//------------------------------//
// Acquaintances, Old and New 
// Story: SAPR 
// by Scipio Smith 
//------------------------------//


Acquaintances, Old and New


Pyrrha stood alone at the gates that barred the way to the house of the Rutulus family. The house - the entire compound, really - was very similar in form to her own estate, save that it was set a little higher up the hill: surrounded by a wall and barred to her by gates as it was, nevertheless the top of the house was visible to her, tall and high-ceilinged as it was, with windows marking several storeys upwards from the ground. A banner, marked with the family symbol of a tiger butterfly, fluttered from a modest tower rising from the roof alongside a second flag bearing the tiger's head symbol of Rutulian Security.
Pyrrha hesitated, on the wrong side of the gate; she would have to make her presence known at some point - she needed Turnus' help, his martial and financial support - but she did not want to do so. She had never truly liked Turnus, not even when they were children, and that feeling of dislike had only increased after he came back from Atlas with an ill reputation and plans for her that she wanted no part in. And yet it could not be avoided: he was one of the wealthiest lords in the city, and just as importantly, he had men under arms whom Mistral - and Pyrrha herself - could use the aid of.
She wished she could be more certain of her ability to persuade him to render her that aid.
She wished she could be certain that he would not ask a price too great for her to pay in return.
Pyrrha glanced down at the engagement ring that glimmered on her finger; the band of gold and the sapphire set upon the gold both seemed particularly bright against the black of her glove. It was so beautiful, in her eyes the most beautiful ring that any girl ever received. She would not wear it into battle - she would not take the risk of losing it in some muddy field - but, though she was presently armed for war, she was not expecting physical difficulties here. She continued to look down at the ring, taking courage from it and a little strength as well, before she raised her hand towards the intercom button that jutted out of the rough stone wall beside the gate.
Before she could actually press the button, the gate began to move of its own accord, rolling sideways with a rumbling sound as it slid behind the wall, leaving the gateway open for Pyrrha. She stood for a moment, looking for some sign of whoever had opened the gate for her and finding none. She walked in, and scarcely had she entered the courtyard when the gate began to close behind her, sliding back into place with a rumble and the click of a lock. Pyrrha paid no mind as she advanced upon the house, Miló and Akoúo̱ upon her back and hands held rigidly by her side. The house of the Rutulus family was surrounded by no gardens as her own house was - no cherry trees blossomed here - rather, the courtyard was grey and austere and wholly paved over, a mustering yard for Turnus' forces quartered in the outbuildings that surrounded the main house. The only commonality between the two was in the statues, as monuments to Turnus' ancestors dotted the courtyard just as Pyrrha's filled up the gardens of her home. No family that laid any claim to status would be without them.
The great black doors into the house opened at Pyrrha's approach, parting towards her with a grind of hinges as they were pushed open by the man who emerged from between the two, throwing his arms out wide on either side as he walked towards her. "Pyrrha!" he cried. "Pyrrha, it's so good to see you again."
Pyrrha put on the mask of the champion of Mistral, and smiled. "Likewise, Turnus," she said, holding out her arms for an embrace in turn, if less widely or enthusiastically as he.
Turnus Rutulus was a man in his early twenties, tall and dark with his hair - streaked with red, like embers burning amidst cold coals - curling in ringlets down his back and behind his ears. He was dressed in a long red tunic that went down almost to his knees but left his arms and lower legs bare; a long and heavy-bladed sword was buckled on his waist by a studded belt.
They met, and Pyrrha allowed Turnus to embrace her and pretended not to notice the way that he smelled her hair when they were clasped together. He held onto the embrace just a little longer than Pyrrha was entirely comfortable with, but he released her in the end and took a step back. He smiled. "So, the pride and glory of Mistral comes to my door at last," he observed sardonically. "To what do I owe the...?" he stopped, his voice trailing off into nothing as he caught sight of the ring gleaming on Pyrrha's finger. "What is that?" he demanded, his voice becoming a little more harsh and demanding than it had been.
Pyrrha glanced down at the ring on her finger, her smile becoming more genuine as she said, "I think you might be one of the first people outside of my own house to know this - at least until Autumn publishes her next blog - but I'm engaged to be married."
