Ironwood never stopped coming in and out of his own office. The calls for aid were being put out but Vale and Vacuo would take time before they could ever arrive. While he did give out a token effort to Mistral, James had no faith in Leo's response. That secret betrayal had stung him harder than anyone else. Leo not only colluded with Salem, likely fed her the information that was shared among Ozpin's circle, but he had deliberately compromised Mistral's own huntsmen situation that they could not afford to send aid. Ironwood would have demanded that Leo step down as headmaster but Ozpin himself allowed him to remain as one last act of kindness. They needed a front of unity against a Salem that went public.
The other reason had been Raven and Vlad themselves. Their colluding with Salem had called into question the moral alliance of Haven's students and graduates, both he and Ozpin had to step in just to keep the peace and that the transfers from Haven are not to be harassed nor blamed and put into some kind of witch trial because of this.
Jacques Schnee insisted on the continuing the election cycle. Robyn Hill was already lagging behind and her lack of an appearance, for good reason, was something that Jacques fully intended to use. The only relief that Ironwood received was that everyone was too busy to follow and cared more for the fact that Robyn was on the ground while Jacques had his family issues that are now being aired all over the news. Try as he might, Jacques could not hide away the fact that the White Fang had successfully infiltrated his home, nearly killed his son, and Winter's own actions were eventually brought out when Jekyll had been forced to admit his identity as mister Utterson.
In and out of meetings he went. Approved and denied were the plans and stratagems that were placed before him. All the while, a black line slowly grew larger and crept closer upon Mantle like a slowly rising tide. Grimm were gathering around Atlas and the people of Mantle were especially terrified. Ironwood was doing what he can to keep the peace and the calm down there and entrusting most of it to Robyn who gladly worked with Atlas military, putting aside her own personal grievances.
In public, Ozpin had to defer to Ironwood for instructions. But in private, it was James that needed the man's help. However, this was a difficult situation even for Ozpin himself. Salem had accepted to playing into this shadow war. Never did she act so openly and so brazenly that her appearance back at the opera house still caught him off-guard.
Speaking of the opera house, Nitocris had mentioned that there was some kind of bounded field that had been placed. Salem must have learned much of Earth's magecraft just as they were figuring out from their own Servants. Nitocris had been trying to decipher and find some means of getting past it. But Salem's bounded field prevented anyone from passing in and out of it; Ironwood suspected that that was the main base of the Phantom and one where he would enact whatever schemes he had.
As it stands, the opera house was off-limits. He didn't to enforce it since anyone that wasn't permitted to pass would suffer electrifying pains. Even one of Beacon's transfer students, Nora Valkyrie, whose semblance involved electricity, didn't get any sort of immunity from it. No. The electricity was merely the pain of the field's defense mechanisms.
Not even Nitocris' scarabs were able to bypass it. Ironwood was left with an incomplete set of maps and could no longer expand further. There hadn't been any expansion either since their digging into the opera house didn't yield any difference of distance; a fixed stopping point was had that Ironwood could conclude that the opera house would not expand any further.
The students were kept in reserves. It pained Ironwood to rely on the transfers but the Atlas students all knew what to do for they had been trained in the ways of the soldier. They were given temporary command of the transfers to ensure a smoother process of the chain of command. Their corresponding team leaders were still in full control of their respective teams.
As for the Servants, only one Servant was down there in Mantle: Fran as Ozpin calls her. She was never away from Ozpin's side and would always be seen with Ozpin as though she were the deputy headmistress or second-in-command. Jekyll himself was occupied with family matters if he wasn't trying to figure out a way of this "return to proper form" as he said. Jack was with Winter and truly gave meaning of the Assassin class as she was scouting and finding any means possible to locate Phantom who was still at large somewhere in Atlas; that one didn't leave with Salem and the rest.
The final Servant was there sitting at his desk looking just as haggard as he was. Nitocris had stepped up to be his deputy in Winter's absence. Winter's mastery of the Maiden powers took priority over everything else with her main mission being to locate the Phantom, if only for her sister's safety. Winter may not be the stealthiest of individuals nor was she capable of hiding her presence in the public as well as her daughter, but she does have a better combat chance and having two against one might as well be the advantage that Ironwood could take.
But Nitocris? Her scarabs could only reach so far. Paperwork that would have stacked like towers never formed as she went through them. She claimed to be this Pharaoh, a leader of sorts of her homeland. Though her rule had been short, by her own admission, she still has experience of running a kingdom. With Ozpin out there in the field, Ironwood had to rely on someone else to do it but kept her identity out of it; he'll answer for this someday but it will not be this day.
