"Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime."
- Ernest Hemingway
Sometimes, Kali regretted her decision to renounce violence.
The past few years had taught her much, and the lessons were not often kind. Recently, she had learned that violence was sometimes better than the alternative — that violence could solve problems. If she could turn back time, she'd solve a few more problems with violence. Specifically, the problem named Sienna Khan.
If she had dealt with that problem years ago, she wouldn't be forced to witness her home and people descend into chaos.
She and Ghira were safe in their manor, but every night, a new street was ablaze with gunfire. They could see it all from their elevated position, watching the White Fang march through the streets like an occupying force — or liberators, as they undoubtedly saw themselves.
As much as it pained her to watch the organization that had taken her daughter parade through the city, it would have been bearable if not for the ceaseless fighting. Splinter groups, shifting loyalties, battles in the streets — the senseless violence tearing families apart and shattering their fragile peace was what was truly destroying Kuo Kuana. The people were resilient. They could endure hardship, even oppression. But this... this was unforgivable.
Today familiar dark smoke drifted up from the eastern part of the city — the market district, this time. The acrid scent of burning wood reached her even on the balcony. Her hand rested on her husband's, and they shared a worried look. They supposedly ruled Menagerie, but they could do nothing but watch as it was torn apart.
Her gaze fell upon a group of White Fang, a dozen or so, speaking with the Manor Guard near the entrance. It was a daily ritual: the White Fang demanding an audience, the guards refusing, a tense standoff until the White Fang retreated.
Little did she know that today would be different.
She watched, disinterested, as the Manor Guard and White Fang exchanged words, both gripping their weapons tightly. The White Fang ambassador had just begun turning away when a distant, high-pitched whine pierced the air. The unmistakable sound of a Bullhead's engine.
She hadn't heard a Bullhead since she'd started to be confined here — she suspected it had something to do with the White Fang hoarding any dust that might have been used as fuel.
She scanned the horizon until she spotted them. Nudging Ghira, she pointed at several Bullheads flying low over the water. They were no model Kali had ever seen — sleeker, black models that were moving at much higher speeds than anything she had seen.
The city around them suddenly sprang to life, the White Fang mobilizing rapidly. No shooting yet, but the urgency was palpable.
"An emissary?" Ghira wondered aloud.
"Perhaps," Kali agreed. "What else could it be? It certainly doesn't look like an invasion."
Her husband grunted. "Not unless they intend to invade with fewer than a hundred men.
If this were an invasion, they'd have brought more Bullheads."
"They're certainly capable of it," she mused. "Maybe an escort?"
"You think it's Perseus?" Ghira asked, though Kali sensed his disbelief. She wasn't sure herself—he'd never arrived with more than one Bullhead before. He was too confident for that. But this was a special circumstance...
Below, the commotion escalated. She could hear raised voices.
"The purpose of the Bullheads are unknown. You are not equipped to protect the Chieftain and Chieftess — the White Fang is the only force that can guarantee their safety."
"The Manor Guard has never failed in its duty," one of the guards in ceremonial gray robes replied, spear planted firmly.
Kali's attention returned to the approaching Bullheads. A flare shot up from the west—the White Fang signaling a landing zone.
Her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of their movements. The Bullheads flew in a spread but seemingly random formation, moving in wildly different directions at breakneck speeds, neither changing course nor slowing down.
The formation held as they reached the city, each Bullhead barely clearing the rooftops.
WHOOOOOOM
She and Ghira ducked as one aircraft roared overhead, mere feet above them. The afterdraft billowed their clothes, nearly pushing them back inside.
KAROOOM!
An explosion ripped through the air, the balcony shuddering beneath them. Kali's ears rang, her heart hammering in her chest as, through squinted eyes, she watched the White Fang headquarters become a blazing inferno in seconds.
Explosions around the island echoed the first, the nearest one just a block away—the city hall, now a White Fang base.
"They've struck every splinter group's headquarters," she muttered.
"The collateral..." Ghira trailed off.
Kali understood. Innocent lives would be lost. Lives they were charged to protect.
The city stood still, collectively stunned for what seemed like an eternity, until the first bullet whizzed past her ear.
