"It's when the 'international community' expresses 'concern' about your 'situation' that your situation is well and truly fucked."
- Michael D. Weiss
"Mr. Chairman." Percy shook Wolke's hand with a plastic smile. "How can I help you?"
Wolke, standing at the doorway to his office, threw Percy a smile back, just as plastic. "Welcome, Mr. Jackson. No need to sit, you'll only be here a moment. I just wanted to deliver a message in person."
That caught Percy's attention. Wolke had asked Percy to come to his office at the capitol. Being the upstanding and legitimate Valean businessman and ally of Jacques that he was, Percy had no reason to do anything but what was asked by his chairman.
Percy hadn't had much of an idea what to expect, but he was pretty sure this wasn't it.
"And that is…?" Percy prompted, wondering what message he'd been dragged from training men in Mistral to receive.
"Let me be blunt. For obvious reasons, I'm aware of your association with organized crime and the criminal underworld, Mr. Jackson. Now I don't have a lick of evidence to prove so, and I won't pretend otherwise, which means you're one of the lucky ones. But Alfred has been removed from the council and is serving time, and at noon today Montoya will be as well. Both of the other councilmen who accepted your benefactor's offer, William-Johnson and Merryweather, are being arrested as we speak. Soon, they, too, will be behind bars. The corrupt union officials and the business leaders passing on checks are slowly being rooted out, and I have two hundred agents keeping surveillance of personal assets of yours, for the moment you step out of line. Personal addresses, associates, anything you've so much as touched will be property of the city of Vale as soon as you so much as think of using your leverage to influence its council illegally, or interfere with any of its operations."
Ah. so that's what the message was. Wolke was cracking down on organized crime — had been — and was now stepping it up a gear. He was trying to make sure Percy — who he knew had an association with the family that had united Vale's underground — would stay out of it. Why give him the warning?
Partly, Percy liked to think, because he was a relatively influential figure in Vale. Between his ownership in various businesses and success with the J&W arms company paired with his supposed friendship with Ozpin, even just counting his Vale assets Percy was not the kind of enemy someone would make on purpose. But really, it was probably mostly because Percy getting in legal trouble would not be something Jacques found to be a good thing, and Wolke was everything but bought and sold by the SDC.
"I'm curious what Jacques thought when you told him about this message you were delivering." Percy prodded, keeping the same plastic smile plastered onto his face.
"Mr. Schnee has no say in the internal affairs of Vale, Mr. Jackson." Wolke said kindly.
Ah, so they were being recorded. Useful information, even if he hadn't exactly intended to incriminate himself in Wolke's front office.
"Well, you have nothing to worry about from me, Mr. Chairman. I don't know where you got the idea that I might be involved with organized crime, but I can assure you I won't interfere with the Valean government."
Something that wasn't a lie, for once. Or at least the last bit wasn't. Vale was very useful to him, but the political power he could scrounge up meant nothing if he had Wolke and Ozpin batting against him. He could have gotten Wolke voted out of office if he'd clung onto his unions and councilmen, but it was too late for that. It wasn't worth the trouble to hang on to his dwindling political influence. So long as the actual criminal operations continued without much hassle, Percy had bigger problems to deal with at the moment.
"Let me show you to the door." Wolke offered, stepping ahead and gesturing for Percy to follow before he could respond.
Percy followed, irate, catching up to the man so they walked shoulder to shoulder. Very little convinced Percy not to go through the trouble of deposing the grating man by this point. Mostly his plan to reproach Ozpin.
"Oh!" Wolke exclaimed as they neared the exit, exaggeratedly slapping his forehead and screeching to a halt. Percy stopped with him and watched as he stepped over to a nearby table, grabbing one of the many newspapers laid out on it. "I almost forgot. Despite the unpleasant business, I do owe you an apology. You see, it seems that a location you frequent downtown is suspected of being tied up with the mob. We had to shut it down, unfortunately. Sorry for the inconvenience, but I'm just doing my job. I'm sure you understand."
Striding back over, Wolke handed Percy a copy of the paper. Tomorrow's paper, judging by the date at the top. It was warm, and Percy thought it might actually have been because of how recently the pages had been printed. While they were in the office, almost.
