Book II: The King's Dilemma

Chapter 47

The dark, foreboding chamber was bathed in the dim glow of flickering torches, their light casting eerie shadows that danced along the cold, stone walls. The scent of damp earth and the faint, acrid tang of ancient magic hung heavy in the air. The Goddess stood off to the side, her presence a terrifying mix of regal authority and malevolent power. Her eyes, a chilling crimson, surveyed the scene with a detached curiosity.

Around her, the room was filled with the soft whimpers of human children, their heads barely above the black, Grimm pools as they struggled to stay afloat. They had been from different parts of Remnant—some from the deserted sands of Vacuo, others salvaged from the abandoned slums of Mistral's lower levels.

Her perhaps most loyal servant appeared beside her, manifesting from one of the dark corners of the space. He was loyal out of both choice and insanity. Someone like him desired to fulfill himself by serving someone's will. It was not sheer luck that he fell into her hands.

"Goddess, have you found any prospects, yet?" Tyrian inquired.

"No. The Pool filters them. Not all survive, naturally," her voice was a silky whisper that carried an ominous weight. "Those who do come out much, much stronger."

"I see. Shall I mourn for them?" he asked in an excited manner, "Perhaps the absence of family creates an unwelcoming atmosphere for them, in which case I may be able to—"

"No. There is no need to mourn."

"Yes, Goddess," he pouted childishly.

"Man is destined to die," the Goddess floated across the floor, granting herself a better vantage point of the struggling children.

At first, they had screamed; they screamed and shrieked and bawled and cried. But their little limbs could not flail about, and soon they were deprived of their infant-like energy.

When the fourth day of the seven-day ritual had passed, they could only wail softly through their parched throats.

Listening intently, Tyrian followed her, like a dog heeling to its master. His footsteps were magnitudes louder than her own, indicating his mortality.

"Since man is fated to depart the flesh, why should we torture ourselves over that parting? After all, the living know that they will die. Whether that time is now or later is trivial."

"Goddess." She came to a sudden stop.

Her latest project knelt in front of her. For so long she had been an adversary, an irritating thorn in the side. Salem found her the best servant, above even the likes of Tyrian.

Perhaps it was because she did not speak much and listened more. Perhaps it was because she didn't have any outward thoughts or desires other than to serve her.

The scorpion faunus was unsettled at the sight of his comrade: his heart beating out of his chest, the blood vessels expanding imperceptibly in his eyes, his leg muscles trembling and twitching in preparation to assault her project.

The Goddess could see it all. The thought of losing his treasured position was apparent in his mind. Even though he held the rank of Upper Apostle Two, the threat of this newly-appointed Lower Apostle Four was clear.

It was all too much for him. He turned to the Goddess and opened his mouth.

"Goddess… if I may?"

"What is it?"

"Am I not your Adam?" Tyrian asked, his voice trembling. However, there remained a sliver of hope.

"No, I'm afraid you are not. My Adam is already in Mistral. And this is my Eve."

Tyrian shrank back, his hope extinguished like a candle in a storm. He bowed his head and quickly left, hastily vanishing back into the darkness, somewhere else in the castle. Salem watched him go, then glanced at the thing in front of her.

Contrary to the scorpion faunus' reaction, her project did not even do so much as twitch. She was completely unresponsive. Obedient. Just how she liked it.

Now…

Salem elongated the fingers of her right hand. The room grew colder, the cries of the children becoming distant whispers.

She plunged an index finger into her project's eye and used the middle finger for the other one. The sound was sickening, a wet squelch that echoed through the chamber. Her project did not scream, did not flinch. There was no response to her actions, which greatly pleased Salem.

Salem's fingers twisted, the flesh parting easily under her touch. The project's breath came in shallow, rapid gasps, but there was no other reaction. Salem leaned in closer, her breath cold against the girl's skin.

It seemed like she had to dig a little deeper. Twice had she done this before, but her project was resilient, and it required her to devote time and effort. The girl's body lurched backward at the force.

The Goddess thrust her other hand in a sharp motion, tendrils shooting forward and piercing her project's chest. This time, the girl let out a little gasp, her form quivering at the motion.

"Good girl. Stay still for me."

Salem began to draw the soul out, pulling it strand by fragile strand from the girl's body. She began to hyperventilate, her breaths coming in ragged breaths. The process was slow, deliberate, and excruciating, but necessary. Her project's thoughts and emotions, raw and unfiltered, flowed through the tendrils and into Salem's waiting grasp. Slowly, it coalesced into an orb.

The girl's mouth opened in a silent scream. The eyes turned silver but did not emit light. Her heart thumped loudly—beating.

Just for a fleeting second, Summer Rose came back to life. A hand reached out, seeking purchase against the tendrils that pierced her body. But refuge would not be found.

Salem took all that she could. The aura, the lifeblood, the essence, all of it. She drew all of it out of the corpse of Summer Rose.

Silver turned to black. The heart and blood flow stilled.

And just as fast as she had come, Summer Rose left.

But, as before, the Goddess found she could not withdraw all of it. Another session would unfortunately be needed.

The opening of her mouth swelled grotesquely into a maw in order to accommodate the size; she shoved the orb down.

She relished in the intoxicating taste of the orb. The thoughts and feelings that remained in the soul trapped by her magic. The weak aura replenished rather than repelled.

Then, she swallowed, and the first wave of memories rushed forward. A faint light flickered down her throat as the orb descended.

Despair.

I lost my voice, I lost my wings.

Finally, even the tears couldn't come out anymore. Over and over and over, no matter how many times, I couldn't save you.

The girl's words echoed through Salem's consciousness, tinged with resignation and a numb acceptance of suffering. A beautiful, succulent taste.

Nothing was left. Isn't there anything?

I tried, I tried so hard! For so long, I tried so hard all alone. I couldn't save even one thing.

It's not me, it's not me! It's not my fault.

A desperate plea, an anguished denial of guilt and responsibility.

I was frozen in fear, so I couldn't protect you.

My sweet Ruby and Yang.

Finally, when Salem had consumed every last fragment of the orb, she felt a surge of satisfaction ripple through her being. Her crimson eyes gleamed with renewed intensity, a testament to the strength gained from the girl's essence. A finger lifted, tracing the outline of a memory etched into her mind.

The Goddess regarded her project. She had been reinvigorated, and there was not much left of Summer Rose in the girl.

Salem could not deny that this would have been impossible without the work of her benefactor.

One more, perhaps one more session would do it. Two at the most.

My Eve.

Extending her arm, her index finger gently brushed her project's chin and lifted it so that their eyes met. Such dark, tenebrous eyes. They were exquisite.

My Summer.

Her lips curved upward into a cruel smirk.

My Rose.

-o-o-o-

She lifted the bracelet to the light, inspecting how the warm-colored, yellow light glinted off of the metal. The custom suits that they had designed themselves, back when they were at Beacon, had finally arrived from Atlas; well, Percy had delivered the necklaces to them, albeit slightly late and through a messenger, but it was unquestionably worth the wait.

Made of the most advanced nanotechnology embedded with trace amounts of aura, the necklace could bend forms and change into a bracelet or anything she wanted it to. It was customized to her semblance, Burn, helping her better absorb and redistribute kinetic energy. The idea was the same for her friends and teammates. Luckily, they had been warned that the suits would shred clothes the first time that they were activated; it was to calibrate the shape of the body. However, afterward, it would look fine.

Yang didn't really get how it worked, but fancy Atlas tech wasn't her forte anyway. With this, she could probably beat that Akira woman. She double-tapped her bracelet and the inky-black nanobots began across her body. The feeling was a little… weird, but not unpleasant, like an unfamiliar massage.

Maybe she was being a bit narcissistic, but she looked good. She paused by the golden-rimmed, full-length mirror to admire herself. The suit fit her snugly like a second skin, showing her soft curves off to full advantage. The yellow and lavender highlights complemented her eyes and hair.