It was the strangest thing, but Pyrrha almost thought she heard a disembodied voice cry out a triumphant 'yes!' from just behind her ear, but how could anyone have when she and Turnus were the only people in the courtyard, and if someone could, then why would they? Her joy at being engaged was clearly affecting her mind a little too much.
Turnus' mouth twisted with distaste. "To the Valish boy?"
"To Jaune, yes," Pyrrha replied.
"Why?" Turnus demanded. "What do you see in-?"
"I don't believe I need to explain that to you, Turnus," Pyrrha said, cutting him off as her voice chilled noticeably. "I came here to discuss the affairs of our kingdom, not my private life, and though this is your house, I do not think I am obliged to listen to you demean my fiancé to my face. Certainly I will not listen."
Turnus fell silent a moment. "Yes," he admitted. "That would make me a poor host, wouldn't it? Forgive me." He gestured inside the house. "And come inside, if you will."
Pyrrha nodded. "Thank you," she murmured as the two of them walked side by side through the great doors and into the house itself. Though the house of the Rutulus family appeared to be austere and perhaps a little over-martial on the outside, within the walls of the house proper it was as richly decorated as any great house in Mistral, with the walls painted in black and orange like the tiger butterfly - or the tiger - while vases and statuettes of great antiquity sat upon plinths dotting the great hallway, with its high ceiling reaching up several storeys. The carpet was blue, checkered with red, and a staircase rose up from the centre of the hall, ascending to the first floor balcony.
 And upon that balcony stood, looking down upon her as though he had the right to judge her for her actions, none other than Professor Leonardo Lionheart. He stared at her, his hands seemingly frozen to the wooden rail of the landing; he seemed greyer now than he had been before, and carried himself with a guilty posture. As well he might feel guilt after all that he had done. 
"Lionheart!" Pyrrha snapped, anger rising into her voice. Without thinking, she shifted into a combat stance, one hand reaching for Miló where it hung from her back. "What are you doing here?"
"Leonardo is my guest, and has been for some time," Turnus declared casually. "Is that a problem?"
"Your guest?" Pyrrha cried, turning her attention away from Lionheart and towards Turnus as she backed away from him. Her gaze flickered between Turnus and the open doorway, with the closed gate beyond. Was this a trap that she had walked into? Was Turnus just as much a traitor as Lionheart was? She hoped it was not so, not for her own safety's sake but because, in spite of everything, Turnus remained a son of Mistral; she did not wish to think that he could fall so low. And yet what other explanation could there be? "Why, Turnus?" she asked. "Why would you betray Mistral to Salem?"
"Betray Mistral? I have done no such thing!" Turnus replied, his voice rising with a heat to match Pyrrha's own. "And who in Remnant is Salem?" He spoke with conviction, or at least Pyrrha thought he did... or at the very least she wished to think he did. "In any case, Leonardo is a guest in my hall and thus, in my hall, he is beyond all harm. As are you."
Pyrrha definitely believed that. For all that she did not particularly care for him, she acknowledged that there were aspects of antique lordship that Turnus played at very seriously, and hospitality was one of them. She would be safe from harm here beneath his roof... and so would Lionheart. "Very well," Pyrrha murmured, moving her hands away from her weapons and returning them to her sides, palms open to show she meant no harm. "You rule in your own home."
Turnus nodded. "Leonardo, get you away from here; the sight of you offends my lady's eye."
Lionheart had been standing on the landing, petrified by fright since he had - seemingly by sheer accident - come to Pyrrha's attention. Now he started, appearing to be surprised and guilty both in equal measure. "I...yes, of course."
"Yes, ‘lord’," Turnus said, in a warning tone.
A flash of irritation crossed Lionheart's face, but he nevertheless bowed his head. "Yes, lord. I will withdraw at once." And he did, his footsteps muffled by the carpet so that Pyrrha could not hear him go as he passed out of sight.
"There," Turnus said. "That is better, no?"
"Not particularly; he is still in this house after all," Pyrrha replied. "Why are you harbouring a traitor to Mistral?"
"A traitor to Mistral," Turnus repeated. "Tell me, Pyrrha, who is he supposed to have betrayed Mistral to? Is it this Salem that you speak of? And who is Salem?"