Percy's dyslexia made it frustrating to try to decipher the headline, but the image on the front page he could see as clear as day. Junior, back straight, shoulders squared, chin up, being escorted out of The Club in handcuffs.
Adrenaline flooded through Percy's bloodstream and his muscles coiled, his fight or flight response kicking into overdrive.
"You can't hold him." Percy said before he even realized he'd spoken.
"We can't." Wolke agreed, setting Percy's mind slightly at ease, though it didn't help the rest of him which had already received a direct injection of epinephrine. "We have no evidence. Or at most, we have circumstantial evidence. The friends I'm sure you still have in the department have made sure of that. We'll keep him in a cell for a couple days, let him off without a trial. For now. I just wanted to make my message very clear, Mr. Jackson. I'm everywhere, I know everything you have to hide, and I'm ready to take everything you own from you. This is my first demonstration. There will be a second. There may be a third. That depends on you."
Percy very much so doubted he knew everything Percy was hiding. Very much so. But the message remained all the same.
"How about we skip the second one and go right to staying out of each other's way?" Percy suggested, slowly plastering back on the smile which had fallen off when he'd been handed the newspaper. He'd give the man one more chance. A strike at Junior was something Percy would defend. Would have to. Another 'demonstration' like that, and Percy would have to reconsider his nonintervention in Valean politics before he'd even officially taken the stance.
Wolke smiled cruelly. "Oh no, Mr. Jackson. I think you need to understand just how far I'm capable of reaching."
Percy was trying to leave Wolke be, but the idiot just wouldn't let good enough be. He was trying to let it go. He could look past any amount of posturing or 'messages' or 'warnings', but if Wolke struck at something that Percy had to defend…
"That's your decision." Percy said instead. Whatever Wolke could throw at him, Percy would be ready. He wouldn't enjoy having to go through the trouble, but despite being the Chairman Wolke was not quite as powerful as he might think himself. He had a term in an office, and usurping his power was as easy as a lost election. He wasn't Jacques, or Ozpin, or even Adam, who held the dedication of a large fraction of a race of people. He was just a bureaucrat, a politician, and that would become apparent the moment the chips were down.
Wolke looked just slightly surprised at Percy's lack of reaction, but quickly moved on.
"Well Mr. Jackson. That's all. Thank you for coming to visit, do swing by some other time." Wolke smiled and left with a wave.
Despite knowing Wolke wasn't a 'player' in this game of theirs… Percy couldn't help but have a bad feeling about the plastic old man.
"Mr. Jackson." Ozpin greeted with a warm smile, and for a moment Percy was brought back to Wolke's office. "I must be mistaken, I thought our meeting was at noon."
Ozpin was too good at faking smiles, Percy decided.
"My other meeting ran short." Percy replied shortly. "May I?" he gestured to the inside of the room.
"Of course, of course." Ozpin stood and waved Percy in, gesturing for him to take a seat.
Percy nodded gratefully and stepped out of the elevator, walking up and taking a seat as he was bid. He let the breeze of the open window wash over him, refreshingly cooling on the hot summer day.
"Now Mr. Jackson, I think I have an idea as to why you're here today, but if you would…?"
"Percy is still fine." he reminded Ozpin, though he knew it'd be fruitless. He'd had to remind the old man to call him by his first name every other day when they'd been on good terms. Now, he had little hope it'd last more than a minute. "And yeah, I'm here for the reason you think. I made it clear before that I wasn't your enemy, but I know you haven't… taken my actions too well. I'm here to tell you that I'm done influencing Valean politics. I needed support for a specific reason, but… well, that problem has been solved. As promised, I haven't done anything since."
"For which you have my appreciation." Ozpin said kindly. "Is that all?" He stared at Percy expectantly.
Percy blinked. Was that all? "I mean… Yes? I guess I just wanted to ease things between us, now that you know I was telling the truth last time. Try and head towards the less tense relationship we'd had."
"In your mind, perhaps." Ozpin said mirthfully, reaching his hand to the far end of his desk and grabbing a mug of coffee, taking a sip. "What's changed since that conversation of ours, Percy? Have I… done something to offend you? Taken action to strike at you? Denied a request of yours?"