She willed the suit to cover her face, and it so did, leaving the back of her head and her hair.

A voice came through the half-closed doorway. "Yang, we need to get going soon!" She vaguely recognized it as Pyrrha's. "Make sure to put on your robes, not your normal outfit!"

"I thought the dinner was at six o'clock?"

"It is, but House Han sent transportation early. That's how they do things, anyway." Pyrrha poked her head through the doorway. The crimson-haired girl whistled when she saw Yang's suit.

"Wow, that's a cool design," she paused for a second to admire it, "But we gotta get going."

"Okay, okay, I'm coming." Yang willed the suit away, back into its bracelet form, before realizing that she was naked. She had taken her clothes off to admire the suit in the mirror, and now they lay discarded on her bed.

What was her luck…

Pyrrha's emerald green eyes widened, but then she suddenly smirked. She whistled. "Nice tits."

Then, before Yang had a chance to respond, Pyrrha slipped out of the room.

"Pyrrha! Get back here right now!" Only the sound of mischievous laughter answered her.

She breathed a sigh of relief—at least Pyrrha hadn't made it awkward.

-o-o-o-

"We need to go over your etiquette for the dinner."

"Come on, you've gone over everything already, right?" Percy groaned at Nao's words, but the devil incarnate shook her head, holding up a finger and wagging it.

"Sorry, we're not done quite yet. Besides, it's the Han estate," she explained, "They're big on stuff like that."

"You're smiling," he accused, pointing a finger, "You're enjoying this!"

Nao looked away. "No. Stop throwing around baseless accusations."

"Yes, you are. Look, the proof is right there!" he cried, "You're smirking!"

The brown-haired woman rolled her eyes and shook her head as she turned back to face him, her hands on her hips. "Regardless, I need to drill you to make sure you got everything and so that we can cover any missing holes in your knowledge, so to speak."

"Fine, fine, whatever."

The way she was positioned, with that stern look on her face, briefly reminded him of Glynda Goodwitch. Percy wondered how she was doing over in Beacon, managing everything with Ozpin gone. It must have been a headache similar to what was going on for him over here. He felt sympathy for the woman.

The Sword of Mistral hummed, "Okay, then. Fortunately for you, Percy, you're like, divine and whatever," Percy smirked, "So you don't need to show the typical respect required of younger people. You're also good with chopsticks, apparently. But there are still things you need to do."

During the short time that he had spent with Yoshimoto Nao, he had come to understand her, just a bit. Even though she was around Winter's age, in her mid-twenties, she felt like a grown-up version of Yang, or maybe Nora. The outgoing, teasing type, which was the exact opposite of the personality of Weiss' sister.

He was kind of lucky to have her; Mistral was a huge culture shift. Coming to Remnant from Earth, Vale had been his first destination, and out of sheer luck, it was the closest to the United States in terms of culture.

Atlas wasn't too different, but it was obviously more militaristic. Mistral was the definitive outlier, and since Pyrrha was busy with her studies, she couldn't help him.

"Do you remember the five fundamental rules?" her voice broke him out of his reverie. "More than anything else, you need to know these five."

"Never stick chopsticks in the food or point them at others," he recited, "Never cut noodles short. Always step with my right foot first out the door. Sit at the head of the table when dining. Accept any gifts that nobles may give me, but not too eagerly."

"Okay! That sounds about right," Nao paused. "Do I need to go over all of cutlery again?"

"No, you don't."

"It sounds like I do, though," she tapped a slender finger on her chin, "Why don't we—"

"You don't," he insisted. She let out a giggle.

"Relax, I was just teasing you," she sobered up. "On a more serious note, however, you must assert your authority the moment you step into the room."

"Why?"

"The nobles are a backstabbing bunch. Although the Great Houses certainly welcome you, not all the Minor Houses will offer you the same courtesy. The Minor Houses especially are always plotting to take out an Heir Apparent to increase their chances of becoming a Great House," she scowled, before fixing her face. "As you can probably already guess, lineage is of the utmost importance here; it trumps ability, intelligence, merit, you get the point."

"It is better to rule through fear than through love. However, the best rulers are both."

"That a quote or something?"

Naturally, given his Athena-blessed mind, he knew who the quote had come from on Earth, but he was uncertain of whether or not the person came from Vale or from Mistral…

"Niccolò Machiavelli, once the crown Prince of Mistral. I'm surprised you haven't heard of him. He published the book titled 'The Prince' which was by far his most notable work."

"He was a crown prince?"

"Oh, right," Nao gave him a smile. "In the past, Mistral didn't have monarchs or emperors, but the crown princes or princesses, who essentially served the same function. They had the Mandate of Heaven, which was the authorization of the gods for them to rule over the kingdom," she explained.

"But the idea was not to put the rulers so far above the jurisdiction of the Houses. Things like that leave a bad taste in people's mouths, particularly when the ruler isn't divine. The crown prince could lose their Mandate if they ever misbehaved, and the signs of the gods' displeasure were huge natural disasters—storms, droughts, and the list goes on."

"The crown prince was a title that could be revoked by the Council using a majority vote and would be easily replaced since they didn't hold power over the Mistralian military. You can find numerous instances where they tried to amass military power and failed because the Mistralian Council sniffed them out. Once, they even tried using Haven Academy huntsmen!"

"So they were kind of like puppets for the Council to manipulate."

"Exactly. In essence, you are the first emperor in the history of Mistral. Rejoice!" she spread her arms in an exaggerated manner. "The Council is handing over military power to you as well. Since, well, it doesn't matter in your case. Also, one head is more efficient than a bunch of squabbling nobles during meetings. You're getting handed the keys to Mistral. Need I explain more?"

With this, he was officially in control of Mistral, despite the crowning ceremony occurring later in the week. He was suddenly reminded of the acute, tingling feeling of the ring on his left hand.

Crown Prince Apollyon had a nice ring to it, but Emperor Apollyon had an even nicer one.

"You sure are well-versed in history," he remarked. "That's enough history for today, though."

"I try my best," she shrugged nonchalantly. "History was one of my better subjects during school at Haven."

"Bragger."

-o-o-o-

The sleek, all-black limousine doors were opened by the escorts and out stepped the eight teenagers who were completely unused to the situation. Yang made sure that she was next to Ruby as they began taking in the scenery.

Past the large, gilded gates, the Mistralian Estate of House Han held an air of reverence and power. It was perhaps the grandest thing they had ever seen—leagues more than any huntsmen academy.

The living space interacted and intertwined with lush nature and greenery as if it were a house built in a garden-forest—the total opposite of the industrial complexes of Vale that Team RWBY was used to. Although the estate was technically enclosed with gates and walls, it certainly didn't feel like it. The entire place held a countenance of mystery. The heady, tropical scent of petrichor hung eminent in the air.

"It's sooooo big, holy shit!"

"Language, Nora."

"Shush Renny, are you even appreciating the scenery?" Nora replied, crooking a finger at the boy like she was scolding a child. "Just look at the thing, it's grandiose!"

"I didn't even know you had that word in your repertoire," Jaune said offhandedly, "Grandiose."

"Repe-what now? Jauney-boy?"

"Mistral is so different from Vale," Ruby said. Yang nodded.

Having spent a few days in Mistral now, the culture shock they experienced was extreme, beyond the whole last name-first name thing. No one whispered in classes, and the professors were far stricter than at Beacon—there was no Mistralian version of Peter Port to be found. Everything was graded, and team rankings by subject on leaderboards were displayed in certain areas of the Academy, which fostered competitiveness between teams. Some groups were a little too ambitious, and they definitely didn't like outsiders.

"We're kind of the outcasts," she commented. Ruby giggled. Behind them, the limousine drove away and the noise gradually faded in the background.

Teams RWBY and JNPR stood out like a sore thumb, especially in the cafeteria. Part of that might have been the fact that they were the new teams, but most of it was because of the drastic difference in culture, not to mention their connection with Percy. Everything was overwhelming.