Nitocris was approving and disapproving so many documents and was making her own reports for him to go through. With the powers of these Servants, Ironwood would rather have Nitocris out there, reinforcing Mantle's defenses. But if he did that, he would be the one doing all this work and be slowed by a huge margin and Atlas would be slow to react by the time the Grimm make it to Mantle's borders.
By the time that Ironwood had entered that office, Nitocris had mastered his signature and needed a pair of glasses with how she was squinting at the slightest bit of text on the document. All of it was blurring her eyesight. She was too into her work that she failed to notice Ironwood entering the room. Not even the lazy slamming of the doors did anything even when the documents fell from the desk.
When she finally did after forcing herself for a little break, she did it on instinct. She made sure that Ironwood wasn't using his semblance out of nowhere with how he was getting too focused on the task at hand, a simple means of draining his aura to zero which meant that he couldn't use his semblance. Even passive semblances needed aura to activate. Empty the reserves and passive semblances fail to be used. The tradeoff is that passive semblances result in slower regeneration since they didn't need the user's direct input. Ironwood's is somewhere in between, needing deliberate choice to use but remains in use until the aura is drained or upon the accomplishment of his task.
Ironwood was on the floor, on one knee with his metal fist failing to keep him standing. The exhaustion of having to go from place to place in so quick succession and with little arrangements and constantly having to address questions while making plans and balancing everything else would take its toll on any individual eventually. Only through Mettle, his semblance, did he do it to this scale. Even then, Mettle had begun to fail him at the end there.
His vision was blurring and he could barely hear. He struggled to breathe and so he remained on the ground. He felt something lift him up and was put back down on a chair and reclined back. There was a light in his eye but he couldn't make it out what it was. He felt a breeze on his person. There was a scent that filled his nose.
Eventually, his vision cleared again and he could see that the light had been from a scroll. It was doctor Jekyll. When did he enter the room? Ironwood could only barely move his own head and could only see the worried faces of Winter from the corner of his eye. Jack had been the one holding the scent, those oils used for ointments.
"How long has the general been like this?" Winter asked Nitocris.
"Who? What?" Nitocris was in similar conditions. She was looking at her hands, wondering if she still had them.
"Good lord," Jekyll commented. "I understand that work could get hectic now but I didn't expect that it would affect a Servant to this extent!" Or was it Hyde? That was too much emotion for the usually reserved doctor.
Nitocris massaged her head. She also covered her ears. "Too loud… you people are too loud."
Ironwood slowly sat properly. He didn't move his head too quickly because the slightest one blurred his vision again. He focused on his breathing. He felt the room get a little cooler. Winter's eyes glowed the fires of the Maiden. There were breezes everywhere.
"It's too fast, Winter," Jekyll said. "Slow it down."
Winter complied and eventually Ironwood returned to his senses. He asked Jack: "how goes the search?"
Jack shook her head. "Too hard to find. Too good at hiding. But he wants to get auntie Weiss or mister Jaune, sir!"
"We cannot even eliminate one Servant." Ironwood supported his chin with his hands. Jack was there, always ready to catch him when he nearly stumbled. His eyes turned to Jekyll. "And this research of yours?"
"Peach and I are going through the final revisions," he answered. "We intend to ask Pietro to be the final opinion to see if there is anything we missed. From there, Peach and I would be making the schematics and the plans."
"I've already taken the precautions necessary, sir." Winter saluted. "This process will be as smooth as we are able and I have allocated the time and resources for this endeavor."
Finally, some good news and progress. Ironwood wasn't sure how helpful Hyde's real form was going to be, but if it means a stronger fighter, he'll take it. It would have been better if they could at least deal with one Servant before that to press their advantage but he wasn't about to be picky.
Nitocris managed to recover enough to return to her senses. "Are you certain that it will work?"
"I'm also planning on asking Clover to accompany me on this endeavor." Jekyll didn't sound confident. "I'd feel better if we could manipulate a little luck on our side."
"And this makes you more confident? Even if it did work, you must recall that our enemy is also Vlad who has similar enough circumstances to yours."
"I feel that having a semblance be about luck raises more questions than even our own existence, Nitocris. Semblances are meant to be physical manifestation of the soul, what does that say about those whose semblances involve the metaphysical element of luck?"
"Would it help you that with Ozpin and Salem's identities," said Ironwood. He was getting a little better, but he was certainly in need of energy. A biscuit would be nice. "It would be more accurate to say that semblances are merely… well, a semblance of Remnant's magical abilities?"