Percy's mouth opened and then closed a few times, but no sound escaped.
"I do not play such petty games, Mr. Jackson. I speak as I feel. Politics and drama are not my strong suit, I am afraid. I try to focus on more important matters."
Percy called BS.
"Well- what about your support on the council? Wolke has practically declared war on me, with the backing of everyone who isn't mine. You have to at least be giving your approval. I know you have councilmen who are yours. As much as
you might like to try and pretend, we're too similar for that."
Ozpin sighed. He almost reminded Percy of when Chrion looked particularly disappointed, though Ozpin's look was more… condescending, somehow. "Mr. Jackson, we are perhaps not as similar as you might like to think. I have nobody who is 'mine' on the council. In fact, the only individuals who I might consider 'mine' are those who work for me as employees. You may have tools, but I have only allies."
"I do what I need to." Percy's eyes narrowed. You couldn't be in a position like Ozpin's without making some difficult decisions. That Ozpin pretended he hasn't was only suspicious. "What's necessary. Sometimes, the ends do justify the means."
"And what are these ends?" Ozpin asked coyly.
Percy withheld a curse. That had… he wasn't sure he was ready to have this conversation. But maybe, just maybe, he could use this opportunity to find out if Ozpin really was Ozma.
"Let me guess," Ozpin started before Percy could respond. "Peace on Remnant? A united humanity? Maybe justice throughout the world?"
"Something like that." Percy said slowly, trying to figure out just what Ozpin was getting at.
"Have you ever considered that perhaps the reason there is not peace is because there are a million others like you? With their own ideals, all trying to vie for the most power they can get their hands on, to create their ideal world?"
"No." Percy refuted. "That isn't who causes war and injustice and division. It's sometimes people that want power, yes, but for their own ends. Not for some greater ambition. Mostly, it's competing interests."
"And who is it, Mr. Jackson, that causes these wars?" Ozpin asked. "Specifically, I mean. Individuals." he continued when Percy opened his mouth to repeat himself.
That… made him pause for a second. "Nobody specifically." Percy decided. "Nobody in specific has caused the war and strife in the world. Sure technically if the Asturias' weren't alive then this civil war wouldn't be happening, but is it fair to say it's their fault for their line not dying out? That anyone in the White Fang should just let the SDC be, or that the SDC should just let the White Fang raid their supply? I think conflict is inevitable so long as groups of people with conflicting interest exist."
"Is it, though?" Ozpin asked rhetorically. "For a hundred years Remnant has been free of war. I agree that strife is inevitable, but on the scale it's seen today?"
"Then let me ask you the same question — who causes it? Specifically. You implied people like me fighting against each other are the reason these things happen, so who is it causing all of this to happen over and over throughout history?"
Ozpin sighed deeply, and Percy was reminded of the old man's age despite the relatively youthful appearance. "It's been many throughout history. Kings, diplomats, businessmen, and nobles. Even commoners and knights rising to their ambitions. Advisors to the royalty around the world. There's one every generation who always wants more. The most recent was the King of Vale. Many paint him as the hero of the great war, but the truth is if he'd not succumbed to his greed and simply let Mistral have the disputed territory… there'd not have been such an enormous loss of life over a few islands, none of which are populated even a hundred years later. I'd thought humanity had learned its lesson — a century of relative peace — but it seems I underestimated human nature. This time, this generation, Perseus, it's you."
Percy recoiled, thoughts that Ozpin was speaking about those historical figures with a bit too much familiarity temporarily set aside. Percy fell silent for a moment as he struggled to find the words to respond.
"And… how do you figure that?" Percy said finally. "I agree that if your theory about there being one person causing conflicts throughout history is correct, then I'd be that person for this generation. I'm certainly one of the most proactive right now. But that just highlights the problem — how am I personally responsible for everything happening? How do you figure I caused all of it? I've gotten myself involved in just about all of it, sure, but it was well on its way to fireworks before I got here."