Thankfully, Sun and his team had helped them fit in a bit more. Although Kalman had been their guide for the first day, he was… brusque, to say the least. As soon as the first day had ended, he'd said his goodbyes and left. He was nowhere to be seen during lunch on the second day—at least until lunch when he had wordlessly handed them envelopes that contained the necklaces from Atlas and the invitations to the Han Estate for dinner. It also explained that they were "Seraphs" of the Church of Apollyon, whatever that meant. Not long afterward, the limousine driver had come to pick them up. It would have sufficed to say that the level of opulence and luxury was unheard of, and experiencing this after weeks of hanging around in the wilderness… the difference was night and day.

Speaking of which, why were they even there? The letter had contained barely any information about the actual dinner and had just said to attend the dinner in their student uniforms. It was probably a formal dinner, considering the level of prestige that House Han held, looking at the grandeur of this garden-palace.

A butler came out to receive them, but before he descended the steps, a cheerful voice broke out.

"Oh, Team RWBY and Team JNPR! How delightful! Please, please, come in!"

Someone else had come outside as well. In front of them stood a woman with gentle features; she was wearing blue, flowing robes—a Hanfu, Pyrrha had called it. Her wavy, black hair was put up in a bun, and she smiled in that motherly way. She was Yang's height, maybe a little shorter.

"Madam," the butler said, pulling the large doors open, "Please allow me to take care of the guests—"

"You are all Kalman's friends, right? Oh, right, Perseus is here too!"

Percy was here? Did that mean that this whole dinner was for them to meet with the Han family and Percy…? It was definitely important, then.

Yang's mind circled back to what she had said. Perseus. Not Apollyon, not any of that Emperor nonsense, but Perseus. Finding someone that treated them normally was like finding a needle in a haystack. Yang instantly started liking this woman.

Speaking of which, they needed to talk to Percy about everything, and debrief the whole situation. Since two days ago, they hadn't had the chance to meet with him…

"Oh, Pyrrha! My, you've grown so much!" the black-haired woman rushed up to give the redhead an enthusiastic hug, which Pyrrha returned with the same amount of enthusiasm. "I remember when you were a little girl heading off to Beacon on the other side of Remnant! Everyone was so worried about you!"

"It's only been one year!" Pyrrha protested, but to no avail, "I can't have changed that much."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say, Pyr Pyr," the girl flushed in embarrassment as the black-haired woman whirled back to the rest of them. "I'm Kalman's mother, Liu Apate, by the way, but you can just call me Apate! Please, follow me."

Now that they had ascended the steps and gotten closer, the similarities between Kalman and Apate's features were clear. She had the same eyes and thick mane as he did, even though the colors were different. The woman turned decisively on her heel and began to lead them.

As they stepped into the core of the estate through the main entrance, they were granted a better vantage point than before, and it became apparent how quiet and calm the space was.

A serene harmony between man-made structures and the lush greenery that surrounded them. The buildings, crafted from white marble and dark wood, featured sweeping roofs with upturned eaves. Each roof was adorned with intricate carvings and painted in vibrant hues that both contrasted and conjoined with the landscape.

They moved onto a stone pathway that wove throughout the grounds. Ponds mirrored them on each side, filled with koi and lilies. Here and there, the walkway was bordered by bamboo groves and tall, bonsai trees, which created natural canopies that dappled the sunlight. Stone lanterns and water features added to the sense of peace, their gentle sounds and soft lights creating an ambient atmosphere.

None of them dared to speak loudly, lest they disturb the tranquility of the scene. Nora pointed at the fish excitedly, while Ren nodded along. Jaune, Ruby, and even Pyrrha all seemed just as awestruck. Apate had a small smile on her face as she guided them through the area.

"As you can see, Pyr Pyr, we've done some renovations over the past year. Like it?"

"I do, I like it a lot," the girl replied, no longer sheepish about her nickname.

Blake and Weiss trailed behind, talking to each other in whispered tones. What was that about? Were they dating? Did she have to give the shovel talk to Weiss and Jaune now? And if they were dating, then that left just her. Why was everyone dating someone except her?

They moved into the interior of what seemed to be the main building. Their guide opened a large, sliding door made of paper and wood. High ceilings with exposed wooden beams added to the sense of openness, and the other side of the room was open, perfect for viewing the gardens.

"Hmm, it seems like he isn't here to greet us yet," Apate mused. "Well, he gets forgetful sometimes. Pyrrha, I'm sure you remember the way to Bang's study, could you…?"

"Yes, of course." Before Yang could even say anything, such as asking the one person who knew this place not to leave them there alone, Pyrrha had bowed out of the room.

"Yang dear," Apate addressed her, "Kalman should be in the main garden. Could you find him for me?"

"Sure…—wait, how do you know my name? I didn't even introduce myself."

Apate laughed, a smile on her face. "You're a sharp girl. I consider myself adept with names, you see. I memorized all of yours before you arrived."

"Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna," she began pointing out names, "Ruby Rose, Jaune Arc," the two lovebirds turned bewilderedly, "Nora Valkyrie, Lie Ren, and of course, yourself, Yang Xiao-Long."

That was… kind of creepy, but also strangely cool. These Mistralian people were really, really different.

"Um, okay, I'll find him."

"Thank you, dear. Now, do any of you know how to play mahjong or shogi? Chess is fine as well…"

Yang left the way that they came, and when she was a hundred paces away from the main building, she realized that she had no clue where the main garden was. Why hadn't she asked about it?

Stupid, stupid Yang. The entire thing was déjà vu from the get-go. Okay, now she just needed to find someone to talk to, maybe a worker or a guard so that she could find where it was.

After five minutes of meandering through the beautiful gardens and stone walkways, Yang found… absolutely no one. Tired, she decided to sit on a wooden bench, leaning her back against it. It was cool to the touch, allowing her to relax for a moment.

Kalman was supposed to be in the main garden. Where was that, anyway? The blonde-haired girl let out a sigh.

The white-haired boy had caused her an infinite amount of trouble. Somehow, she didn't even have his scroll number. If she did, this would have been so much easier. He should have just shown up on time. Whenever she found him, she was going to give him a stern talking-to. That boy was as antisocial as they came.

She closed her eyes. The gentle chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves, and the distant trickle of water helped to calm her frustrations. As she was sitting there, mulling over her thoughts, a faint, melodic sound reached her ears.

What was that? She stood, trying to pinpoint the source.

The sound was hauntingly beautiful, a gentle, lilting tune that seemed to blend perfectly with the natural ambiance of the garden. It was soft, almost ethereal, and it beckoned her to follow. Intrigued, Yang began walking in the direction of the music, her footsteps light and careful on the stone pathway.

As she moved deeper into the garden, the music grew clearer. It was a flute, its notes were crisp and pure, weaving a delicate melody that resonated with an unspoken emotion. She could feel the music in her chest.

Rounding a corner, she finally saw him. Liu Kalman stood in a secluded part of the garden, underneath a large canopy tree. He was alone on a wooden bench, the flute held gently to his lips.

The words she had wanted to say to him died in her throat. Not wanting to intrude on the moment, she stopped a few paces away, hidden behind a tall bamboo grove.

-o-o-o-

"Percy, there you are!" Pyrrha rushed over to the boy, hugging him. They were outside of the greeting room, on the open-aired walkway. After Lord Liu and Yagami had arrived, Percy was slightly late, and Pyrrha had waited outside anxiously.

"Where's this coming from?" he laughed, returning the embrace.

"I haven't seen you in a while, you know," Pyrrha said, releasing the hug. She looked downward, toying with the diaphanous fabric of the robes covering his torso. "Don't you want to spend more time together? Like, girlfriend and boyfriend?'