She was tackled before she knew what was happening, as gunfire erupted from below and within the manor. Though they were in the open, the White Fang had the advantage — machine guns against her guards' outdated firearms and spears. Combat veterans against men who'd never fought.
Pembela's proposal to grant the guard more resources seemed like a better idea in hindsight. At the time all she could think about was how there were people going hungry who she could feed for a year with the money it would take to protect herself.
The world was a blur as she was ushered inside alongside Ghira by her guards. Two of them went back out to the balcony to help their comrades hold back the White Fang, while Pembela, the Guard's leader, stayed with her and Ghira. Kali sat up, but Ghira cautioned her to stay down.
"Are we safe?" he demanded.
Pembela looked grim. "For now. We're holding, but if more come..."
Kali squeezed Ghira's hand. They shared a look.
A Bullhead's roar interrupted them. The aircraft pulled a sharp turn and came to a hover directly in front of their balcony. It was sleek and black — the same model as ones that had just bombed the White Fang. Bullets fired by their guards and the White Fang both pinged off of it to no effect.
"Don't shoot!" Ghira roared.
It proved to be the correct decision. The Bullhead's turret revved to life, quickly silencing the White Fang's gunfire.
The turret spun to a halt, and for a single second the only noise was that of the chaos in the city outside.
Then, the doors slid open, allowing several soldiers clad head to toe to pour out, each one bearing the markings of Mistral. They ignored the guards, spreading through the building with practiced discipline.
One approached them, crouching down to eye level.
"Majesties, we're here to protect you. We're at your command. With your permission, my men will secure the building."
Despite herself, Kali raised an eyebrow. With some amusement, she glanced towards the stairwell where half of his men had already vanished.
"What's happening?" Ghira demanded.
The soldier's response was delayed as the Bullhead took off, its doors closing as it flew away. Outside, she could see the other Bullheads buzzing around the city, guns delivering sporadic fire below. She watched as one was skimmed by a missile that hit one of its engines, and it spun lazily to the ground.
"I can't divulge operational details," the soldier finally said. "Only that we're here to protect you. Do you have a basement?"
"Yes." Pelembe scowled, and Kali found herself agreeing with the sentiment. The change of topic had been about as subtle as an Ursa. "But it's not any more secure than the rest of the building."
"It's best we move there regardless," he insisted.
They exchanged looks. Pembela shook his head. "We won't cower while my men fight."
"Please," the soldier pressed her and Ghira directly. "Once fighting resumes, this will not be a secure location."
"I agree with Pelembe's decision. You are at our service," Kali reminded him. "And our decision is to stay."
Though it was hard to gauge emotions from under a mask, Kali guessed the soldier wasn't happy. She wasn't being difficult for the sake of it; she didn't trust him. The squad was clearly from Mistral, and she believed Percy had sent them — what she didn't trust was the intention of the individual soldier himself. For all she knew he was compromised, and would strike once they were alone in the basement, away from her guards. In her time ruling Menagerie, she had learned that you couldn't trust anyone — especially someone you didn't know.
It may have seemed paranoid, but that same paranoia had saved her family from assassination more than once. There was a reason it was one that she, Pelembe, and Ghira all shared.
If she had been more paranoid earlier, she'd still have her daughter.
Despite his obvious disagreement the soldier nodded tersely, taking a position by a window, rifle aimed.
"Look!" Ghira exclaimed, standing up.
Kali followed his gaze. Several ships dotted the horizon—ships, not specks.
"How did they get so close?" she wondered aloud. "Surely the White Fang would have seen them?"
"Hostile infantry, 1 squad, 30 meters north, in the buildings!"
Chatter and gunfire interrupted any answer she might have hoped for, and she held her hands over her feline ears in a vain attempt to block out the noise as she was coerced back to the ground with her husband.
Unlike their guards, the Mistrali soldiers had machine guns.
"Contacts down."
The gunfire died down, and Kali set aside her annoyance. She shot Ghira a meaningful look.
"We're increasing the Guard's budget if we get out of this,"
Ghira sighed. "Agreed."