Jekyll pointed at Ironwood. "That right there is why I'm bringing Clover along. If he could willfully manipulate the luck around him, I would definitely use it for this instance. He's been practicing that during his downtime. He and Qrow actually; if Qrow could do the opposite, we could send him over to the enemy and trip them up in any shape or form."
The two Servants engaged in this verbal back-and-forth for many more hours before Jekyll was forced to leave. The truth of the matter, and Ironwood can clearly see it, was that Nitocris needed a break and a vent. Jekyll must have noticed it and played along; he needed someone to push him back and address a possible weakness of his initial plan. Only time had forced him to leave and by the looks of it, Jekyll found those weaknesses of his research that he needed to address. How he was trying to accomplish that in the span of a few weeks is beyond anyone; not even Pietro could research something in so short a time.
The Schnee-Jekyll family left, or was it just Jekyll family now? Ironwood wasn't sure about that. They left the two alone and Nitocris' dread appeared on her face. The sheer amount of paper work that needed to be done was too much.
Ironwood stood up. "Go and oversee the defenses," he commanded. "These ones are mine."
"I can do more," Nitocris insisted. "Those people out there need to see their general."
"I know you can. But you are a Servant. There is more use for you there in the defenses. I believe you could reinforce the walls and provide advice for many huntsmen should they ever encounter Vlad in the battlefield. You said it yourself that Vlad is the bigger threat over Phantom, even if he is unwilling."
Nitocris looked like she would protest further but ultimately bowed in obedience. But before she left the doorway, she said to him: "Do not think of taking this burden on your own, general."
"Is that your way of saying you care? I was never alone to begin with, Nitocris. Perhaps you should try again."
She puffed her cheeks and left; she could have chosen better sets of words there but Ironwood shook his head at the gesture. She was a good woman and a caring one. But she does sometimes deny her own self for one reason or another. Perhaps it has something to do with her own personal history.
Ironwood looked over all the files. He could trust that Nitocris made the best decision she felt best in dealing with Vlad. She treated the Grimm as though they were human enemies with unnaturally long stamina and reserves at their disposal. He didn't need to reject that many files; it would be absolutely horrid if anyone would try to get ahead in a time like this.
His eyebrows furrowed. He'll have to check them anyway.
Daylight was burning into the night. Ozpin would be out there taking the night watch and headed much of the huntsmen. It was an agreement between them and one that Ironwood could easily entrust.
Nitocris soon returned from her duties after she had enforced much of Mantle's walls. Stretching those legs of hers did her good and Ironwood timed his work well. Night was falling and Ironwood needed to rest. But he didn't have it in him to even shower or change his clothes.
/-/
To be on the ground was a refreshing experience for Ozpin; it was the only positive thing that he can draw from right now. For many lifetimes, he had taken the backseat, letting others do their own thing while being guided by him. Part of that reason was that Ozpin's movements was predictable. But Salem couldn't always predict the movements of his people, thusly he only gave them a goal but left the method to them. It doesn't always work and Salem simply has to figure out his goal at any given time.
Still, being on the ground again meant that he was the one moving about. The Happy Huntresses were the biggest movers in this instance as they went back and forth and back again just to keep Mantle under control. Robyn Hill was doing an admirable job and Ozpin would only occasionally offer some advice and help if it meant easing her burden.
But that wasn't his main objective while out here. Ozpin wasn't lying when he said that he would defer to James when it came to Atlas matters. He had neither the authority nor the dedication to oversee all of Atlas' affairs. For all he knew, Atlas had changed a few things that he didn't notice in his past lives and thusly couldn't act as if he knew them. If he did, it would raise suspicion as to how a headmaster from Vale have intimate knowledge of Atlas' affairs, or would it be more for Mantle?
The Grimm were being called back, gathering together as a whole army. Ozpin looked above him. The floating city of Atlas is a liability just as much as it was an asset to them. On one hand, it is a sign of Remnant's humanity pursuing to do the impossible and touch the skies. On the other, if anything were to happen to that floating piece of rock, Mantle would fall along with it, destroying everything and everyone that lived on and under it. Ozpin made a mental note to suggest to Robyn that they should expand Mantle or have Atlas move to some other location. If not, at least have them prepare some kind of safety measure to ensure that Atlas would remain floating. How that was going to happen was beyond himself and Ozpin was sure that none of the Servants have any idea or means of executing that one. If they did, he'd have to wonder why they still referred to themselves as Servants, as in people who serve.
He was out there on the outposts in this cold night. Stray Grimm would occasionally appear from off-roads that Ozpin would swiftly deal with them and return to his original spot without much effort. But in moments like these, it wasn't he that was moving but Fran. That Servant of his moved with vigor and chased after the stray Grimm when they ignored her and went for the weakest target that was whoever delivered the supplies to the other outposts.