He offered her a smile. "You're right, and I'm really sorry about that. I've been busy, as you probably know. Listen, I can talk to Lionheart to figure something out. With you having school, it's pretty hard for us to spend time together, you're right. Even though it was our fault for pushing everyone back to school in the first place."

Technically, she was the one who had suggested it, but Percy had actually implemented it. It was a two-person plan.

Pyrrha nodded. "That would be nice, but what about the others? I know that combat-wise, all of us may be enough to pass the combat proficiency test, even without 'extra help' from you or Lionheart," she reasoned. "But we would definitely fail the other tests, and I'm still worried about the other aspects. School is still important, you know. With the current situation, I bet everyone would jump at the chance."

His eyebrows creased, in that cute motion that indicated that he was annoyed. "Why is that?"

"Because we're segregated," she told him frankly. His frown deepened. "To be honest, we're not making friends. Everyone who talks to us is just… looking to reach you through us."

"That's… really—"

"Weird? Yeah, I know. We don't need to make friends, but they insist on it. What if you talked to Lionheart and made us at least part-time?"

"That's doable," he acknowledged. "Okay. I'll do that. Why don't we head in, now?"

"Just a second. I need to brief you on the etiquette for everything. It's important that you show proper respect and don't accidentally offend our patrons during the dinner."

"I'm already aware of the proper Mistralian etiquette, actually. Nao explained it to me earlier today."

Nao? She'd already explained everything to him?

"Nao, the Sword of Mistral?"

"Well, yeah, she's my assistant," he explained. "She's helped me get set up here in Mistral, with the paperwork, and the Church, too. Without her, I would still be stumbling my way through everything," he laughed. "She'll be at the dinner tonight as well."

"Well, it seems like she's been a great help, then."

So he had been spending time with her for these past few days. She was the one who had helped him get strangely familiar with Mistral so fast. Nao was twenty-four and he was eighteen, that wouldn't work. But, in spite of her rationale, something unfamiliar burned in Pyrrha's chest.

"I'm also Mistralian. Why didn't you ask me?"

He scratched his neck. "Well, she was just… there, and she offered to get everything set up just like that, you know. Otherwise, I would have asked you."

"I see," Pyrrha bit her lip.

"I'll spend more time with you, I promise." He kissed her head, and she felt butterflies jump in her stomach at the action. Her face felt warm.

"Let's go inside," he started moving, but she held onto his wrist with a firm grip, stopping him.

"Hmm?" he muttered.

"Just wait for me for a minute."

-o-o-o-

The way he played was mesmerizing—his posture relaxed yet poised, his fingers moving deftly over the silver instrument. His eyes were closed, completely absorbed in the music.

The melody he played was slow and contemplative, each note lingering in the air before fading into the next. He opened his eyes, increasing the tempo ever so slightly. It was a crescendo, but it didn't feel frenzied or fast—rather, it was methodical and touching.

His white hair moved gently in the breeze, and the shadows cast by the canopy leaves danced across his features. It was the second time that she noticed his striking, amber orbs and the way his hair so delicately framed his face.

The notes soared and dipped, then soared again, echoing the complex emotions embedded within the composition. As the crescendo deepened, nature seemed to respond accordingly. He closed his eyes again, and almost like in the books, a small group of four leaves were lifted off the ground by the breeze and began whirling around, drifting. The beautiful, distinctive sound pierced the vicinity, and even the birds and crickets paused their song in favor of listening to his.

Eventually, after several minutes, the music tapered off, the final notes hanging in the air like a delicate whisper. Kalman lowered the flute.

Yang took a hesitant step forward, not wanting to startle him but, at the same time, eager to break the silence with her presence.

"That was beautiful," she said softly. Kalman turned slowly, his eyes opening to meet hers. For a brief moment, there was a flicker of surprise, quickly replaced by his usual, calm expression. But it wasn't icy or cold like before. Gone was the aloof boy she had first met, replaced by someone who seemed more friendly. Maybe it was watching him play by himself, in this vulnerable space, that had opened him up to her.

"Thank you," he replied. "I didn't realize I had an audience."

Yang smiled in spite of herself, stepping closer. "To be honest, I got lost looking for you. This place is huge, so I almost gave up. But I'm glad I didn't. That was... amazing. Do you play often?"

Kalman gave a small, appreciative nod, tucking the flute away. "I do. It's one of the few things that help me unwind. I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"I did," she paused, "We should probably head back, by the way. The others are probably wondering where we've gone."

"You're right," he said, falling into step beside her. "So I take it you've met my mother, then. What do you think of her?"

"Yeah, I did. She's… quite the character," Yang laughed a bit, scratching her head as they crossed the stone bridge. "Very welcoming and friendly."

"You could certainly say that," he nodded. "She was the one who took in my brother."

"Your brother? You have a brother? Is he older or younger than you?"

"He's younger," he answered. "You're going to meet him soon, along with the rest of your team."

"How old is he?" Yang wondered aloud, "Was he an orphan?"

"He's twelve years old now. My mother found him in an alleyway on the lower levels one year ago," the boy explained, "It was pure luck that he fell into our hands, really."

"That's good. Your mom probably takes really good care of him," Kalman let out a chuckle at her statement, "Does he go to school?"

"He goes to Sanctum Academy, now, for primary combat school—in Vale, I believe the equivalent is Signal Academy."

"Right, I see. Actually, Ruby, my sister, attended Signal Academy, but Ozpin graduated her early to Beacon because of something special she did. And then all this happened," the blonde-haired girl waved her arms around, letting out a laugh. "She's only sixteen, technically, but she'll be seventeen soon."

"What special thing did your sister do to get into Beacon?"

"Well, she kind of stopped a robbery when she was fifteen, but Percy was there too," she explained, watching his eyebrows rise up. She stifled a laugh. "So Ozpin found out and fast-tracked both of them into Beacon, and fast forward a couple of months, we're here in Mistral."

"That's… first of all, very impressive by Ruby. But also an awful coincidence."

"Trust me, I know," Yang laughed. "Lady fortune plays a role all the time when it comes to her."

He let out a small noise of amusement as they crossed yet another stone bridge. It was starting to get dark now, and the abundant greenery dappled the fading evening sunlight.

"Soo, what's he like? Your brother, I mean."

Kalman didn't answer for a moment, seemingly collecting his thoughts. "He's kind of a loner. A little emotionless, and trouble making friends, but he's getting better."

"So he's a mini-you," she joked, bumping his shoulder. "That makes perfect sense."

He looked down at her, puzzled. For a second, she thought she might have gone too far, but then his features twisted into a frown. It was kind of cute. "I am not emotionless nor am I a loner."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say, Kal~" she sing-songed, her hair bouncing on her shoulders as she skipped alongside him for a few steps.

"…Kal…?" His frown deepened, and Yang felt the incessant need to keep teasing this poor boy.

"It's my new nickname for you. Like it?"

"No."

"Too bad," she smirked.

The boy paused, then side-eyed her, "You're an insufferable dragon, you know."

"Dragon?"

"Your name, Xiao-Long, means little dragon," Kalman looked at her again, his amber-golden eyes puzzled. "You didn't know?"

"Oh, right, obviously," she looked away, scratching her neck. "I knew that, I just—well, it came out of nowhere, so—"

"You're red," he pointed out.

"Okay, shut up." The boy let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head.

She couldn't let him get away with that nickname. She needed another one. "Kal" was too friendly. What was a good nickname for him?

She still couldn't quite get a read on this boy, but he was kind of like a male Weiss when they first met, but less stuck-up and more aloof, if that made sense. A demeanor like royalty.

"Idiot prince," she blurted out.

"…Idiot… prince?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I said what I said, and I'm standing on it."

Both eyebrows went up now, and he stared at her. She stared back. He must have seen that he couldn't change her mind, and he relented. "…Okay."

As they walked back through the garden, Yang couldn't help but take in the beauty around her. The stone lanterns, the koi ponds, the delicate scent of flowers—all of it seemed even more enchanting now. The tranquility of the garden had a calming effect, making her feel more at ease with each step.