The next thirty minutes crawled by. Mistral's ships approached by the minute, and Kali learned that she had been wrong about how far out they were. They were several times larger than she had thought, and so had been several times farther away. Not that it changed that it should have been impossible to get so close, but in addition to their proximity she was also in awe of their size. She had seen one from the sky when she and Ghira had flown to Atlas for the peace conference, but the view hadn't done the behemoth justice.
The White Fang, unfortunately for them, hadn't stopped assaulting the manor.
There were brief breaks in the fighting, but those were becoming fewer and further between. She was forced to admit — as she suspected even Pembela would — that the Mistrali soldiers were the reason for that. They were skilled and far better equipped, not only compared to her men but also the White Fang.
Yet another annoyance courtesy of hindsight was that maybe they shouldn't have sold off some of the lands surrounding the estate.
She shook her head — that was what war did. It made you think as if you were constantly under threat of attack, and that could be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Isolating themselves from the people would make them worse leaders. These were the risks they took.
"It looks like they have a full company arriving," the Mistrali squad's leader who refused to give her a name told them, filling both of them in during one of his periodic reports. "We think it's a large part of their strength they're diverting to capture you before the main forces arrive, but due to the small size of the force we believe this is not a concerted effort from one of the cells and instead the decision of a field officer."
Despite the absurdity, Kali accepted his knowledge of the White Fang's internal affairs on Kuo Kuana without question.
"So if a larger cell attacked, we'd be doomed," Ghira fumed.
Kali got the sense the soldier was smiling under his helmet. "Rest assured, we've taken measures to ensure that doesn't happen."
He held a hand up, cutting short Ghira's reply, pressing it to his ear as if he were listening to something.
"Good news," he told them, letting his hand fall. "The ships have landed. Reinforcements will-"
"Aura!" an alarmed cry rang from the balcony.
The squad leader cursed, grabbing his rifle and moving quickly towards the balcony.
"Deux, get air suppo-"
She instinctively looked away as a bright flash enveloped the balcony, followed by the loudest noise she had ever heard.
She opened her eyes.
The balcony was no longer there — only a few pieces of cement barely held aloft. The door and surrounding bits of wall were gone as well, blown inwards. The three men that had been outside — two guards and one soldier — were gone.
"Basement, now!" The squad leader commanded.
Kali froze. She knew the two guards — the two boys. They'd shared meals, smiles, and laughter. They had shared a home with her for months. Now they were gone.
She was snapped out of her reverie when a soldier ran to a shattered window, firing down at the White Fang.
One of their fellow soldiers had died out there as well. How could they just move on?
"By staying here, you're risking the lives of your men, my men, and the stability of your country! You need to move!"
"We'll go," Ghira agreed, his voice strained.
They were ushered down the stairway, led by Palembe who himself looked frazzled. As they reached the first floor she heard the baritone roar of a Bullhead's engines arrive outside, followed shortly by the newly familiar hum of the Bullhead's turret.
She caught a single glimpse of the turret barraging a building before it disappeared out of sight as she was hurried to the basement.
"The aura user is down," the squad leader told them. It helped to calm her nerves, but only barely.
They settled in the basement, the soldier diligently keeping his sights on the entrance to the stairwell while Pelembe stayed with her and Ghira. They clung to each other, their hands intertwined in a silent promise of support.
Until, in a motion Kali had learned to dread, the soldier held his hand to his ear.
But rather than leaping up in alarm, the man lowered his gun.
"Good news," he called. "It's over."
"The fight for the manor?" Ghira asked.
"The Liberation of Menagerie," he corrected.
Yang stifled her complaints, eager not to seem like a pushover in front of the mysterious desert-woman who had saved her.
It's just that it was so hot. They set out in the evening every day, and it felt like she was being baked alive right up until the sun set, and then she was instantly freezing to death. Then when the sun came up again they slept, and Yang had never had so much trouble sleeping as when it felt like she was being slowly roasted inside of their tent — even her dad's snoring wasn't as bad as this.
And that was without even mentioning the ride. The stupid camel she rode was killing her thighs and pelvis, and its breath might have been the worst thing she had ever smelled. If nothing else, it definitely wasn't helping her recover her strength.
All that, and they weren't even three days into a two week journey.