"She is… our enemy. Not just my enemy, but your enemy, and Mistral’s enemy; she is the enemy of all mankind," Pyrrha said, giving him as much information as she felt comfortable divulging at present.
“That is not possible,” Turnus said, waving one hand as though her words were a fly that he could flick away. "My sister invited him here, and she would not bring so great a danger as you make out into this house; she has her foibles but she is no enemy of mankind, or Mistral either.”
“Your sister?” Pyrrha repeated. “Juturna brought him here?”
“Indeed; what use she has for him I cannot say but in the meantime, I find him useful. He keeps me apprised of what is said in Council, and he says and votes as I instruct him. It is thanks in part to my tame Lionheart that the Council has so far not taken any action against Atlas...or you, for that matter."
"I was aware of his surprising voting record, but not that I had you to thank for it," Pyrrha murmured. "Although I am not sure why you’ve had him help me."
"There are times when I am uncertain myself," Turnus said, his voice acquiring a hint of a growl as he glanced once more towards the ring on Pyrrha's finger. “Although I suppose there are pragmatic reasons; there is a risk my own enterprise could be caught in the net of a blanket ban on private armies, not to mention the trouble that would arise with MARS.”
"And Atlas?" Pyrrha asked. "I am glad that you are not amongst those who favour a confrontational attitude.” Although that, too, surprises me a little.
"On the contrary," Turnus declared, "Atlas has much to teach us, if only we can bend our pride to listen. They are a great power, while we...we are a failing one, and grievously on the wane. We must look to them as a student to a teacher. We must model ourselves upon their discipline, their obedience to authority, their unity of purpose if we are to regain our former glory."
The Atlesians I have fought beside would never have left their teammates to die at the hands of the grimm; or worse, done the deed themselves, Pyrrha thought; nobody knew exactly what had happened upon that training mission, but even if the mildest interpretation were true and Turnus had abandoned his teammates...it was not something that she could ever imagine Rainbow Dash doing, or Ciel. Not that she could say so for obvious reasons; instead she said, “My experience fighting alongside Atlesian huntresses has left me with a slightly different impression of their virtues than you.” Discipline, obedience, and unity, yes, they possessed all those qualities, but what of the camaraderie that bound them together in the battle-line?
Turnus chuckled. “Yes, you befriended Ironwood’s proteges, didn’t you? In truth, though, I think that man is a little soft, and far too tolerant of weakness that a stronger man would purge without mercy. I learnt far more about what makes Atlas great in my time at the SDC than I did in my two years at Atlas Academy.” A fond smile played across his face. “My captain at SDC security could teach a thing or two about how discipline and strength go hand in hand. Still, though it appears we disagree on what makes Atlas admirable, we yet, I think, agree that it is not in Mistral’s interests to quarrel with them.”
"We are stronger together than we are apart," Pyrrha agreed. "I'm glad you see that in some way, at least. I am still not glad that you have Lionheart in your house; he may have been useful to you, I fear that Juturna is putting all of you in grave danger."
Turnus' eyes narrowed. "I trust my sister more than your...I’m bound to call it deliberate vagueness."
"I am as clear as I can be," Pyrrha replied. "Ask Lionheart, if you will, and then decide whether he is welcome as your guest."
"I will speak to Juturna about it," Turnus murmured. "But why did you come here, Pyrrha? Not to warn me about Lionheart - you didn't know he was here - so why have you come?"
Pyrrha drew in a deep breath. "Because I need your help," she said. "And so does Mistral."
Turnus folded his strong arms across his chest. "You come to ask me for help wearing a lesser man's ring upon your finger?"
"My hand and heart are mine to give to whom I choose," Pyrrha declared. "I never gave you any promise of either."
"Your mother led me to believe differently," Turnus growled.
"My mother and I have come to a greater mutual understanding recently," Pyrrha said, "and in any case, she may have led you to expect something that was never hers to give." She paused for only a brief moment. "I came here to speak of Mistral, not of myself."
"But it is you who comes asking for my help," Turnus pointed out.
"Mistral needs your help," Pyrrha corrected. "I cannot continue to protect this kingdom alone; if you and your forces would share the burden-"
"Rutulian Security already protects any village that can afford to pay," Turnus informed her. "Provided they ask for our protection, of course. Most of them seem to prefer yours, probably because it's free. If you yourself were to start charging, then perhaps you wouldn't need my assistance."