"So, your mom mentioned that Percy is here too?" she asked, breaking the comfortable silence as she transitioned to a more important topic.

"Yes. He's here to discuss things with my father," he said. "We understand the weight he carries. We understand his onus, and how people in Mistral view him. This estate is one of the few places where he can find some semblance of peace."

"Yeah. It's honestly been crazy how Percy's popularity has boomed," Yang confessed. "And this isn't a knock on him, but it's even blown back on us in school."

"Some of us Mistralians are like that," he replied simply, shaking his head. "I'm not trying to excuse them. Some people are so ambitious that they only see opportunity and fail to realize the larger picture. When they see you, they see an opportunity to form a House, or, if they already belong to a minor House, they see an opportunity to become a Great House. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

"And it totally sucks," she complained, as they finally reached the main building. "We haven't made any real friends, other than Sun's team, who we already knew. It's like we can't be anonymous anymore."

"You can't have expected to be anonymous," Kalman let out a laugh. "That's not even an option. You and your team are too involved with him for that to happen."

"That's unfortunately true," Yang agreed, as she slid open the door back to the greeting room. A sea of heads turned to lay eyes upon the two of them.

Percy was lounging on the couch like he owned the place; no one else occupied his couch. A regal-looking, middle-aged man dressed in fine silk—Lord Liu Bang, Yang guessed—was positioned opposite of him, a coffee table in the center. Team JNPR and Team RWBY were there as well as Sun Wukong, with the exception of the Ice Queen. Yang didn't know why the monkey faunus was there, but she wasn't going to ask in front of everyone.

Weiss and Apate were seated at a different table across from each other, a chessboard in the middle. They were both intently focused on the game. A brown-haired boy, Yagami, was watching, along with Yoshimoto Nao, the Sword of Mistral.

On the other side of the room, Qrow, Tai, and Oscar—the reincarnation of Ozpin—were present, sitting in armchairs. Irwys Sage was with them. They waved when Yang entered.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to finally show up to the party," Percy smirked.

"Hush," Yang snarked goodnaturedly.

"Well apparently, Weiss is really good at chess," Jaune commented. "Lady Apate offered to play shogi, mahjong, or chess, and Weiss seemed really excited to play. She's giving her a fight, that's for sure."

"Other than that, we've just been chatting," Nora added.

"I resign. Good game," Weiss shook hands with Apate. The two of them began cleaning up the board and storing the pieces away.

"I stand corrected," the boy amended. Weiss whirled on him, glaring. "You jinxed me. I missed an obvious move."

"My bad, my bad."

"Either way, I believe you all have lots of questions," everyone nodded at Percy's statement, "And this is a good place to discuss them."

"Dinner is ready," the Lady of House Han chirped happily, as she started to make her way to the exit. "Come, come! Serious talk can wait for later."

The group rose from their seats and followed Apate through the corridor, which was a series of turns. Just how big was this place? Finally, they reached the dining hall, where the rich aroma of Mistralian cuisine wafted through the air.

The dining hall was just as grand as the rest of the estate, with a long, elegantly set table awaiting them. Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a warm, inviting glow over the room. The long table was adorned with pristine white linens, fine china, and sparkling porcelain glasses filled tea. The centerpiece was a beautiful arrangement of fresh flowers, their colors complementing the elegant decor.

Apate held a radiant smile on her face. "I hope you're all hungry," she said, "We've prepared a feast fit for heroes."

As they took their seats, a parade of dishes began to arrive. There were steaming bowls of delicate miso soup, platters of perfectly rolled sushi, and an array of colorful, fresh sashimi. Braised pork belly with soy and ginger, grilled eel with a sweet glaze, and a variety of stir-fried vegetables were laid out, each dish more tempting than the last. Steamed buns filled with savory pork, dumplings with a variety of fillings, and bowls of fragrant rice completed the feast.

"This is incredible," Tai said, savoring a bite of braised pork belly. "I've never tasted anything like it."

"Absolutely," Nao agreed. "The flavors are so well-balanced. Thank you for this wonderful meal, Lady Apate."

"You're too kind," Apate replied, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. "But the real credit goes to our head chef and his wonderful team. He's truly a master of his craft."

The head chef, a tall, thin man with graying hair, stepped forward and bowed, along with his team of eight chefs, four on either side. "It is an honor to serve such distinguished guests," he said humbly.

"A toast to the head chef and his team for this wonderful dinner," Percy raised his glass. Although the table was too long for everyone to clink their glasses together in a single toast, they did succeed in clinking two or three at a time.

As the dinner finished and they transitioned to dessert, Yang surveyed the dishes they'd eaten, realizing that all of them were empty. Everyone had scraped their plate clean. She used a hand to absentmindedly rub her belly.

The waiters began to roll out dessert, which consisted of delicate matcha-flavored pastries, sweet red bean cakes, and an assortment of fresh fruits.

Lady Apate broke the silence. "You all are a hungry bunch, aren't you? Huntsmen and huntresses like you need lots of calories for all that fighting you do," she joked.

"That's right. Back in my day, we did lots of marching," Lord Liu said, with some hint of pride. "You lads need to be in shape to accompany the Emperor, eh?"

"Speaking of which, what's all this Emperor stuff about?" Jaune asked.

The man turned his gaze upon Jaune. His gaze was frigid, and Yang felt its effect even though it wasn't on her. The blond-haired boy shrunk back.

"Child, do you not know Apollyon? He is sitting at the head of our table and deserves the utmost respect. Are you desecrating his name?"

"Hey, hey, no need for that," Qrow jumped to Jaune's defense, "He was just asking a question."

"No. I will not tolerate disrespect against Apollyon, even if it comes from one of his own seraphs."

Yang looked at Percy; he was strangely silent. All around the table, people seemed to be on the edge of their seats, ready to either fight or run. The conversation was simmering.

"Now, dear," Lady Apate clasped her husband's arm, calming him somewhat. "There's no need to antagonize our guests. Some of them aren't completely aware of the status quo relating to the Church."

She turned to them, "I'm sorry about my husband. He tends to get… overdevoted, at times."

"Apologies accepted…?" Jaune replied, still nervous.

"For those of you who aren't familiar with Mistralian history," Pyrrha explained, taking the reins of the conversation, "Allow me to give a brief introduction. Lord Liu is a former Sword of Mistral, who was previously the general of the army and successfully pushed the Mongols out of the Kingdom of Mistral. He's someone undoubtedly worthy of respect."

"Thank you for that introduction, Pyrrha," he accepted, leaning back in his chair. He had resumed his original position. The tensions seemed to have calmed down a little after Pyrrha's words, and everyone appeared more relaxed.

"What does he mean by a seraph?" Jaune whispered to Percy. Everyone heard him.

"I suppose I should explain some things. Officially, Teams RWBY and JNPR are seraphs of the Church of Apollyon. The Church of Apollyon, whose religion is Apollyonism, is a recognized religion within the Kingdom of Mistral." Seeing the looks on their faces, he seemed to frown. "This church was made in my name without my knowledge; I was only aware of it when I arrived in Mistral, like all of you. I wouldn't do something like that. However," he cast a look toward Nao and Lord Liu, "I won't deny that having a resource such as the Church has been incredibly useful." Nao nodded, smiling.

"Right, we understand," Qrow said. Beside him, Oscar—or Ozpin, was deep in thought.

He continued. "Within the church, there are several ranks. From lowest to highest: enlightened, who are mainly the ordinary worshippers. Then there are prophets, who consist of a higher rank than the Enlightened, and they serve to lead processions, much like a priest. Thanes are a special kind of prophet, and that's what Sun is right now. Then, we have seraphs, which are you eight: Teams RWBY and JNPR."

"You might notice that I didn't specify what you do exactly," they nodded. "It is a title by the Church of Apollyon, but since the Church will be heavily involved in the government, seraphs will become integral parts of our administrative force. This is what I wanted to ask you all today," Percy clasped his hands together, leaning forward in his chair. Everyone listened intently.