"You may think so." Ozpin granted. "And there may have been others with the motivation to cause strife, to strike against others. But consider this; Remnant has been in relative peace for almost a hundred years, since the end of the great war. Completely devoid of conflict for generations since the end of the faunus war. Remnant was not, never has been, and still is not perfect, but it was at peace. And then, you appeared in Windpath. You joined one of their petty gangs, and within weeks a city that hadn't seen war between gangs in most of a generation was filled with it. You expanded. You took one neighbor, then another, and then another. For noble goals of course — these men were evil. You wished to unite Windpath as one, in peace. And then you did. But you did not stop there. Everything you've touched, everything you've been involved with, leads to more war and strife in the name of stopping it. Every conflict we have today, greater than any we've had in many decades, if you follow the path to the beginning, leads to you. You backed the White Fang's shift to violence, and then armed them. The Vacuan monarchists were a pair of pitiable siblings in the corners of the desert until you pushed Vacuo into a civil war which may yet claim millions of lives. Vale has had higher rates of violent crime than it's ever had, and even now that your expansion is over crime rates continue to rise. Even Mantle rests on the edge of revolt. The Tammany Hall slowly exits the shadows and comes to the forefront. It's not that all you've done is bad, Perseus, but in your endeavor to create a peaceful, united Remnant, you've divided it beyond whatever could have happened without you."
"What about Mistral?" Percy spat back. "Or the villages throughout Anima who'd been left to die since the end of the Great War. Or Menagerie, whose people lived in the stone ages while everyone else prospered? And don't lecture me about Mantle living in the shadow of a domineering floating empire, or Vacuo living under the rule of corrupt bureaucrats."
"The fact remains." Ozpin's voice remaining calm in spite of Percy's rising. "You are the reason Remnant is tearing itself apart. You are the reason Atlas is facing instability, you're the reason the White Fang tears through the countryside, why thousands of lives are lost to war in Vacuo, why millions fall victim to organized crime in Vale, why the military armament of Remnant has rapidly skyrocketed for the first time in a century, why Atlas, Mistral, Vale — the world — is at the brink of being at war with itself once again. Why Remnant rests on a precarious edge, ready to fall off of it and be swallowed by the grimm threat with the slightest nudge. You may argue you did the right thing all you like, and no man can prove you wrong. But by taking it upon yourself to right all you see as wrong in the world, you've caused immense suffering, made many enemies. And should you fail, as all those who had the same high aspirations before you have? Then all of the death and destruction and lives ruined and the years of peace and progress reset was for nothing.
"Humanity will strive to become better — it always has, it always will. The misfortune of those in Mistral and on Anima and in Menagerie and Mantle is not inconsequential, but it will improve. All it needs is time. You cannot bring peace through war, Mr. Jackson."
"Did you learn that one in the Great War?" Percy mocked, observing Ozpin carefully. The way he spoke about the past — about history, like it was just a few years ago… "There's only one way to guarantee peace. Surrender. Every other option leads to war. But some things are worth fighting for, worth dying for. And some people can't be reasoned with. Some evils need to be destroyed. Some injustices need to be corrected." Instead of the inside of Ozpin's office, for a moment Percy stood in the middle of The Throne Room of the Gods, as Kronos — Luke — lay dying in his arms. Some things — some people — could not be dealt with peacefully.
"That doesn't mean every problem can be solved with violence." Percy amended quietly, remembering the peaceful titans. The ones that had been imprisoned because of the arbitrary category of race they fit into. The ones that had been imprisoned by the gods for thousands of years and had still declined Kronos' call to arms. "But it's ignorant to say that fighting is never justified. Is never the solution. On the contrary, in my experience, oftentimes the only solution is to eradicate those who wish the world harm. Anything less, and they'll be back." The Titans, the Giants — they'd both been defeated before. Maybe their return was inevitable, but the gods had been arrogant. Assuming there was no chance of immortal beings coming back, suppressing evidence of Kronos' return because they wanted to pretend everything was fine. They had tried to stave off war as long as possible, to consider it as the absolute last option. The result had been a war far worse than it should have been.
He admitted silently to himself that maybe some things could have been solved peacefully, here on Remnant. He could do some things better. But he wasn't the thinker, he was the soldier. Given everything, Percy liked to think he'd done a pretty damn good job keeping death at a low. If he was truly power hungry at any cost to human life, why weren't the Belladonnas dead? Why wasn't Menagerie being occupied by Mistral's military, why didn't he show up in Vacuo and wipe the floor with armies of men?