"You understand the sacred nature of hospitality but not the notion that a lord should protect his people?" Pyrrha asked. "Grimm and bandits alike descend upon our settlements, and you haggle over lien with desperate villagers? Worse, you advise me to do the same? How will Mistral ever regain its former glory if we have allowed its lands to be overrun by monsters and vagabonds, its people slaughtered and devoured?"
Turnus was silent for a moment. "You say it is the duty of the lord to defend the people," he said. "I say it is the duty of the leader. Let the little men who presume to lead this kingdom then defend it."
"They do not!" Pyrrha cried. "Thanks, in part, to Lionheart. Are you aware that proposals in Council to have the huntsmen who remain in the city sent forth to defend the settlements have failed because of Lionheart’s vote against them? Was that your doing? If you would have him-”
“No,” Turnus said, cutting her off. “I will not have him do so. It does not serve my interests.”
“It is in your interests to let Mistral burn?”
"It is in my interests that the people should open their eyes," Turnus declared. "That they should see the folly and the failure of our system and the inadequacy of those who presume to lead us. Do not allow yourself to be used as a shield for those who are so much less than you."
"And let people die so that the Council may be discomfited?" Pyrrha replied. "No. I cannot do that. It is not in my nature." She sighed. “Is there nothing that I could say that would convince you to...to do the right thing?”
Turnus hesitated. His gaze flickered to the ring upon her finger. “There might be.”
Pyrrha’s other hand went to the ring, to Jaune’s ring, covering it from his sight. “No,” she said. “You have no right, and nor does Mistral. Please, Turnus, do not try to blackmail some sham affection out of me. You’re better than that. Or at least I hope you are.”
“Better,” Turnus snorted. “So by accepting that I have been beaten by a pathetic boy, I show myself to be better? What a curious way of looking at it.”
"It might offer you some consolation, whether you deserve it or not,” Pyrrha growled. “I fear that we will not see eye to eye upon this. Goodbye, Turnus."
She strode out of the doors - still open, as they had been to admit her, although as Pyrrha left, Turnus shut them behind her - and emerged once more into the stone courtyard. Lionheart was waiting for her there, and although he bore no visible weapon, Pyrrha nevertheless felt herself tense up at the sight of him.
Lionheart raised his hands pacifically. "Please, Pyrrha, I am not here to fight with you. I only want to talk."
"I don't think that we have anything to say to one another," Pyrrha replied coldly. She did not go forward - she didn't want to turn her back on Lionheart - so she simply waited for him to go so that she could continue on her way.
Lionheart cringed from the tone of her voice. "I...I am glad to see you returned home safe and sound," he said.
"Rather than dead, as Cinder would have had me, once upon a time?" Pyrrha demanded.
"I never wanted that to happen," Lionheart insisted. "Pyrrha, I've known you since you were a child-"
"But did I ever know you?" Pyrrha asked. "Did anyone?"
"I am not the villain of this story, Pyrrha," Lionheart declared. "All that I have done...do you think that it was easy for me as Headmaster of Haven? All of those children...teaching them, nurturing them, guiding them...guiding them down a road that leads only to a pointless death in Ozpin's war."
"You...you're blaming Professor Ozpin?" Pyrrha demanded, her voice incredulous. "You're blaming Professor Ozpin for...for giving you no choice but to betray him? If we were not both guests of the House of Rutulus I would strike you down this instant."
"If you think that Ozpin cares about you any more than he cares about me you are very much mistaken, young lady," Lionheart snapped.
“Cared,” Pyrrha said coldly.
“Excuse me?”
“Professor Ozpin cared for me,” Pyrrha declared. “And for my teammates and for all his students. He was not the cold and heartless spider you would make of him.” She paused for a moment, her breath catching in her throat at the memory of that night, the broken spectacles and the discarded cane. “But he is dead now, thanks in part to your betrayal.”
Lionheart looked a little guilty, although why he should feel guiltier about forgetting the professor’s death than he should for causing said death, Pyrrha could not fathom. “Of course,” he muttered. “I...I forgot for a moment. You know how it is. Loss-”
“Don’t talk as though you’ve lost something!” Pyrrha snapped. “You don’t have the right! Not after what you’ve done.”