The motions of him moving about the battlefield brought memories of those adventurous days. Even the cold, lonely nights brought about a warmth in that small smile of his. The cold dark of night that would be his only companion as he sought adventure and glory. Each place he went, he would fight off monsters and all sorts of evildoers just because he could.
Then, there came that tower. That had been the first time that he had ever found a challenge and one worth it all. A painful pang hit his heart. That had been the time he found himself wanting to settle down and live the simple and domestic life, to sit down by the bench outside of his home, smoking rings with a pipe while he enjoyed a nice drink or food. He imagined the children running and playing while he would tell them of the stories of his glorious past.
For a while, that may have been possible. But toiling away in battle and adventure meant that he was exposed to all sorts of things. Poisons, curses, and other things that have damaged his body beyond repair. Each one being so slow and so little that he never noticed until it all piled up together in the end when it was too late.
At the time, he simply accepted his fate, thinking that everything would be alright, that he and Salem would one day come together in that afterlife. But that never happened. Salem sought to bring him back and when that had been denied, well… a lot of things that made Remnant into what it is today could be traced back to them.
Fran poked his cheek repeatedly, getting his attention. She tilted her head as she stared into Ozpin's face. He wore an expression on it, didn't he?
He sighed. "I don't suppose you wish to hear the ramblings of an old man do you, Fran?"
Fran looked around her and then looked at her wrist as though she had a watch there. She shrugged. "Plenty time."
Seeing that patience, Ozpin half-wondered if Fran really was a child. His only comparison was Jack the Ripper and she had her own history of sorts. Maybe it was just a thing for Servants. He stopped questioning it a long time ago, if he ever did.
So, Ozpin told the tale of himself and of Salem. Not the one that was passed down in history, but as he remembered it. Dreams of glory and their prices paid.
"Now that I tell you all about it," he said. He was realizing a few things from his retelling. "I suppose I did pity her. Having spent all that time in the tower, trapped and alone, I couldn't think of anything but to try giving her everything. Spoil her as if I had the responsibility of making up all of her past sufferings. I failed to help her grow past it and learn to let go. In doing so, I made her attach herself to me, the source of everything that was ever good that ever happened to her. But following the will of the Brother gods meant that I would have to oppose her; she must have seen it as the biggest betrayal she ever felt."
Fran made noises as she shook her head.
"No? You're saying it isn't my fault?"
Fran nodded.
Ozpin looked down. "Maybe it does not. But it doesn't change that it is what happened. It may not have been my responsibility, but there were things that I could have done better."
Fran held Ozpin in tight embrace. "Pa… pa…"
Once again, Ozpin froze in place. But this time, he smiled. Beyond the night lie promises of light. Many times he had been remade into a new body. But is the really the first time that Ozma was remade?
"When we face Salem together, Fran," said Ozpin. "Will you let me accept the blame? Damn the man who does not give his all to help his wife to grieve? Forgive this foolish… father. He's still hoping to bring this family together."
Fran's smile remained chaste. She nodded. "Give sight. On time."
With each passing second, Fran was getting better with her conversation. Ozpin could see that on her face; she was trying so hard and Ozpin couldn't help but be proud of it.
"Go to sleep," Fran said. She pointed to herself. "Safe with me. Soon will follow."
Ozpin was soon relieved of his duty. With the coming of the dawn, there comes another day.
/-/
Salem's fist tightened that her fingers pierced through the Grimm skin. That sight of Ozma's Servant, whom he called Fran and whom he protected from her, gave her bitter memories. The way that arm of his moved to protect her was the exact same way that he moved to protect her daughters, their daughters.
Though Servants were more powerful, even more powerful than both she and Ozma would have been at their prime, Ozma still moved to protect Fran as though she were his daughter, his new daughter.
Her jaw was stiff. She had searched across the years, for something beyond her tears. Yet, she always found the same answer: it wasn't her fault. It wasn't fair. Everything was bent on being against her. The Brother gods deemed that she stands alone. The mornings have deserted her. But now, there was no one left to blame.
She rose from her throne and moved away. She had acted just for her on her stage of fantasy. Daylight was coming. But the coming of the dawn had come too late.
"Why do the things we have seem precious only once they slipped away?" she asked no one. She was the fool that lived inside of dreams, fearing the morning's gentle beams.
AN: I've said it before and I'll say it again: Frankenstein: the New Musical made one change to the book that felt like an upgrade.