It didn't mean he was flawless. It didn't mean everything he'd done had been the right thing. It didn't even mean Ozpin was wrong — while Percy found it unlikely, it was possible that none of the major conflicts on Remnant would be happening without him. That he was the root cause of it all, or at least had allowed it to happen. Facilitated it.
But with some exceptions — maybe the Vacuan civil war, for one. Certainly funding both the SDC and the White Fang, for the other — the things he'd fought for had been good causes. Even the less morally sound actions he'd taken had given him the resources to be able to accomplish the others. If he hadn't been selling weapons, stealing dust, and then selling it, he'd not have had half the money necessary to improve the economy of Mistral, and hence the quality of life of its people. It was hardly luxury that the people were living in now, but it was infinitely better than it had been before. And it would only get better with time.
And what about Menagerie? He never could've opened trade to them if he didn't control Mistral, and he couldn't have rapidly developed them without an enormous amount of lien, either. He couldn't have let all those struggling businesses in Mantle avoid the extortionate tax rates when selling goods abroad, and he wouldn't have the influence on the Atlesian council to make it start getting better.
So yeah, when it came to this Percy was greedy. Sometimes he did things that had no direct positive impact — he did some things which were downright bad, too. Sienna came to mind, as did the betrayal of his friendship with Jacques. But those things were necessary to be able to do as much good as he had. He'd had to convince himself of that more than once, and he had to admit that there was some doubt in him. But nothing cemented his conviction more than hearing Ozpin try to tell him that all he'd done had been throwing Remnant to the brink of war.
If he weren't here the White Fang would still exist. Maybe they wouldn't be as large, or well armed, or Hades maybe they'd still be mostly peaceful, for a time. But they would certainly exist. They'd have accomplished less, too. Mistral, the kingdom with the largest faunus population, would have remained devoid of any equality laws. Jax and Gillian would be vying for the throne of Vacuo, and Hei Xiong would either be running a gang in Vale or have been wiped out by a competitor, who would only take his place. But if he hadn't been here nobody would have helped Menagerie. Nobody was going to free the commoners of Mistral from under the great family's boot. Nobody was going to make government spending that much more fair in Mantle, or protect any one of the hundreds of settlements on Anima from grimm attacks or bandit raids. Windpath, a glimmering jewel in Mistral's crown, with unprecedentedly quick development and growth, one of the safest cities in the world, would still be a rat-infested, crime-ridden hellhole, where every person born there would strive to either join a life of crime or leave the city the second they could, assuming they lived long enough to have such aspirations.
"Humanity, you'll find," Ozpin spoke suddenly, staring down into his coffee mug and taking a tiny sip. "Can always be reasoned with. Perhaps not an individual, but as a group humanity has the same goals. The same aspirations. Different values, perhaps, but when compared to creatures like the grimm? Humanity can always find common ground. Ways to avoid war. Even if wars are already being waged, there are ways to keep their participants from growing." Ozpin looked up from his mug to meet Percy's gaze.
Percy closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out. He got the hint. "How can we avoid war, Ozpin? What do you want to keep Vale out of the inevitable conflict between Mistral and Atlas."
"Not inevitable." Ozpin corrected, taking a deep drink from his mug. "All war is avoidable." Percy glared at the old man as he sat down his drink. Sensing his obvious impatience, Ozpine cleared his throat. "My demand is simple. Atlas, unfortunately, is likely to use many of their huntsmen as soldiers, should the worst come to pass. You may feel a temptation to wield Mistral's own huntsmen against the Atlesian forces. Do not. If you can assure me you will not use huntsmen for purposes other than defending against the grimm threat, I can assure you that Vale and its huntsmen will remain removed from the conflict."
Percy bit his lip. Losing all of their huntsmen would be a huge blow, especially given that Atlas would most certainly be using theirs.
But the alternative…
The alternative was Vale and every one of its high-quality huntsmen coming down on his head, a force which would at the very least match his own huntsmen. The alternative was war with who, after this conversation, Percy was nearly assured was Ozma. The alternative was telling Pyrrha she couldn't go to Beacon. The alternative was facing Qrow on the battlefield.