“I did what I must; I had no choice,” Lionheart replied, his voice heating. “Ozpin left me with no choice. Perhaps when you have seen a few of your friends and comrades die to no avail, you will start to understand my actions."
Some of my comrades have already lost friends, and it has only strengthened their resolve. What will you say of Reese? That blood is on your hands more than Professor Ozpin's. "Team Auburn," Pyrrha said. "How did you choose its leader?"
Lionheart looked confused. "I'm sorry?"
"Why did you choose Arslan Altan to be the leader of Team Auburn?" Pyrrha repeated. "Was it because you thought she would fail or because you thought it would be expected that she would lead given her status?" She wasn't sure which would be the better answer for Arslan at this point.
Lionheart hung his head. "Tell Miss Altan that...it was neither. I didn't expect her to be a bad leader, but I did expect...for her to be a lazy one, the sort who wouldn't push her teammates too hard; the kind who wouldn't drag them into the net of Ozpin's attention. Latterly...that felt like the only way I could keep my students safe."
"I see," Pyrrha said, calmly but with evident disapproval in her voice. "I don't expect that answer will make Arslan look well on you."
"No, I don't suppose it will," Lionheart admitted. "But please tell all of my former students that I am glad they're still alive...those who are still alive. This isn't a fight that you can win, Pyrrha. Give up now while there is still time. Salem is not without mercy."
"If she was so very merciful, there would be no war to fight," Pyrrha replied. "Perhaps it is not a battle I can win, but it is one that I must fight nevertheless."
"I see. I...am sorry that you feel that way," Lionheart said. "Good day, Pyrrha Nikos." He bowed his head, and turned to walk away in the direction of one of the outbuildings.
Pyrrha watched him go, her eyes wary. Only when he had gone some distance did she begin to walk towards the gate.
"Hey, Pyrrha!"
Pyrrha turned to see that Turnus' sister Juturna had emerged from...somewhere; she was very close to Pyrrha without Pyrrha having heard her approach. Perhaps she had a stealth semblance that let her go undetected. In any event, she clearly did not mind being detected now. Juturna was about the height of Nora, and shared the dark hair of her elder brother, except that where his was streaked with a smouldering red, the streaks in Juturna's hair were a cool, watery blue; she wore a leather jacket, with fringed tassels dangling from the sleeves, over a t-shirt with a butterfly on it. Her pants were black leather, and her steel-toe capped boots tapped upon the ground a little as she walked towards Pyrrha.
"Juturna," Pyrrha said, bowing her head. "I'm sorry that I couldn't stay long enough to see you."
"Well, we're seeing each other now, aren't we?" Juturna replied brightly. "Congratulations on getting the ring, by the way."
"Thank you."
"And it is a nice ring, isn't it?" Juturna continued. "Not the fanciest ring ever, but-"
"It's an heirloom of Jaune's family," Pyrrha explained.
"Sentimental value, nice," Juturna remarked, nodding her head. She looked up into Pyrrha's face. "I really do mean all of this. Turnus is...well, yeah; but I'm happy for you, truly." Juturna beamed, her bright blue eyes lighting up. "You've found your fairy tale, haven't you?"
"I suppose I have." Pyrrha replied evenly. "Juturna...why are you sheltering Lionheart here?"
Juturna was silent for a moment. "Pyrrha...is there anyone that you would do absolutely anything for, anyone at all?"
"Anything?" Pyrrha asked. "No."
Juturna's eyebrows rose. "No. Really? No one at all."
"No."
"Not even the boy who gave you that ring?"
"There are some things I wouldn't do even for Jaune," Pyrrha said. "And Jaune would never ask me to do those things in any case."
"The people I care about wouldn't ask me to do some things either, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't do them if it was for their own good," Juturna replied. "And with the help of my new friends, I will make a better world for them. You've got your fairy tale, Pyrrha; now let me have mine."
Pyrrha sucked in a sharp intake of breath. "You're the one serving Salem, not your brother."
Juturna snorted. "Please. I am the blood of Old Mistral just as much as you; I don’t serve anyone. That ugly old hag is working for me."
"Please tell me you're not so stupid as to believe that," Pyrrha murmured.
