion picture. It was an adventure film about some archeologists unravelling an ancient tomb that reawakened a curse. Nitocris had one smile on her face as she watched the film. It was entertaining with its share of comedy and seriousness. As someone from Egypt, she knew just what happened to her homeland in the years that had come afterwards. Curses weren't uncommon among that contemporary populace.
It was a long flight. But Nitocris had entertainment to spare. When the airship made its announcement of their arrival, she took a deep breath and readied herself. Now was the time for her to shine.
/-/
Jack put down the knives and the forks and feigned the wiping of her mouth. She looked solemn in Winter's eyes, almost lifeless. But those eyes of little Jack had more life than anyone else in this room. Meanwhile, Winter herself had been holding her breath that she hungrily took as much air as she could the moment that Jacques Schnee gave one single nod of approval. She wasn't alone; Whitley had been much of the same.
Klein took away the plate. The servings had been so small that one couldn't even call it a snack let alone a meal. Jack still maintained her composure even as Jacques Schnee stood up from his seat. Father was still judging Jack, still observing and still making certain of his go-to tool for his campaign, the part referring to children.
Jacques Schnee nodded once more. He stood behind Jack's chair. Jack did not look up and only looked forward, focusing on some spot on the wall. Jacques looked down at her, waiting. He was tapping his fingers. Then, he nodded a final time.
"Excellent work, granddaughter." Jacques Schnee never once addressed Jack as that in the privacy of their own home. Always, it had been street rat. Always, it had been the stray that Winter and that opportunistic barbarian of a doctor had picked up. "Maintain such composure and you will be given permission to attend this… Vytal dance with your mother."
"Thank you, grandfather." Jack maintained composure still. It was better to be safe than to be sorry.
Jacques Schnee then turned to look at Winter in the eye. "I would also like to give praise to you, Winter." Winter got stiff at the mention of her name. "Bringing Weiss along to offer support for her father? Quite brilliant, I would say."
Winter took her chance. "The… offer was a suggestion by doctor Jekyll, father."
His eyes narrowed. He clicked his tongue. "Very well, then give him my praises. I will, however, point out the flaw in one thing: Weiss' team."
"Weiss was insistent on bringing them along." Winter lied. It wasn't completely a lie since the two fully expected that outcome to begin with it. "I would… argue that having her team along would also add further credence to your platform."
"Explain." Jacques Schnee raised an eyebrow.
"What sister means, father," Whitley joined in. "Is that by appealing to the common huntsman, you could court those who aren't as certain in their favor of Robyn Hill."
"Hmm." Jacques gave it some thought. Jack maintained that almost-doll-like impression. But those eyes still contained the most life and joy in this room. Everyone else, barring Jacques, was full of dread, mostly because of Jacques. "Very well, I will concede this point."
Jacques Schnee then left the room. The doors closed behind him and the Schnee siblings still waited for a minute. Once that had been secure, Jack broke off her façade and ran to Winter, hopping each step with the most gleeful rhythm.
Meanwhile, Whitley Schnee sank into his chair. Any tension that had held him up had released by now. "I will never understand why you are so insistent on attending this dance."
"I want to dance with father, too!" Jack explained.
"Of course you do, you little brat." Whitley's voice was full of frustrated annoyance. "Of course you do." He then said to Winter, "do we even have a dress for Jack?"
It was Klein who answered. "I already took the precaution of having one made with Jack's specific and precise measurements."
Jack groaned. "But I wanted one of auntie Weiss' clothes."
"You can wear them here at home, Jack." Winter explained. "But when we're out there, you know what it is."
"Oka-a-ay." Jack had a tune to her. "What grandfather wants, grandfather gets."
"Only in public," Winter completed. Jack nodded. "That's my little specialist."
Winter carried Jack. Whitley and Klein followed behind. Gone was the doll-like stillness of Jack, replaced with the lively child that was expected of her and the one that almost everyone in the Schnee manor preferred.
Whitley and Klein went ahead when Winter and Jack paused. There, mother was still drinking. The only reprieve they managed to get was that mother slowed down and reduced the number of bottles. But that had more to do with Jacques' influence and run for office; one cannot have an alcoholic spouse lest one be judged of their association.
Jack wanted down and Winter let go. Jack's chin and hands rested on the table as she was on her toes in order to reach the elevated table. Willow Schnee had been stirred there, aware enough to acknowledge Jack's presence.
"Hello there," Willow managed to say. "What brings you here?"