"I have a condition as well." Percy decided. "I agree not to use huntsmen in the war. But, in addition to not participating, you have to promise me the safe attendance of some students to Beacon."
Ozpin perked up. "Oh? And who would these students be?"
Percy shifted uncomfortably. "Some… wards I've picked up. Three of them. Pyrrha Nikos, Lie Ren, and Nora… Valkyrie. All three are of age, and qualified. I just… need a place for them to be away. Uninvolved. Normally I wouldn't trust anyone who knows how far leverage on me can go, but… You've been true to your word for as long as I've known you. You've known… things for some time, and never revealed anything, or threatened it. Even when it would've benefited our relationship you've strayed from crossing a line, almost to the point of irrationality. After all this time, I hope I'm making the right decision trusting you won't try to use them as leverage."
Ozpin's eyebrows had crawled a few inches higher on his forehead. "You wish to send young Miss Nikos here? I've not heard of the other two, but I look forward to making their acquaintance. They must pass the entrance exam like everyone else, but providing they do, I can assure you that the safety of all of my students is my utmost priority. Ms. Nikos and your other wards would not be an exception to the rule, should they attend Beacon. Even should you break our agreement, the worst comes to pass, and our swords cross, their safety would not come into question."
Percy processed Ozpin's words, and found that he actually believed them. He would hardly be letting Pyrrha enter Ozpin's grasp without any contingency plans for if Ozpin betrayed him — no, he'd be more than prepared on that front — but sitting there, at that moment, he decided the headmaster was being genuine.
"Then we're agreed." Percy decided, standing up. "I'll order my huntsmen to stand down in the event of an invasion, in return for Vale's non-involvement."
Ozpin joined him in standing. "Indeed, we have an agreement. Remember, Percy, all war can be avoided at the right price. The question is if you're willing to pay it."
Percy. Not Mr. Jackson or Perseus as he'd been referred to throughout the meeting, but Percy. Moral standards or not, Ozpin was still as manipulative as the worst of them.
Though he was a bit out of practice, Percy snapped his gaze to Ozpin and leveled the best wolf glare he could manage directly at him. The man took a single step back. Less of a reaction than most, but enough of one to satisfy Percy that it still had a real effect.
"I'll let Pyrrha attend Beacon, but let me make one thing very clear." Percy said, leaning forwards and lowering his voice. "If so much as a hair on her head is harmed while she is here, if your direct or indirect actions hurt her in any way, if you so much as imply she might come to harm, I will use every last ounce of influence, power, and strength that I've accrued throughout my life to bring you and every thing you care about to the ground. Pyrrha is a price I am not willing to pay. If she is placed in harm's way, I consider the life of the offender forfeit. I'll show you and the rest of Remnant just how dangerous I can be when I decide I don't care about the consequences."
Slowly dropping his glare, Percy leaned back. "I'm sure we have nothing to worry about, but I just wanted to clear up any confusion about what would happen should Pyrrha be placed in harm's way. I'll stick to our deal, Ozpin, so long as you do the same."
Ozpin let out a tired sigh as the elevator carrying the young man who he'd hoped might have become an important ally in the war against Salem whirred down the shaft. He didn't know how every generation proved to be more difficult to work with than the last.
Qrow dropped from the perch just above the windowsill, turning into his human form mid-air and landing on it. "Damn." He said immediately, burping into his hand with his usual lack of grace or care. "I haven't seen you in action like that since Rae was still around. You robbed him blind. He walked in here, was convinced not to use huntsmen in a war and to send three promising new Hunters to Beacon, and he left thinking he'd gotten the better end of the deal. You scare me sometimes, Oz."
Ozpin just hummed, used to Qrow's antics by now. Pressing a series of buttons on his desk, Ozpin's console reappeared in front of him. He adjusted his notes with a practiced ease, making sure his logs were updated to the situation, which was now looking much better. After centuries of politics, events got… muddled.
"Young Mr. Jackson is a businessman and a statesman now. He views the world through a cynical and shadowed lens. To him, everything is a transaction."
"But still." Qrow pushed off the window, unclasping the flask at his hip and upending it, letting out a frustrated grunt when the last drop poured out. "You wouldn't use huntsmen to fight other huntsmen. You know you weren't gonna do jack no matter what Percy did."