"If you're just going to insult me..." Juturna said, but she was still smiling as she clapped her hands together, causing the gate to slide open once more. "I don't bear you any ill will, Pyrrha; I wish you a long and happy life with blondie. Just stay out of my way, okay? Stay out of my way, and we won't have any trouble at all."



Neptune’s mother still kept the death masks in the hall. 
Neptune hated the sight of them, all those clay faces with candles burning in their open mouths like tongues of fire. He’d always hated them, ever since he was a kid and they had creeped him out, but at the same time, whenever he was here, it was like he couldn’t tear his eyes away from them. Especially not the ones he knew: his grandparents, Dad, Jupiter. He couldn’t help but look at their faces in particular, the clay faces giving way to the real ones that existed in his memory…but every bit as lifeless as the masks, and still with the flames burning in their mouths. 
He really, really didn’t like this place. Not one little bit. 
But Pyrrha had asked him to come here and make one more appeal to his mother for help; Neptune had little hope that she would have changed her mind since the last time he was here, but he couldn’t refuse. Not when Pyrrha asked. Especially since he got the impression that she was also going somewhere she didn’t really want to go today.
“Young lord?”
The voice of one of the serving maids, though it was timorous, was enough to tear his eyes away from those awful masks upon the wall. She bobbed up and down in a curtsy. “The mistress will see you now.”
Neptune nodded. He didn’t smile or flirt; there was a good chance that they might have gone along with it every bit as far as he wanted simply because he wanted it, and that…that was creepier than it was fun in his opinion, so he always tried to be professional with the staff. Polite, but professional. “Lead the way,” he said, his voice becoming a little hoarse. 
“Yes, young lord,” the maid said, turning away and leaving him to follow behind her as she led him into the house. Neptune ran one hand through his hair as he went, brushing his blue fringe back up into its proper shape as he was conveyed into one of the sitting rooms, with a garden set in the centre of the room hived off with panes of glass. A red settee sat just before the garden, and upon that sofa sat his mother. 
Gaia Vasilias was dressed in black, a stola of mourning draped over her head and shoulders, almost covering her bouffant blue curls. The way the shadows of the stola fell across her face, she seemed almost like some cave dwelling creature, tentatively emerging from the darkness. It was a terrible way to think of your mother, but at the same time, in these circumstances…as nervous as he was, it was all that Neptune could think of. 
Her blue eyes were like ice as they fixed upon her son, and Neptune was very glad that he had fastened his top collar button and tightened his tie before he came here, even if he did feel as though he was being strangled in consequence. 
“Neptune,” Gaia said, her voice betraying nothing. 
“Hey, Mom,” Neptune muttered, trying to resist the urge to look at his feet. 
“Have you come to your senses and abandoned this insurrection?” Gaia demanded.
“It’s not an insurrection,” Neptune said. “I wish you wouldn’t keep calling it that, and no, I haven’t left.”
“Then what are you doing here?” she asked. “What is there to say?”
“I’m here…” I’m here to give you another chance to do the right thing. “I’m here to ask for your help.”
He could feel his mother’s eyebrows rising, for all that he couldn’t see them because of the shadows on her face. He could hear the edge of contempt in her voice perfectly well. “My help,” she repeated, slowly, as though she might have misheard him. “You want me to help you, to help Pyrrha Nikos.”
“I’d like for you to help the Kingdom of Mistral,” Neptune said.
Gaia snorted. “Pyrrha Nikos and her band of followers – of which, to our shame, you are one – are a far greater danger to the Kingdom of Mistral than the grimm or any brigand chief.”
“What?” Neptune yelled, as for a moment his surprise overcame his nerves. “How can you…that’s just wrong on so many levels I’m astounded you can say it with a straight face. In what world is that even remotely close to true? All that Pyrrha and I and all of us have done is defend the settlements from attack. Yesterday, I was at Leuctris, a village that we used to rule in the old days, a village that we still own, and we saved it because no one else would.”
“Villages can be rebuilt or new settlements founded to take their place,” Gaia said.
“Can villagers be brought back from the dead?” Neptune snapped.
“But the principles of a free commonwealth cannot be restored once they have been tarnished,” Gaia continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “Pyrrha’s prestige amongst the people was already dangerously great; now her legend grows with every victory won by her forces.”
