Storm didn't cause any real damage here so uploads as usual.

Cover Art: Aristeo Storm

Chapter 64

Burned out husks of buildings stood blackened and abandoned, and a thin layer of ash crunched underfoot as Qrow stepped inside. The roof had collapsed hours prior, buckling under the weight of damaged walls. Any inhabitants still inside would have been crushed, but he expected they had left long before the fires spread. The only question was whether they'd left and escaped or run into the Grimm.

There was a cold disinterest to his thoughts born not of cynicism but necessity. He'd been on numerous missions like this in his time and every huntsman had to be able to bury their emotions when the time came. Not to turn them off, that was as impossible as it was self-destructive, but to shunt them aside and swallow your horror for the hour or two it'd take to look over a destroyed settlement. Some found it easier than others. Qrow was one of the lucky ones who did, although the reasons for that was because he'd been raised in a tribe that saw death on a regular basis.

Peeling back a crooked and splintered door that had fallen off its hinges, Qrow stepped into what would have once been a living room. Some bits of furniture had survived, including the shell of a television with its glass shattered, and a single sofa, though it was burnt an ashen shade and looked liable to fall apart if anyone sat on it.

"Just like the others," he said, turning and leaving. "The fires did the most damage but there aren't any burnt bodies."

He'd have smelt them if there was. Human flesh cooked well – as horrific as that sounded – and the smell was something all too easy to pick up on. It was likely all that fat inherent in people nowadays, a life of processed foods and unhealthy diets providing a lot of fat to render as a body burned. The absence of it fit the narrative of a Grimm attack. A lot of the bodies were outside, the fires having come second.

"Why, though? One or two houses could be an accident or the Grimm spreading the flames, but all of them going up seems convenient. Unless we're dealing with a new kind of Grimm that breathes fire, this doesn't add up."

Maria balanced on her crutches in the centre of the village, having left him to explore more thoroughly. They really were hardly a single huntsman between the two of them, but there were no Grimm to worry about as it was.

"Was there any record of the huntsmen who evacuated the place starting the fires?" he asked. "Perhaps to trap the Grimm inside?"

"No." Maria had her scroll out and was flicking through the mission details. "No mention of fires at all in their reports. Course, that doesn't mean there weren't any. Might have been more focused on getting the civilians out than taking notice."

Reasonable. It was always the innocents who came first.

"The fires bothering you?" she asked.

"Just seems conspicuous is all. I doubt the inhabitants set their homes on fire, and the Grimm wouldn't see the need. A few I could accept as accidents, incidental damage, but not all of them. It's not like the houses are connected, either. There's space enough between them that a single fire wouldn't spread that far."

"Familiar with the way homes burn, are you?"

Qrow shrugged. The question came across more curious than accusatory, and so he treated it as such. "The tribe never liked causing that much devastation. Reducing villages to rubble is a good way to make sure you run out villages to exploit."

"I expect it happened anyway."

"Once or twice. The one responsible for starting it would be punished."

"How did that work?"

"Three strikes. First time, you're beaten and thrown in a cage for the night. Second time, you lose a finger – or a hand if the crime is big enough." The punishments weren't just for getting too excited and starting fires. Theft, assault, murder. There was a lot you could get away with in the tribe, but they still needed some laws. "Third time is death – though a lot would run away before that. Self-imposed banishment. Not much point returning to the tribe when you know you're about to be killed."

"I expect not." Maria scoffed. "If it weren't for direct sighting of Grimm, I'd wonder if this wasn't your old family. Or others like them."

"But Grimm were seen. And there's evidence." Torn up walls, claw marks, the like. Typical bandits didn't tend to hit fleeing civilians so hard they were ripped in half, either. Qrow hummed. "It's possible someone came back after. Could have been survivors but also could have been scavengers. Maybe they burned the place – ether to cover their tracks or to give the residents as good a cremation as they could manage."

"Not bad thinking. Though, if it were the latter, you'd think they'd have dragged the bodies together to cremate."

"Might have been afraid the Grimm would come back."

"Maybe." Maria leaned on one crutch and used the other to point at the ruined outer wall. "But that doesn't solve our main question. What the hell prompted a Grimm attack so soon, so large, and so close to Vale, that it could penetrate a place with its own security forces. This isn't some frontier outpost run by hopes and dreams. This is one of Vale's major copper deposits. It was important to the city; it was well-staffed and protected."

Not well enough. "Could be a migration."

"And we've seen and heard nothing of a migration? Try again, brat."

Migrations did tend to be noticeable, often viewed like natural disasters of their own. So many Grimm marching together would kick up huge plumes of dust and trample swathes of forest. There was nothing to suggest that here. The trees a distance from the walls were all in one piece, and while bushes and such had been crushed by the sudden assault there wasn't a whole lot of torn-up ground.