"But he didn't." Ozpin replied absentmindedly, "And the result is the lives of fewer of humanity's protectors lost. To be frank, it would have been more difficult to convince him that I wanted nothing in return for keeping Vale out of the war. He'd have suspected I was a part of a conspiracy to invade Mistral without his knowledge, I'm sure."
"Hey." Qrow frowned petulantly. "He's not crazy. Just… Been through a lot for a kid his age."
"I never inferred he was." Ozpin patiently corrected. "Simply that he sees the world through a skeptical and paranoid lens. But enough of that for now. After all, the most interesting part of that conversation was not the deal we struck."
"Yeah?" Qrow indulged him, rolling his eyes. They both knew Ozpin was just gonna tell him anyway. Why they had to do this song and dance where Ozpin revealed something Qrow had missed every damn time eluded him.
Ozpin hummed, either not noticing or ignoring Qrow's impatience. "Indeed. It is what we learned. Mr. Jackson wishes to prepare Remnant against a greater threat. The suspicions you had when you met him have been all but proven correct. One way or another, Perseus knows of Salem."
Qrow's back straightened. "Are you sure? How do you know? He didn't say anything about an existential threat other than the grimm in general."
"I spent centuries stuck in the cycle young Perseus currently resides in. The rapid scramble to unite Remnant before Salem can act. Clinging onto the hope that together we may be able to defeat her once and for all. Early on, it was out of a fear that without one strong leader Remnant would fall entirely. I acquainted myself with that fear rather well over the centuries, and I recognize it as clear as day in our young friend."
Qrow didn't look convinced. "If you're sure…"
"I am." Ozpin assured him. "But that makes your new mission no less vital. I have no idea how he could have come across such knowledge. Black Jack did not tell him, of that I am sure. It is doubtful that Leonardo or James would reveal the truth of the matter, and certainly not without informing me."
"Which just leaves one of Salem's people." Qrow finished. "No dusty book could have convinced him enough to take such drastic action. That would also explain where he came from, and his magically small sword."
"Does it?" Ozpin challenged lightly. "Does it explain where he came from? That Salem, what, has some colony of men in the Grimmlands, which she allows to learn our language and wear our clothes and take enchanted items and leave? No, it doesn't explain much at all. There remains a third option. Another person who knows of the existence of Salem."
Qrow remained silent for a moment, before pushing off Ozpin's desk and turning to the headmaster, shaking his head rapidly. "No. Nope. I refuse to believe that."
"He is in Mistral." Ozpin pointed out calmly.
"He's the one that got me the info on where Raven's tribe was in the first place. He hadn't even heard of the damn tribe when I first asked him."
"People lie, Qrow."
"Not that well." Qrow refuted. "Besides, it doesn't explain where his sword came from, or why Raven let such a powerful kid go, and without an aura to boot. It also doesn't explain what he said about his family being able to kick his ass —I know Raven's good, but she's not that good."
"Raven possesses the spring maiden." Ozpin pointed out. "Perseus could be a sibling, adopted or not. As strong as he is, he is no maiden." he shrugged, waving a hand through the air in dismissal. "It's a theory that explains more than any other potential solution, but it is still a theory. Watch him, Qrow. Find out what he knows and how he knows it."
Qrow muttered a string of curses under his breath. "I don't like it. Feels like I'm betraying the kid. But yeah, I get why you're asking me to do this. If there's something to find out, I'll find it. I'll check in on Raven while I'm at it. See if I can get to the bottom of it from her side of things."
Ozpin smiled kindly. "Thank you for understanding, Qrow."
Said huntsman grunted and adjusted the sword on his back, striding over to the single open window. "Yeah, yeah. But I want overtime for this." he said.
Before Ozpin could retort, Qrow had leapt out the window, a single black bird flying up past it moments later.
Ozpin let loose an explosive sigh of exasperation. Maybe Qrow's generation had been just as difficult to deal with.
Hey everyone! Hope you all enjoyed.
Pat-reon which is 2 chapters ahead is on my profile, and
my discord channel's unlocked now. Come swing by 3 discord .gg /elibraryThanks for the support as always 3
Next Chapter July 30