"You have two options—well, three, really. The first one is to be a seraph in only name; you will not be involved in the government and I will make sure to relieve you of any duties so that you can focus on huntsmen school."

That sounded okay if you wanted no responsibility. But it didn't sit quite right with Yang—it would be like being a puppet.

"The second option is to be a seraph. Be involved in governmental affairs with me, and I'll talk to Lionheart about having you guys do part-time or maybe one-on-one instruction with professors."

Of course, this was a burden, but it also allowed them to have more responsibilities and work with Percy more. Ever since Beacon, they hadn't felt like a team. They weren't even a team anymore, and with each passing day, it seemed as if Percy was drifting further and further away from them.

"The third option, possibly the worst one, is to decline the seraph name entirely. This means that you would no longer be involved in the government at all. The issue of this option for me is that the blowback on you may be enormous from the enlightened in the Church. Some of it will also land on me. No one will look upon it favorably," he said solemnly. "I don't recommend this option, but if you would really like to select it, then I will do it for you."

Yang had already made up her mind not to choose the third option. Looking around the table, all of her teammates and friends seemed deep in thought.

"Oh right, Sun, I forgot about you. Everything applies to you as well. Except the seraph part."

"Can't I be a seraph?" he whined. "Why am I only a thane?"

"You're a thane for life, Thane Wukong. Cherish it."

Yang and Blake both stifled a laugh, as the monkey faunus began fake-weeping.

When everyone had turned their attention away from him, Sun stopped. His gaze returned to Kalman, as if transfixed on him. But it wasn't friendly.

"One more thing before you all decide. The Church of Apollyon has bestowed upon you all the title of "The Octagon of Seraphs." So it would be really sad if one of you chose the third option and ruined my octagon."

"That's… a really fucking cool name! I love it! I'm a seraph from this moment forward. Option two!"

"Language, Nora."

"Oh, sue me. And excuse me, it's Seraph Valkyrie now."

"I'm in as well," Pyrrha decided. "Option two for me."

Nora and Pyrrha accepted in a heartbeat, but the rest of them were still thinking. On one hand, being a seraph did entail many responsibilities, but on the other hand, who really wanted to go to school?

On a more serious note, this was a big decision for any of them. Yang chewed her lip as she thought about it, staring at the dessert in front of her. Eventually, she decided to take a bite and abandon the thinking for a bit.

"I understand this is a huge decision, which is why I will allow you the night to think about it. But I need your decision by tomorrow because everything will be officially in motion in one week," Percy explained, his hands still clasped. He looked like a politician. "My coronation and the announcement of the new bodies of government—the Secretariat, the Council, and the Chancellery, along with the seraphs and the Church of Apollyon. Please choose wisely and let me know your decision by noon tomorrow."

These were a bunch of fancy terms, but Yang got the jist of it. Percy was moving out a bunch of changes and reforms to Mistral's government, and doing it fast, which meant that they had to make their decisions fast, too.

"Thank you for the reforms that you are implementing, Lord Apollyon," Lord Liu added. "The Chancellery and the Secretariat will be effective in their roles as advising you and creating new legislation."

Percy must have arrived early and talked with the Lord of House Han about the reforms that he was creating, and evidently, the man approved.

Qrow and Tai sat with their arms folded, a neutral expression on both of their faces. They weren't pulling her or Ruby aside to talk; instead, they wanted them to make their own decisions, like real adults. Yang was grateful for that.

"I'll choose option two also, and become a seraph," Ruby declared. Her choice wasn't a surprise to Yang at all—in fact, she predicted it—and the blonde chose not to play the role of the overbearing older sister this time.

"Option two for me," Yang nodded. Was there any reason to choose option one? She wanted to feel like a real team again. School was hardly any fun, and even if being a seraph was still doing work, it was better than the ostracization they received in school. Seeming to have read her thoughts, Ruby grinned at her.

With four out of the eight having already chosen to accept Percy's offer, plus Sun, it put pressure on everyone else. Everything was a snowball effect, and people probably felt awkward for not making a decision at the table.

"I'll accept as well," Ren agreed. That made it five out of the eight, leaving Blake, Weiss, and Jaune.

"W-Wait, are you all sure that you want to leave school?" Weiss asked. "We would learn invaluable topics in school beyond combat, and that's crucial for becoming a huntress. Besides, without school, it would be near impossible to pass the huntsman proficiency test."

"That's exactly why he's suggested a part-time education rather than full-time," Ren countered. "Although I'm not aware of what 'part-time' would entail."

"Part-time means two or three days out of the five," Percy answered. "I have yet to discuss the details with Lionheart."

"I… see."

"I'll take option two," Jaune nodded. "Me too," Blake added. With everyone having joined except one person, all eyes turned to Weiss, who seemed to be the most reluctant to take part. But not joining here would be a bad look, since everyone had already agreed.

"Then I'll join your Octagon, Percy," she finally relented.

"Perfect!" he clapped his hands together. "That's one topic of discussion finalized. Moving onto the second topic: Bang, Apate, if you could…"

"Apollyon must discuss with his seraphs and Swords of Mistral an important matter, privately." Lord Liu rose out of his seat, along with Lady Apate. "Should the guests be removed as well?" he indicated toward Oscar, Qrow, and Tai. The three of them stiffened.

Percy was probably stuck between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, if he agreed to remove them, it would definitely leave a sour taste in the old man Ozpin's mouth. Everyone there knew about Salem.

On the other hand, if he declined, then the action might leave a bad impression on Lord Liu, who might feel as if he was being excluded from the situation.

"No need. They are guardians of some of my seraphs, and are aware of the situation by extension."

"Then we shall take our leave. Come, Yagami. We can go to the garden. We'll be near the guest greeting room if you need us."

No one spoke as the three left the hall—Liu Apate, Liu Bang, and Liu Yagami. Only Liu Kalman was left. The soft footfalls echoed and eventually faded. Percy's eyes were closed. Was he confirming that they were gone? Everyone held their breath, waiting for someone to say something. Minutes passed.

"Salem has an apostle ranking system," Percy broke the uncomfortable silence. "I spoke to Winter and Penny about this, and they are currently relaying it to Ironwood, which is why they aren't here right now. The rankings are Lower Apostle Four to Lower Apostle One, and Upper Apostle Four to Upper Apostle One. That's eight of them," he continued. "We should tally how many names and semblances we know because I'm almost certain that some will be here in Mistral. If we're caught off-guard, we'll be done for, along with the city."

His words spread a sense of unease that rippled throughout the audience. Yang bit her lip.

"Even I was not aware of this ranking system," Ozpin confessed.

"Raven Branwen fought Upper One. I could tell by the strength," Irwys Sage said. "Just looking at her was overwhelming. Her name is Lilith Pers. Black hair, purple eyes. Her semblance I don't know, but Branwen was vulnerable, on the ground when it happened."

"I'll ask Raven about that woman's semblance," Qrow said. "Tyrian Callows is Upper Two. The scorpion faunus, yellow eyes. Be careful of his hands; he can penetrate aura when they glow purple. Then he'll stab you with his poisonous tail. Ren knows the feeling."

Everyone looked at him. The boy shook his head, "I don't recommend it." Small chuckles echoed around the table.

"Did anyone fight Upper Three?"

"Our group also fought Upper Three, Hazel Rainart," Jaune said. "It was me, Ren, Nora, Taiyang, and Qrow. Rainart is like a hulk, a giant. He injects dust crystals into his arms to get abilities. His semblance is some sort of pain tolerance, so he doesn't feel anything when you hit him."

"Well that sounds like a pain in the ass," Nao commented. "Upper Four is Cinder Fall. Fall maiden and all that fancy stuff, her semblance is super-heating things to shape them."

"Do we know who Lower One is?" Heads shook in the negative around the table.