Thankfully, there were some small mercies. For one, Samara clearly knew her way around the desert. Each night they'd been able to make a small camp under an overhang or in a small cave, which helped with the heat, and they'd been able to restock on water at a small Oasis on the second night as well.
They were in one of their rarer moments of silence, but the woman asked a lot of questions — mostly what Beacon was like, or about her family and friends. Yang figured she just wanted to know more about the girl that she was going through so much trouble to keep alive, but maybe she was just a curious person — either way, the conversations were a welcome distraction from the discomfort.
"There are people behind those dunes ahead," Samara suddenly told her, speaking softly. Yang followed her gaze ahead of them to where two tall dunes made a relatively narrow passage between them — perfect for an ambush.
"Bandits?" Yang asked, keeping her voice low.
"Probably," Samara agreed. "But don't assume anything — underestimating a potential adversary is a quick way to get yourself killed."
Yang nodded to show she understood. She had to admit that having her ass kicked so quickly at Beacon had humbled her a bit — she wasn't quite as keen to rush into things — not that she could have avoided that fight in particular.
"Do we spring the ambush?" Yang asked as they neared the dunes.
"No," Samara shook her head. "But there's no use trying to go around or sneak up on them either — they'll have seen us long before we saw them."
"Then what do we do?" Yang asked, slowing her camel to a halt beside her.
"Show yourselves!" Samara demanded, her voice rolling over the desert.
A moment of silence, then a man appeared atop one of the dunes.
Yang's breath hitched.
"Empty yourselves of valuables and you may keep your lives, humans!" the White Fang soldier demanded, his voice thick with a Vacuan accent.
Yang's eyes widened as, following his demand, dozens of similarly clad White Fang soldiers revealed themselves, cresting the dune on either side of them, rifles in hand.
How many were here? In her current state Yang still knew she could take at least a dozen, but there were definitely more than that. And worse, two of them weren't carrying rifles at all. One had a mace, the other a grenade launcher and a wicked-looking cleaver.
Aura users.
"Stand aside in the name of the Asturias family!" Samara demanded confidently, unclasping a small stone of some kind from around her waist and raising it for them all to see. A pattern inscribed on the tome began glowing, shining clearly in the late evening desert.
Yang stared at her in astonishment. The Asturias family? Vacuo's royalty? Was this a bluff?
Either way, Yang didn't share the enigmatic woman's confidence.
The White Fang hesitated, clearly unsettled by the mention of the royal family.
"We don't answer to the royals," their leader remained steadfast. "But your ransom will be worth more than anything you carry. Surrender, and I'll guarantee your safety."
The soldiers raised their rifles. Yang prayed Samara was as good a fighter as she acted, because between the thirty or so grunts and the two aura users, Yang wasn't winning this fight as she was right now.
"Final warning," Samara cautioned, her voice unwavering. "Do not impede us."
A gust of wind swept through the valley, swirling sand around them.
Without warning, the White Fang opened fire. Yang tried to leap from her camel, but the ground erupted in a blinding explosion of sand.
She clenched her eyes shut as her vision became filled with sand and the substance was flung in every direction, but miraculously, the sand didn't touch her.
When she opened her eyes, the White Fang were gone, replaced by distant shouts and curses. It only took a moment to piece together that the White Fang had been knocked all the way down the dunes by a wave of sand, and Yang stared at her traveling partner in jealousy.
A semblance that let her control sand? In a continent covered by desert?
"Quickly," Samara urged her, and they both wasted no time urging their camels forward.
She was not prepared for how fast a camel could run.
They took off across the sand faster than any horse Yang had ever seen, kicking up sand as she struggled to stay on.
A gunshot cracked from behind them. Samara, still riding at breakneck speed, turned and extended a hand. Yang caught a glimpse of the shooter just as they sank into the ground up to their neck.
They made it out of sight soon after and allowed their camels to slow, though they still trotted along at a pace that Yang would have thought the lumbering beasts of burden were incapable of for another hour or so, when they finally slowed back to a walk.
Yang bit her tongue before she could ask to take a break from riding. The last hour had not been kind to her backside.
"So…" Yang couldn't resist asking. "You know the royals?"