"Feels surgical."

"Aye," she said. "That's a good way of putting it. Feels planned. Feels intentional. There are a whole host of villages like this that would have made for quicker and easier targets, yet enough Grimm to be seen from a good distance away chose this place – and they would have had to navigate past other villages to get here."

So, the question was who and why. Salem? Almost certainly, for all that he wasn't supposed to know it. "Why would someone direct Grimm to attack a village?" he asked, mostly because he was meant to be ignorant. "Did they want to steal the copper? Seems a lot of work for such a small pay out. Unless their aim was to destabilise Vale itself."

"That's likely it. As you said, copper isn't worth stealing. Too heavy. Not valuable enough. But it's value in terms of how much it can damage Vale is far higher."

"You don't think this is a reprisal from Atlas, do you?"

"No." Maria cut that off with a laugh. "Keep in mind we're here today but this happened before you and yours caused this current issue. Not to mention smuggling Grimm here would require even more time. Whatever – and whomever – planned this, they started it over a week ago. Probably more."

"Could it be that person who attacked you? Tock? Maybe she wasn't working alone."

Maria seemed pleased by his answer. Was she – and by extension Ozpin – trying to lead Qrow to figuring out Salem on his own? That would be amusing if so. Ozpin always had been the kind of person who preferred to show people why they should be loyal first and then reveal the truth after. Or it might be a test to see if he could figure it out.

"Now you're thinking straight, brat. An attack on me a little over a week ago, and this, both happening in roughly similar areas. It would have been difficult to predict my movements and lay an ambush, and Tock wouldn't have done that so close to Beacon's training exercise either. What does that all mean, hm?"

"That she didn't plan to ambush you but was instead reacting to your presence."

"Exactly. That bitch wasn't there planning to kill me; she was there because she was worried a huntress like me would stumble on something I wasn't supposed to."

So, Salem really had been active while he and the others were living life in Beacon. It made sense. It wasn't like she would do nothing with her time until Cinder brought down Beacon. Salem was always active and would always have psychopaths loyal to her. While he and Team STRQ had been living their good life, others had been fighting to protect them.

More to the fall of Mountain Glenn than just that research facility, then. As I thought. I wonder if Salem has spies in Atlas. If they're aware of the facility, they could have fed Grimm with instructions to Atlas, ready to break out and coincide an attack with a force of Grimm from outside the walls.

The Grimm inside cause chaos and slow response times, while the Grimm outside break in – causing a complete collapse of Mountain Glenn. It was a good plan. As for how this copper mine played into it, that was less certain.

"What is the copper used for?"

"Electronics."

"I know that. But what types of electronics would hit Vale the hardest?"

"Any right now," she said. "With Mountain Glenn finally up and running, the city has practically doubled its resource needs. That's a whole second city that needs stocking with everything from televisions and toasters to MRI machines and heating."

"And wall-mounted weaponry? Anti-Grimm defences?"

"Those are already established. You wouldn't build a city first and leave defences as an afterthought… but…" Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. "We would need fresh electronics for missiles and the like, and to keep systems updated. There's demand all over and when people are crying for better internet and more equipment for hospitals, it's easy for those in charge to think it better to give into their demands at the expense of defences."

"Especially since Mountain Glenn hasn't once come under attack," Qrow finished. "So, they cut back on unnecessary defences and funnel the limited supply of electronics to the private and public sector. Sounds like a recipe for disaster to me."

"Me too. I'll inform Ozpin. See what can be done." Maria nodded past him, toward the main feature of Baxterville. "You check the mine. Shouldn't be any Grimm inside but back out if there are. I want to know if any copper has been taken or even if it's been sabotaged in some way. If someone did want to close this place down, they'd blow the tunnels and make opening this place up again as expensive as possible."

Qrow nodded and moved toward the mine.

/-/

"That's the long and short of it, Ozpin."

"I see." Ozpin reclined in his seat and massaged his temples. The day had already been rough and was shaping up to be worse. "Mr Branwen has been worried about Mountain Glenn since he came here. I'll admit his paranoia is beginning to affect me as well."

"I'd call it unfounded if my life hadn't almost ended less than a week ago. She's active, Ozpin. Active in Vale. Maybe it isn't Mountain Glenn she's after, but she wouldn't have her people here for the sake of it."

"I know. Something is planned here – and Mountain Glenn would be a devastating blow for humanity. I am working on worst-case assumptions, Maria. Please don't think otherwise."

"Like the kid, then. He's oddly calm here."

"Unaffected by the bodies?"

"I wouldn't say that. He glances, occasionally, but then he forces himself to look away. Professional, I'd say. I'll take him for a drink later. Got the feeling he'll need one. He told me a little of his past, enough to know he's seen bodies before."