"Grandfather says that I did good, grandmother!" Jack said.
Willow looked to Winter. Winter could only return with a pitying look. Willow looked at Jack again. "That's wonderful."
"Is there anything that you want, grandmother?" Jack tilted her head. "Grandfather wants lots of things in public. But what about you?"
"Me?" Willow didn't look like she was sure of what to do. Winter caught Willow's eyes initially trailing towards the empty wine bottles. She shook her head. "How about a glass of water?"
"Okay!" Jack saluted. She then proceeded to go to the kitchens.
Winter and Willow still remained in their spots, distant from each other.
"Care to sit, Winter?" Willow managed to say.
Winter hesitated at first before accepting the offer.
"This… daughter of yours," Willow said. "She's a good girl."
"She is." Winter nodded. There was no emotion behind her voice. It was Winter's turn to be this dull doll. "She's doing more than what is asked of her."
There was silence that lasted. It was only broken when Jack came along with the glass of water.
"Grandmother," said Jack. "It is always good to drink water too. Better than wine."
"Of course, dear." Willow never learned of Jack's name. "My mistake."
"Thank you for this conversation, mother." Winter stood up. She put out her hand for Jack to hold. "Come Jack. We have to make preparations for father's return."
"Yay!"
Winter Schnee gave one last look towards Willow Schnee. It was the first time that they had eye contact, one where Winter could actually look into her mother's drunken eyes.
She sighed. Jack shouldn't be burdened with trying to lift this family. Yet, Winter could see it plainly that this was, for one reason or another, worth it to Jack.
Then again, Winter had been having those dreams again. The latest one had a woman under the name Annie Chapman, a woman who seemed to have a weakness for alcohol. She sighed. She knew another woman who that same weakness; Winter could only hope that Jack was enough to pull this woman away from it.
/-/
"You know," Roman said. "I wasn't expecting that I would have to get you back to Atlas so soon.
"Worry not, dear Roman," answered Phantom. "For you will only secure my return. Both Christine and Raoul are to come to Atlas. That much, I managed to make clear."
Roman whistled. "You're crazy, you know that? I don't know what it is like with you Servants, but I can speak on huntsman terms: taking on five professional huntsmen at once is crazy."
"Raoul is what one would call a huntsman-in-training."
"Yeah, not who I'm taking about."
"Ah, you refer to the bride of Frankenstein."
"I have no idea what that means." Roman shook his head.
Phantom laughed at such a motion. Remnant is truly ignorant of such glorious pieces of art. But they are most ignorant of Christine's presence. They have, among their midst, the greatest voice that could ever grace their ears. Yet, they put more focus on these fighting prowess. Even Christine herself has been consumed by this nonsense!
No matter. In time, she will remember. Phantom cared not if Raoul remained ignorant of his self. It would better serve him this way if Raoul did not for that meant less competition for his dear Christine.
Then, the familiar skies opened and allowed the snow to fall. Weiss Schnee, that was the name that Christine bore in this life. Snow White. Phantom soon left for the opera house. It was nearly time for him to set in motion his rescue mission.
/-/
Jekyll made sure that everything in that stockroom was clean and orderly. For all intents and purposes, the stockroom was his office.
"Professor Jekyll?" Pyrrha Nikos peeked from the slightly opened door. She looked nervous, as if she had done something wrong. No. It wasn't quite that. She was worried about her boyfriend.
"Please take a seat, miss Nikos." Jekyll gestured at the open one right in front of him. "I believe that, with the coming Vytal Festival, it is in your best interest to be aware just what it was that had occurred to mister Arc as his partner. This is especially important considering that you know things that most don't."
That hint had the intended effect. Pyrrha nodded once and sat on the chair. She was still nervous but there was an element of the resolute huntress that Jekyll knew she would be in the years to come. She was no Achilles but Jekyll wasn't Chiron.
The official story given was that it was some mentally ill intruder. A huntsman who never went to any of the academies, hence the lack of a record nor a name from Ozpin.
"His name is Erik," Jekyll began. "But he is most known as the Phantom of the Opera."
"The opera house!" Pyrrha realized quickly.
Jekyll confirmed it. "I—we suspect that Phantom intends to either abduct Weiss or kill Jaune."
"Weiss?" Pyrrha asked.
"Winter, and by extension, her and my…" the thought of it still pulls him out of most things sometimes. "… daughter, Jack, will protect Weiss. I have reason to believe that Weiss is the bigger target than Jaune."