Samara made a noise somewhere between a snort and a scoff. "We have an agreement that they leave me alone in return for my neutrality during the civil war. That's all."
"Still," Yang persisted. "They made a deal with you personally?" she asked. "Must be one strong huntress to get their personal attention." she said.
Samara waved off the assertion. "I'm one of few huntsmen in Vacuo not aligned with Shade. They wanted to eliminate any uncertainty."
Yang nodded, though Samara couldn't see her, being slightly ahead.
"Hey," Yang snapped her fingers, "You ever met Perseus?" she asked, remembering that he and Vacuo's royal family was buddy-buddy.
"Perhaps," Samara tensed. "Why do you ask?"
"Just curious," Yang said casually, "I've met him through my family. He's a mysterious guy — kinda wanna get someone else's perspective, y'know?"
Samara hummed. "I understand. Unfortunately, I can't offer much insight. I've met him briefly, but he never let his guard down if that's what you mean. Anyway, we should find a place to rest soon."
Yang noted the change in conversation, but didn't comment.
"Shouldn't we be worried about the White Fang following us?" she asked.
"They don't have any mounts," Samara dismissed. "They won't be on our tail, and the wind will erase our tracks. But our camels need to rest, we pushed them hard."
Yang sighed in relief, suppressing a shiver. "Okay, no complaints here. A warm fire and some nice stew sounds pretty amazing right now."
Samara winced. "Even if they're far behind, we can't risk a fire. The light and smoke would be visible for miles."
"Oh," Yang articulated, slouching on her camel.
Today just kept getting better.
The jet wash kicked up a swirl of dust and debris as Percy's Bullhead settled heavily onto the scarred grounds of the Belladonna manor. The fighting had subsided, but there were still skirmishes happening around the city. As it turned out, Percy's hatred of being airborne resurfaced when in a war zone; strapped into a metal bird, he felt like a sitting duck. Sure he could survive a lot, but a single missile could still send him spiraling to the ground on the inside of a giant bomb. He might survive, but the others with him wouldn't stand a chance.
He shook those thoughts from his head and stepped off of the Bullhead. He was back on the ground. For now, at least.
Blake got out behind him — he didn't offer her a hand, he knew she'd be offended — and looked around in wonderment. Percy wondered if it was the nostalgia from seeing her childhood home or the scars of combat on the house — or a mix of both. Either way she was clearly nervous, and if it would have helped he would've offered her some comforting words. Unfortunately they weren't what you might call friends.
Behind her, the general in charge of the division Shiro had selected dismounted.
"What's the security situation here?" Percy asked him as they strode towards the battle-scarred manor.
"A company is holding the perimeter," the general responded. "Roughly two hundred soldiers."
Percy whistled lowly, but nodded. He was taking this seriously — that was good.
They entered the manor through the front door, though the door itself was partially blown off its hinges. The sound of their boots on splintered wood and shattered glass was the only noise in the house, periodically interrupted by a brief staccato of gunfire from a distant skirmish.
They made their way to the basement stairs, pausing at the top. Percy met Blake's eyes; they had discussed this beforehand.
Biting her lip, the girl nodded.
Percy descended the stairs, the general close behind. Blake remained at the top, just out of sight.
A soldier at the bottom snapped to attention, saluting as they approached. The general returned the salute with a curt nod.
Then, a blur of motion. Percy wasn't sure if the slap or the hug came first.
He hugged Kali back with one arm, raising the other to preemptively wave off the soldier.
"Oh you foolish, foolish boy." Kali cried.
"I'm glad you're okay," Percy said sincerely. "You too, Ghira." He nodded at the older man.
"You bombed the city!" Kali pulled back, tears streaming down her face.
"Only military targets," he assured her. "Our intelligence was good."
"Do you honestly believe you avoided civilian casualties with bombs that size?" she glared at him, real anger leaking into her voice.
Percy winced. "You're right. I shouldn't have been so dismissive. I'm sorry, but I did what I had to. The alternatives were worse."
Ghira placed a hand on his wife's shoulder, cutting off her tear-stricken response. "Kali, not now. We can speak when we've had time to process this."
She took a shuddering breath and nodded. "Sorry," she apologized, her voice hoarse. "It's been a long day."