Ozpin hummed. He'd been tempted to hunt down the old tribe they'd been in and deal with them, arresting those that couldn't be redeemed and giving chances to others. This business with Mountain Glenn and now Salem and her agents involving themselves had stolen away his free time, however. So much to do and so little time to do it.

Suspicions of Qrow being a spy were long gone now. They'd been unlikely at first anyway, but now that they had confirmation Salem was active, Qrow's constant fears about Mountain Glenn were founded. And if he were a spy, he certainly wouldn't have spent so much time alerting Ozpin to the danger.

"I'll see about wringing some copper from Atlas – they owe us an apology for the current debacle. I'll make sure it goes to the defence budget as well, no matter how hungry the private sector may be."

"Good. How have Atlas been, anyway? Pissed?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." Ozpin reached for the kettle he'd set on his desk. It was lukewarm but he couldn't find the energy to wait two minutes for the water to heat up and poured. An unhealthy amount of instant coffee found its way into the mug, and he drank the bitter concoction. "It's been a while since my patience has been stretched so thin. They came fists swinging, as expected, full of accusations against my students. Cornered them into interrogations disguised as interviews before I could react."

"Headmaster buckled, didn't he?"

"Instantly."

"He's a coward, Oz."

"He's old," Ozpin argued. It wasn't fair to speak of the man that way. He'd been driven and courageous once, but morality came for all men – most, anyway – and looming death changed a person. "He doesn't have the fire he once did. Luckily, it seems the next generation does as they pushed back quite nicely against Atlas. Though Miss Branwen attacking an officer was less than ideal."

"Sheesh. Both these kids are messed up."

"They're spirited, I'll give you that."

Ozpin still found himself amused at the bleeding nose of the officer, and the demands he'd tried to make to have Raven expelled. Ozpin had stepped in quite firmly there. The rest had handled it better, with Miss Schnee being especially useful thanks to training he could only assume came from her father. She had skewered the people interviewing her and wouldn't let them change the subject away from the damage they'd caused a close friend of hers. The not-so-veiled threats to have her father involved had certainly lit a fire under them. They'd instead focused on the others, who either didn't have influential parents or didn't have parents at all.

Atlas wasn't evil, that Ozpin knew that, but they were a government bureaucracy and that often meant they came across as evil. The very nature of such organisations was that they took expedient options and worked to protect the reputation of the whole. At times, the actions they took were nothing short of monstrous. Vale was no better, the current mistreatment of the faunus and the arrest of Ghira Belladonna serving as proof of that.

If Atlas had their way, they'd frame Mr Branwen as a criminal and lay this all at his feet – because what was the reputation and life of one orphaned child compared to the safety and stability of an entire kingdom? Their mantra of "Atlas first" inevitably meant that truth, justice and fairness would always come as secondary concerns.

"They're quite upset that Mr Branwen isn't here, but I explained he was badly shaken and potentially traumatised by his encounter with the Apathy, and that I sent him out with you to clear his head and regain his nerve."

Such wasn't unprecedented. While it didn't always happen, and not always because of Apathy, there were many reasons a student might suddenly be hit by a crisis of confidence. Loss of a teammate, of a limb, or a close brush with death. All could shake someone to consider quitting the program entirely.

While the choice was ultimately theirs, it would have been poor form for the teachers to not try and help. Sometimes all a student needed was a chance to remind themselves they weren't weak. Taking them out to kill Grimm could bring their confidence back. Or, more cynically, taking them out to see a ruined village like this one could show that people needed them – or that their perceived weakness was still strong compared to the average civilian.

Atlas couldn't really argue Qrow didn't need this. Apathy were infamous for the long-term effects they could have on a huntsman, and these Apathy had touched a student because of Atlas' own actions.

"I'll tell him to practice his crocodile tears, shall I?"

"Nothing so dramatic but if you could inform him then please do so. Keep him out for at least another night as well. The Council are breathing down Atlas' throat and I'd like them to sweat a little more."

"Really? Vale usually bends over back for Atlas. I'm surprised they dare."

"The success of Mountain Glenn has our politicians feeling untouchable. They have never polled higher and are perhaps letting their egos get the best of them. Not that it isn't working in our favour here."

He was happy to let them have their moments, too. Mountain Glenn was a success. In the future, in generations to come, it might become akin to a fifth kingdom. That would mean even more applicants for the academies, more huntsmen, and a stronger Remnant to face off against Salem. If every other kingdom could see Mountain Glenn and use it as a template, they might build their own ancillary cities.

Reason enough for Salem to want to put a stop to it.

"As long as it works in our favour, I guess. You sure Atlas won't be an issue?"