"So that's one candidate that may be in Mistral," Percy mused.

"My opponent during Shion was Lower Two," Pyrrha spoke frankly. "Her name was Discordia—fluorescent eyes, white hair. She was mentally crazy and had a parasitic semblance. She had Grimm tendrils that would eat through everything, including metal and aura, to replenish herself. They were harder than my shield and sword, and honestly, I barely made it out."

"Damn, Pyrrha's a quarter maiden too. Lower Two sounds like she could be Upper One," Nora joked.

"From what my sources have found out, that could definitely be true," Percy said. "The system is based on challenges between apostles and not promotions, meaning that someone in a lower rank could actually be stronger than an upper rank, but just haven't challenged them yet. So don't take the rankings as a hard indicator of strength."

"Got it, got it."

"Lower Three, anyone?" a chorus of no's.

"Lower Four, then? I think it's the last one."

"I, um." Yang steeled herself. She needed to talk, now. But she couldn't. The words died in her throat. How could she when that was her mother? Her mom? Everyone was looking at her.

"Lower Four was… a woman with a speed semblance," Blake said, jumping in. Yang thanked her silently. "She has black hair and ink-black eyes that will scorch you if you get too close, which is her main surprise. Her weapon is an axe that mecha-shifts into a rifle."

"Then that's all of them, I think," Percy summarized. "Please keep a lookout for anyone who matches the physical descriptions of the apostles."

"So, we have a partial list," Ozpin said. "Now, we need to focus on gathering more intelligence and preparing defenses. Salem's apostles surely won't hesitate to strike if they sense weakness."

"How are we supposed to gather that intel?" Nao asked. "We can't just waltz into enemy territory."

"We'll need to be strategic," Percy said. "Use every resource we have—informants, reconnaissance missions, and even public information. We'll also rely heavily on our allies in other kingdoms."

"Is it safe to assume that the Swords of Mistral will be involved?" Yang asked, glancing at Nao.

"Absolutely," Nao confirmed. "Kalman, Sage, and I—we'll all be working closely with you."

"That's reassuring," Weiss said, her tone softening. "We need all the help we can get."

"For now, let's focus on what we can control," Percy suggested. "We need to establish our roles within the new government structure and ensure that our defenses are ready. This will be a challenging time, but if we work together, we can make Mistral stronger than ever."

"Agreed," Yang said firmly. "We're in this together."

When the meeting finally adjourned, Yang felt a mix of exhaustion and determination. The weight of their responsibilities was heavy, but the bond between her team and their allies was stronger than ever. As they walked back to the main entrance, she glanced at Ruby, who wore a determined expression.

"Ready for this, sis?" Yang asked, bumping her shoulder gently.

"Absolutely," Ruby replied with a confident smile. "We've got a lot of work to do, but we'll get through it. Together."

Yang nodded, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. They were about to face one of their greatest challenges yet, but with their friends, family, and new allies by their side, she knew they stood a fighting chance.

-o-o-o-

After the meeting adjourned, Percy noticed that Kalman left in the other direction. He was like a shadow, quickly slipping around the corner and out of sight. What was he doing?

Curious, he followed him. The old-fashioned corridor was dim compared to the dining hall, with only torches lighting the way. Their flickering flames cast long shadows. The air was cool and heavy, filled with the faint scent of burning oil and the echoes of distant, muffled footsteps.

"Percy."

That quavering, quiet voice. It caused him to stop and turn around. Weiss stood a few paces away, her face half-hidden in the dim light. The golden flames illuminated her pale face, casting long, somber shadows beneath each of her eyes.

"I'm sorry. For what happened, that night."

The memory of that night was a heavy burden for both of them. He sighed, his breath visible in the cool air of the corridor.

"You're forgiven. I wasn't in the right state of mind, either."

"You mean that?"

"Yes."

Weiss hesitated for a brief second, her eyes searching his, seeking reassurance. Percy nodded gently, and she stepped forward, closing the remaining distance between them. They embraced, holding each other tightly.

As they pulled back slightly, Percy looked into Weiss's eyes and saw the glimmer of gratitude and relief—of closure. He gave her a small, reassuring smile, one that she returned, her face softening.

"Can you tell the others I'll be with them soon? I have something I need to do."

"Sure," Weiss accepted, "I'll make sure to do that." She whirled on her heel and exited the corridor.

-o-o-o-

Kalman sat on the ledge, his feet swinging freely above the serene streets of Mistral below. His arms were draped casually at his sides, the supple, silken folds of his robes swaying with the gentle breeze. The cool, moist air gently kissed the exposed skin of his neck and collarbones. While Mistral wasn't notorious for pollution, the atmosphere up here bore a distinct clarity and freshness, different from the city below. Orioles and sparrows glided across the cityscape, continuing their nocturnal journeys. He loved this spot because it was the highest vantage point here. It was the only place in the estate where he could see all of Mistral.

He didn't necessarily dislike his family, but they misunderstood him. Yes, he was nobility, and yes, he was the so-called "Prince of Mistral"—despite how he loathed the moniker, except when it came as a friendly name, like from Yang—but that title didn't prevent him from fighting. He wished they would understand that.

His father, although caring, was forever stubborn in matters regarding Kalman. The white-haired boy had inherited that aspect, too. Often they would butt heads over topics such as his education, his profession as a Sword, and of course, marriage.

That was more so on his mother's side. There was no shortage of hands extended to him for marriage proposals in the noble circles of Mistral, but he didn't find a single one of them a suitable match.

Was something wrong with him? They were all conventionally attractive, but he didn't feel any attraction. Every interaction with a potential fiance felt… dull. As ridiculous as it sounded, it was like their conversations were scripted. They always liked whatever he liked, they always laughed a little too forced, and so on. Nothing felt spontaneous or genuine. Eventually, he gave up, much to the disappointment of his family.

He pulled away from his thoughts, opting to instead continue admiring the cityscape below that expanded as far as the naked eye could see. Inevitably his gaze turned to the empyrean above, regarding the runnels and tails furrowing the sky—the shared sky of stars.

At least currently, his family was ultimately the least of his worries.

The contentious topic of discussion in the noble circles of Mistral, within his own family, and all across the kingdom was Apollyon. Previously known as Perseus Jackson, he had risen to fame after the battle of Vale, performing divine feats that captivated civilians and huntsmen alike around the world.

Naturally, when the Council of Vale hesitated to snatch him up, the Council of Mistral immediately extended a warm invitation for him to become the Emperor of Mistral. No one would object to his ascent to the throne—he was the god of the seas and sky.

The most worshiped and most important deity in the Kingdom of Mistral.

Was Perseus Jackson a reincarnation of the god of the seas and sky, or something else entirely? A false god? Even in ancient scriptures, there had never existed a name for the deity. Until now.

Apollyon. That was his name.

If he had to say his first impression… even though Apollyon was a boy just around his age, he reminded Kalman of warrior-kings, of his own father in the days of his prime. Intrinsic, all-commanding forces of nature, wildcards that could turn the tide of battle on the frontline themselves, while also retaining the eternal respect and command of their troops.

Someone that anyone could die for with a smile on their face.

To command that kind of loyalty, that kind of zealousness… it was frightening. That kind of indurate loyalty lent itself to be the target of much jealousy and hatred. And the result wasn't surprising to any Mistralian.

On multiple occasions, his father had been the target of attempted assassinations. In comparison, only once had Kalman himself been the target.

Of course, aura was a game changer for physical attacks, but there were still ways to rid oneself of political enemies. Arsenic and cyanide compounds, being odorless and tasteless, were a popular choice. Serpent elixir was often used as well, extracted from the fangs of a vicious viper. The younger the snake, the better.

The only way to detect them was a flaring of the aura; however, if the assassin expertly spread the compound thin, there was virtually no way to tell.

Atropine or belladonna was less deadly, but still fatal if ingested in large quantities. Instead, this poison was typically used to cause hallucinations.