Percy smiled sympathetically. "Don't worry about it. Unfortunately it's not over just yet."
The two looked at him with a mixture of dread and resignation.
"Firstly, this is General Gray. He's in charge of the force that liberated Menagerie, he and his men will be at your service. We can discuss the logistics later, but I wanted to introduce you to him as soon as possible."
The general inclined his head. "It's an honor to meet you both."
The Belladonnas offered polite greetings, though with an understandable lack of enthusiasm.
"He'll take care of everything until you two have had a chance to sleep — including helping the wounded. I can guarantee that we'll take everyone alive we can, and they'll be dealt with by your courts."
Ghira nodded wearily, wrapping an arm around Kali. "Will that be all?"
"One more thing, I'm afraid," Percy smiled apologetically, doing a poor job of stifling a grin. "I found something you lost. Blake!"
Confusion flickered across their faces, until Blake became visible on the stairwell. She didn't make it to the bottom.
Kali vanished in a blink, reappearing beside her daughter and enveloping her in a silent embrace. Ghira stared, stunned.
Her mother teleported to her side, wordlessly hugging her daughter while Ghira stared in shock.
"Oh, honey..." Kali murmured, pulling back to examine Blake's bruised and gaunt face. "What happened?"
Ghira recovered his wits and was spurred into action, joining the group hug. Blake, despite herself, visibly melted into their affection.
"She was recently held captive by the White Fang," Percy stepped in to explain. "She was rescued a few days ago, but I wanted you to see her before I said anything. Blake can fill in the rest, but I'd recommend letting her relax for a bit."
He wasn't sure if they'd even heard him, but they seemed to take his advice, the family losing themselves in being together for the first time in years.
Percy and the general exchanged a look. They both picked their way around the Belladonnas, leaving the family to enjoy their reunion in privacy.
"Are you leaving?" The generalasked once they were well out of earshot of the stairwell.
"I'll stick around a day or two to talk to them once things have settled down," Percy told him. "But no more than a few days — it's a long trip, and there's a lot to do back in Mistral.""
The two guards on either side of the manor's front door saluted the general as they walked past, and Percy lowered his voice. "Keep an eye on the Belladonnas — I'm not asking you to undermine them, but don't let them risk a full-on revolt. And have your men train a local army while you're here — Kali won't like it, but it's far past time Menagerie had some way of defending itself. We're lucky it was the White Fang this time, not the Grimm."
The general nodded. "Would you like us to supply them with weapons and equipment as well?"
Percy hopped up onto the Bullhead that waited for him, its jets whining as it spooled up. He paused for a moment.
"Yes, do that. I'll make sure we send extra munitions."
"I understand," the general told him, and they shared a nod as the Bullhead took off.
"Ave!" the general saluted as Percy was flown away. Percy did his best to ignore it which, annoyingly, played right into his role.
He watched as the landscape below sped by, reminiscing a time when Kuo Kuana wasn't on fire.
It'll be back to normal soon, he silently swore.
But the musing reminded him about the times he'd spent on the island. About his favorite — and not so favorite — activities.
He was wearing a wide grin by the time the Bullhead sat him down.
"Ready to go?" he asked the five huntsmen-in-training waiting for him, his cheerful tone having them looking visibly uneasy.
"Ready to go where?" Ruby tried.
Percy's grin widened. "Any of you ever fought Grimm on Menagerie before?"
Jaune gulped.
Hi! Sorry for the update late in the day again. I actually had the chapter done for supporters a few days ago but wanted to edit some parts. I spent a lot of time on it today and ended up deciding not to edit anything. just couldn't make it work :/
Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think
In more personal news, I got a job yesterday! This is great news for me but slightly bad news for you guys because I'm not sure what it will mean for my uploads. I'm committing to trying to stay with minimum one chapter a month. I'll keep you posted.
Friendly reminder that I do pay attention to feedback, and you guys have genuinely made me rethink/adjust some aspects of the story in advance. So if ya got something to say, say it.
Anyway, that should be all for my rant tonight. Again, sorry for the delay - job stuff + wanted to edit next chap.
Hope everyone has a great rest of their week!
Next Chapter October 15