“She earns it,” Neptune said. Maybe other people should try getting off their behinds and doing something before they start complaining.
“Who appointed her to this charge?” Gaia asked. “Where is her authority from the Council?”
“The Council isn’t doing anything.”
“The Council must keep what strength remains to it close at hand, lest defending the outlying villages leave the city vulnerable. If you truly cared for the Kingdom of Mistral, you would drive a knife through the back of Pyrrha Nikos, not protect that back in battle.”
For a moment Neptune thought that he must have misheard his mother; for a moment, he thought that he must have been mistaken in thinking that she had just so cavalierly discussed the murder of an innocent young woman, and one who was considered a hero by so many no less. Until he realised that he had not misheard, and the fact that Pyrrha was considered a hero by many was exactly the reason why his mother would prefer to see her dead. 
“Gods, you mean it, don’t you?” Neptune said. “Grimm at the gates, and your biggest worry is the one person in this whole kingdom who is doing something about it.”
“My concern – and the concern of many other wise men and women of good family in Mistral – is with the woman who commands an army as strong as any in in the land, whose name the common people cheer in the streets as they adorn it with the title ‘princess,’ who bestrides the world like a colossus while all the rest must creep about around her feet to find ourselves dishonourable graves. My concern is that the heir to the throne of Mistral has raised a force as strong as any in the city even as she demands that the Council disperse its forces across the breadth of the kingdom. My concern is that Pyrrha Nikos could reclaim the throne any time she wished merely by stretching out her hand for it.”
“That’s...absurd,” Neptune said. “Pyrrha isn’t planning a coup or plotting to take the throne of Mistral; she’s just trying to do the right thing, since it seems that nobody else will.”
“And when the crisis has passed, what then?”
“Then we’ll all go home, if you’ll let me through the door. And even if she did have some ulterior motive, then so what? It’s not as if things are working brilliantly the way they are right now!”
Gaia rose to her feet. “Have you no shame? No sense of dignity at all that you have become one of her spear-carriers? Your brother would never have descended to such a level of ignominy.”
Neptune closed his eyes. It always comes back to this, doesn’t it? “Jupiter would have done what was right,” he said. And you would have loved him for it, just like everyone else.
“Yes,” Gaia said. “He would have.” She didn’t give Neptune a chance to remark that he and his mother had quite different ideas on what was right. “When you are ready to truly stand for this kingdom, then you may return to this house. Until then, while you are still a servant to the would-be Empress, don’t bother coming back here again.”
Neptune scowled. He didn’t want to do this, but she wasn’t leaving him with much choice. He’d committed himself, pledged himself; Sun, Scarlet, Sage, all those guys were willing to risk everything to do the right thing; how could he do less? “Fine,” he muttered. “See you around, Mom.” He turned away and walked briskly out of the room and back to the hallway, where the eerie death masks watched him with the flames flickering in their eyes. 
Jupiter seemed to be watching him. His elder brother had been the real deal, everything that Neptune tried to be, Jupiter had embodied for real. Girls wanted him, guys wanted to be him, heads turned as he walked down the street; people thought he was going to restore Haven’s honour in the Vytal Festival. But then...that mission; the grimm had been far more numerous than expected; the fate of a huntsman. 
Now his brother was nothing more than a mask on the wall; it wasn’t even a particularly good likeness, but Neptune could see his brother’s face there anyway, staring silently. 
You would have done the same. 
I hope so, anyway.
“Goodbye, bro,” Neptune said, as he walked out of the door.
Somewhat to his surprise, he found Ditzy Doo waiting for him outside. 
“Hey, Neptune,” Ditzy said. She must have noted the look on his face - and it must have been a transparent look - because her face fell. “It didn’t go so well, huh?”
“You could say that,” Neptune murmured. “What are you doing here anyway?”
“Sun told me that you and your family have...that it wasn’t great between you,” Ditzy admitted. “So I thought that maybe you wouldn’t want to be alone afterwards.”
Neptune was surprised. He didn’t think that he and the Atlesian girl were that close, or close at all for that matter. He liked her, and she had saved his life, but all the same, he was surprised. “Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate that.”