"I'm certain they will be one, especially for me and Vale as a whole, but I won't be letting them pressure any of my students. Investigate the village further. Stay at a nearby village if you can. I can't guarantee Atlas won't have people watching for his return."

"Roger that."

/-/

The entrance to the mineshaft was curiously clean. No one had run there to try and hide, it seemed. They knew it was no salvation better than anyone. As a result of that, the Grimm had also ignored it, chasing the humans. Mine carts and equipment lay propped up against walls – a few picks, but most of it more industrial drilling machinery. The picks looked unused and were presumably meant for more delicate work.

Wooden beams at regular intervals kept the tunnel supported, and dust lanterns had been linked with wires between each set of struts. Those were still active, lighting the way down to a central, wider area and then off down three different shafts. Signage had been set up dictating the roues as A, B and C.

Shafts B and C were blocked with rubble and fallen rocks, but they couldn't have been before if the signs pointed those ways. Maria had been right; someone had come down here and closed the shafts and given the amount of effort involved that would have been after the Grimm had come and gone. There would have been no reason for the villagers to do it themselves.

"Why not shaft A, though?" he wondered, picking his way that direction. "Unless it was meant to and it didn't collapse…"

That thought had him pausing at the entranceway to it. If it fell now, he might be crushed or, worse, trapped within. With Maria outside, he'd have someone to call for help and excavate him, but it'd still be an awful experience.

"You better not screw with me now, Semblance…"

The first few steps were the hardest. The lights were still on and the supports looked to be holding firm. With none broken, there should have been no risk of a collapse. As he made his way down, Qrow found his confidence returning. The shaft was practically untouched. When he reached the end of it, where the rockface was pocked and marked with fresh mining, he found why.

Wooden barrels had been stacked up at the rockface, the tops open and sparkling dust crystals visible. There were wires sticking out of it, clearly marking it as an explosive device. Qrow approached carefully, but if it hadn't gone off in the hours since it had been placed then it wasn't about to now. In fact, it looked like it had never been activated at all.

"It's definitely sabotage then. Some kind of malfunction, or did the Grimm come back and the ones responsible had to run? Or maybe it was us they heard…"

That wasn't quite as worrying as the symbols on the barrel.

The three claw marks of the White Fang.

"I thought I told you not to mess my day up," he said to his Semblance, running his good hand over his face. "But why would the White Fang do this—? No. No, it doesn't make any sense at all. Kali and Ghira are still peaceful, and they shouldn't turn violent for a couple of years yet. At least until Jacques takes over the SDC and starts exploiting faunus labour."

This stank. The White Fang had used Grimm on Beacon in the future, but that was with Cinder's assistance. And it was a different White Fang. There was just no way they would be able to lead Grimm here in numbers sufficient enough to breach the wall, then have the confidence to come in after and set explosives.

And if they had, they'd have blown all three tunnels.

The White Fang had never been truly incompetent. Not to the point they couldn't plant a bomb. And especially not to the degree that they'd stamp their own explosives with their logo. What was the point? If they wanted to send a message, they should have done so outside the mine. If this bomb went off, there'd be no evidence of the emblem left.

It's a trick, he realised. Someone is trying to frame them. Make it look like this was caused by the faunus, and that the last tunnel didn't close. They wanted us to come here, find this, take it back to Vale and see the White Fang take the heat.

The reason why was obvious with the future context he had. The White Fang would in time become invaluable allies for Salem, though they knew it not, and that was in no small part because the kingdoms had backed the once-peaceful group into a corner.

Drawing his knife, Qrow knelt and held it in a reverse grip, and with his one good arm started scraping at the emblem. The wood was soft under the tempered steel and it didn't take him long to scratch over the logo again and again, leaving behind the softer pine under the lacquered barrel's finish. He moved to another, scratching them one by one until there was no evidence of what Salem's forces wanted to imply.

Then, once he was satisfied nothing would link this to the faunus, he sheathed his weapon and took several photos on his scroll. Evidence enough for Maria and Ozpin. Someone had come here to set the bombs and cut off Vale's supplies, but they'd also wanted to frame the faunus. If Salem could both achieve the fall of Mountain Glenn and a complete breakdown in trust between humans and faunus, that would be twice the victory.

And she achieved it in our time. No one blamed the White Fang for Mountain Glenn, but the violent terrorism had to start somewhere. What if the very first terrorist attack by the White Fang wasn't by them at all…? What if they were blamed for it, and the extremists within their group simply used that as an excuse to keep going. Claimed the credit for themselves and leant into it?

He'd always thought Salem had been quiet during his time. Now, he was beginning to realise just how wrong he was. Salem hadn't been quiet, she'd been winning, and her actions in his era had set the scene for the fall of Beacon in his nieces' time.

Next Chapter: 1st February

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