That was the cutthroat world of Mistral.

He hoped that Pyrrha had already warned Apollyon. Kalman didn't know if the poison applied to a god, but it was entirely possible that Apollyon wasn't immune to poison. Needless to say, he was confident in Apollyon's skills. Regardless, as a Sword of Mistral, he would be a heathen not to warn him.

He heard the sound of a soft footfall, alerting him of another's presence. On instinct, his right hand flew inward into the sleeve of his robes, his fingers grazing the wrist sheath as he stood upward from his seat. However, he quickly marked who it was, and hastily withdrew the motion, lest he smite Kalman for his disrespect.

The Sword pivoted and gave him a bow, all in one motion. The emperor required at least this much.

"Pretty nice place, eh?" Apollyon's sea-green eyes flickered around the site. Even in the darkness, they were aglow.

"Your Majesty."

"There's no need for that," the sea-green-eyed man gave him a wave, showing his disinterest in Kalman's bowing. "Just call me Percy. Treat me like a friend rather than a king."

Taken aback, his mind whirled. What was Apollyon's objective? Why was he here? Had he intentionally sought an audience with Kalman?

However, the emperor was oblivious to the thoughts that ran through Kalman's mind, as he began moving forward. The white-haired boy stepped to the side, thinking that he simply wanted to view the cityscape; but then the emperor began to sit down on the ledge.

"Your Majesty," Kalman said hurriedly, "You'll dirty your robes—"

"I don't care," Apollyon interjected. A thud reached Kalman's ears as he patted the spot beside him with his left hand, where the Sword had originally been sitting. "Take a seat."

The frank response left the Sword reeling for a moment before he obliged.

"If I may, why are you here, Apollyon? Are you dissatisfied with the amount of worshipers that Mistral has converted?" he guessed. If Apollyon was discontented with the reforms that the Mistralian Council had been pushing, Kalman had to put a word in. But they couldn't go any faster than they were already without the risk of brewing more dissenters, more non-believers—

"I don't expect worship." That caused him to turn, a wide-eyed look on his face. What kind of person who presented himself as a god didn't want to be worshiped? Apollyon must have seen the look on his face.

"Surprised? I only want to speak to you one-on-one, like a normal person. Free of the religious talk."

He gave an exaggerated sigh, his shoulders dropping. "And I thought I told you to call me Percy."

"My apologies about that. I'll begin calling you Percy," he agreed. "Call me Kalman, then."

"Sure, apology accepted," Apollyon—no, Percy said easily. He was so casual like this that it was jarring, especially when compared to what Sage had told Kalman earlier about the stunt that Percy had pulled at the meeting with the Mistralian Council.

But Kalman supposed that this was how a god was, and principally Apollyon himself—the god of the wild seas and the stormy sky. Perhaps the very domain itself reflected on his unpredictable demeanor.

Examining him out of the corner of his eye, Percy looked half-Valean, half-Mistralian: the thin and sharp nose with a high nose bridge, the bronzed skin tone, the raven-black hair—all of these features were indicative of his mixed heritage.

However, these were just whimsical facial examinations. He still couldn't pinpoint the black-haired boy very well, which spoke volumes to this complex character. All noble Heir Apparents, including Kalman, had been trained from a young age in marking and reading others.

But this boy… at times, he was Apollyon, and at other times, he was someone fit to the name "Percy", and acted more like a young teenager.

What a unique personality.

"Can I ask you a question, Kalman?" The voice of the black-haired boy broke him out of his reverie.

"…Go ahead." Kalman amended his sentence.

"Do you believe in Apollyon? The Church?"

The white-haired boy had to resist the urge to turn his head. How could he ask that when Apollyon was right in front of him?

This was… unexpected, to say the least. What should he say in response? If he answered positively, then Percy might take him for a fool. If he answered negatively, Apollyon could smite him right here, given the display at Shion.

He swallowed silently. A bead of sweat trickled down the left side of his neck, away from Percy's gaze. What should he do?

No, no, he needed to calm down. Reading the atmosphere of this conversation, this was more casual. They were sitting side by side, a small gap in between them. It was a conversation between friends, or so Percy intended for it to be.

The correct response was to answer honestly. So he did.

"I neither believe nor disbelieve."

The black-haired boy didn't do so much as twitch from his spot. It was like he was frozen, and in the lingering quietude, Kalman found himself anxiously anticipating Percy's response. His heart rarely hammered during a fight—but he felt a cold sweat break out here. The striking, sea-green eyes were inscrutable in the dark.

"Neither believe nor disbelieve," he echoed, his tone contemplative. "An interesting stance, but not unwarranted."

Relief flooded through Kalman, though he masked it with a composed facade. He had expected judgment, condemnation, and perhaps even anger. But Percy's response was measured, almost understanding.

"Why?" Percy continued, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "Why not believe, or disbelieve? What holds you back?"

"To believe blindly is to surrender control," Kalman recited. "But to deny entirely is to close oneself off from possibility."

"I see," a ghost of a smile played on his lips as he nodded slowly, digesting the words. "Is that a proverb from your people?"

"No, not quite. It's a lesson from my mother," the white-haired boy elaborated. "Heir Apparents are put through much training to take over their houses, of course. It is the duty of the parents to ensure the success and proliferation of their bloodline."

"Your mother seems very caring, though. Did you have a difficult childhood due to the training?"

"Not anything special. Unremarkable, really," came the casual reply.

"There must be something," Percy insisted.

But Kalman shook his head, his white tresses wafting in the light wind. There was nothing special about him. He was just someone who had worked hard and gotten slightly lucky. That was the story of many ordinary people.

"Truly, it's unremarkable. I trained hard and was gifted with a decent semblance, which is how I worked my way up to being a Sword. That's all."

Silence hung between them as the conversation abruptly ended. But Kalman found it a comforting silence, somehow. Usually, talking to people was exhausting, but with Percy, he didn't find this the case. Eventually, another request came.

"Tell me about your people," the request hung in the air, carrying with it a sense of genuine interest and curiosity in Percy's eyes.

The white-haired boy took a moment to regard the question. "Well, we Mistralians are proud and resilient," he began, his voice tinged with a mixture of fondness and reverence. "We value honor, ability, heritage, and tradition."

He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "But we're also a diverse people, with different clans and houses each boasting their own customs and histories. Loyalty to one's house is paramount, yet there's a strong sense of unity among Mistralians when faced with external threats."

"As for Mistral itself," Kalman added, a hint of pride coloring his tone, "it's a land of breathtaking beauty, with verdant forests, crystal-clear waters, and towering mountains. We've always had a deep connection to the sea and the sky, given our kingdom's geography. I mean, it's not too far from the eastern sea, and Lake Matsu, the largest inland body of water on Remnant."

Kalman colored slightly when he realized that he had gotten carried away, and a hint of red crept onto his cheeks. "Anyway, sorry for talking a bit too much. I usually don't hold long conversations like this."

Percy chuckled, "I can tell. It's okay, I'm the one who asked for it. I'm glad you're proud of your people." He nudged the white-haired boy with his shoulder, and Kalman cracked an involuntary smile.

This entire interaction… it was something wholly new to Kalman. The only other person to draw him in like this was that Xiao-Long girl.

Most conversations felt manufactured to him, which was why he had stopped trying to talk to people. Particularly after his team's passing.

Prior to Percy's arrival in Mistral, it was mostly Nao who spoke to him, and of course, the brown-haired devil was a bantering tease, like an annoying fly that he wanted to bat away all the time.

But Xiao-Long, and now Percy, were unique. Everything felt organic.

It felt like he finally had someone to call friend.

"Well, I think it's time to head back. Otherwise, they might start getting worried," the black-haired boy gave him a left-eyed wink. Kalman found himself letting out an exhale of amusement as the two of them stood up.

"Let's go, then."

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Next Chapter: August 15th

-thann