"Your daughter is also a Servant? Like you?"
Jekyll nodded. "I am the worst among them all, miss Nikos. The weakest of the bunch, and neither I, Jack, and yes, even Fran, aren't going to be the only ones going there."
"There's more?" Pyrrha raised her voice and nearly leapt out of her chair. She sat back down. "Sorry."
"It's alright." Jekyll gave her a sincere, comforting smile. "It is an understandable reaction. But, I am telling you this: while I believe that Weiss would be prioritized over Jaune, the chances of Phantom choosing Jaune instead is not zero."
"But why? Why would this Phantom want Jaune?"
"He's a man possessed by infatuation. That is the best answer that I could give."
"What?"
Jekyll gave Pyrrha an abridged retelling of the Phantom of the Opera. He further left out all unnecessary details that weren't going to be useful; he was there to tell Pyrrha what she could be facing, not to tell an tale of entertainment. Pyrrha may not amount to much against the Phantom, if any at all, but Jekyll could rest easier knowing that there would be someone who would look out after him; he would make sure that that someone is going in blind.
"But what do Weiss and Jaune have to do with this?" Pyrrha asked in the end.
"Phantom believes that Weiss is the reincarnation of Christine. I do not know how he came to the conclusion of Jaune being Raoul. But the fact of the matter is that he does, and he believes it fervently from the little I've seen."
Pyrrha nodded, better trained and more receiving of the strange things that Remnant knows little about. "I'll defend Jaune with everything I have, professor."
"No, miss Nikos, you will not." Jekyll shook his head.
"But—"
He raised a hand. "Phantom is a Servant. You will lose, and I will not let a student throw away her life, even if it meant saving someone else. Should there be any suspicion that mister Arc would be chosen by the Phantom, you are to take mister Arc and run. Do not trap yourselves anywhere, force yourselves out if you must. But under no circumstance will you give up your life to protect him. Phantom will get you and then him, and the rest of your team should they choose to follow you. Am I understood?"
Jekyll didn't want to do that. But he needed to make that point. Pyrrha nodded. "Understood, professor."
"Good. Now go. You have a tournament to prepare for."
/-/
Fran had been pulling Ozpin's arm as if making a public display of him throughout the nightly hallways of Beacon Academy. Everyone else had already fallen asleep and the flight was the next morning. Yet, Fran still dragged Ozpin out of his usual resting place and was being brought to Fran's own dorm. Ozpin suspected that Fran decided to double check, making sure that all the electrical equipment hadn't been left on.
Having his suspicions confirmed, Ozpin was then dragged into Fran's room. Fran turned on the lamp that was on the small drawer, right next to the bed. She then hopped on the bed only to hop back out once she realized some kind of mistake. She took a chair and had it placed by the bedside where the lamp was.
Afterwards, she put a book on the drawer and then hopped back on the bed. She patted the chair as if expecting Ozpin to sit. She pulled the blankets to cover herself and hugged a teddy bear tightly. She pulled out a scroll, searched for an image and showed it to Ozpin.
"Bed…time…story," she said and then put away the phone.
"All this for a bedtime story?" Ozpin nearly laughed like it had been a joke. But though he couldn't see through the bangs, he could imagine the pleading eyes in Fran. It reminded him, almost, of times long past. He gave in, just as he did those times.
The book that Fran had chosen was titled, The Amazing Alchemist of Mol. It was about a farm girl that had been swept up in a tornado, along with her house and dog, and landed in some fairy land, called Mol. It wasn't the Girl who Fell through the World with the Ever After but it was close.
Ozpin opened the book and began to read it to Fran. "There was a girl who lived in the midst of the great prairies of Vale, with her uncle, who was a farmer, and her auntie, who was the farmer's wife..."
The reading lasted into the late hours of night. Fran stayed awake for much of the readings that she made it to the end. Amusement painted Fran's lips when Ozpin would give each character their own voice and accents as he read on.
"… and oh, auntie! I'm so glad to be home again! The End." Ozpin closed the book and turned off the lights.
But before Ozpin could leave the room, he heard Fran groan.
Somehow, he felt as though he knew what to say. "Goodnight, Fran."
"Good… night…pa…pa"
It was a good thing that Ozpin had already closed the door. Ozpin froze in place when he heard that.
AN: Okay, now we're officially gathering to Atlas. Also yes, the "Amazing Alchemist of Mol" is just the "Wonderful Wizard of Oz." Why Mol? Easy. Oz is short for Ounces.