Ditzy smiled, and for the first time, Neptune noticed what a cute smile she had; it really made her whole face light up. She patted him on the shoulder. “Anything I can do to help,” she said.



General Li Park was not a particularly big place; in fact, it was downright small compared to some of the public parks further up the mountain, but this little green space sandwiched between the wooden fences had been the only open space around when Arslan had been growing up, and it still held a little bit of nostalgic charm for her as she leapt lightly over the fence and felt the grass crumple beneath her shoes. 
She glanced around, looking for Kurt; instead, she saw a couple of teenagers making out under the shade of the tree that stood in the far corner of the park, while some younger kids kicked a ball around; and an older man walked a jack russell terrier around the perimeter. 
“Yo, A-bomb!”
Arslan turned to see Kurt Beyaz leap the fence, just as Arslan had done just a moment before, to crush the grass under her. The White Wolf of Mistral was taller than Arslan - only by an inch, but that inch had meant a great deal when they were kids - with dark skin and silver-grey hair, of which only the edge of her bangs was visible beneath the gladiatorial regalia in which she was attired: she wore a white wolf head for a helmet, her head seeming to emerge from in between the dead beast’s jaws, while she wore the rest of the pelt like a coat, the forelegs fastened to the black vambraces she wore around her wrists; her cuirass was black and trimmed with fur, and across her back was slung a club with a single edge of serrated blades emerging from one side. 
Arslan grinned. “K-fang,” she said, holding out her right fist. Kurt bumped it with her own. “How have you been?”
“The fact that you even have to ask is a sign that something’s wrong,” Kurt declared. “Remember when we said we were going to be best friends for life?”
“We were kids,” Arslan said. “And besides, it’s not like we’re mortal enemies.”
“I remember when I used to come over to your place when my mom had to work, and you came over to mine sometimes for the same reason; we’d watch cartoons and play board games,” Kurt replied. “Now you have to ask me how I am because you haven’t seen me in months.”
“You haven’t seen me either,” Arslan said. “Don’t put all of this on me. We grew up, we moved out of the neighbourhood; things change.”
“Things change like you prefer hanging out with princesses now.”
Arslan rolled her eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t call me so you could get on my back about the fact that P-money and I are friends now.”
“I remember when you hated her.”
“I’ve grown up a lot recently,” Arslan replied. “Seriously, Kurt, how have you been?”
“I’m okay,” Kurt said casually. “I really thought last year was going to be my year in the tournament, you know?”
“I thought last year was going to be your year, too,” Arslan said. She grinned. “Pyrrha and I practically gift-wrapped that title for you, but you just couldn’t close the deal, could you? No, in all seriousness, I saw the final; you got seriously unlucky.”
“Or Michael had some serious luck,” Kurt said. “Which amounts to the same thing, I suppose. Do you want to sit?”
Arslan nodded, and they both sat on the fence - there were no benches in this park, so they didn’t have a lot of choice - perched slightly awkwardly upon the wooden rails like oversized birds. Arslan found that it was not quite as comfortable sitting here - or she was less able to put up with discomfort - as it had been when she’d been younger. Both of them found their eyes drawn towards the romantic teens. 
“Brings back memories, huh?” Kurt said.
Arslan snorted. “Memories for you, maybe.”
“Yeah, that’s right; you never had any luck in that regard, did you?”
“I was too busy training,” Arslan said defensively. “The difference is why one of us hovered about third to seventh place in an average year, and one of us-”
“Is a perpetual second?” Kurt said.
“Still better than you usually manage,” Arslan replied, prompting a laugh out of Kurt. “Anyway, how’s Mako?”
“How’s Mako? Mako and I broke up like a year ago,” Kurt answered.
“Really? We need to meet up more often,” Arslan muttered. “Or one of us could call, I suppose.” Or we could just admit that we’re not friends any more and stop pretending.
“What you need to do,” Kurt said, her tone becoming more earnest. “Is get out of that house.”
“Pyrrha’s house?” Arslan said.
Kurt nodded. 
“Why?” Arslan asked. “And what’s it to you?”
“I’ve got a new job,” Kurt said.
Arslan frowned. “You’re quitting the arena? You didn’t even want to attend Haven for a shot at the Vytal Festival because you wanted to focus on the regionals, and now you’re walking away?”
“I’m taking a sabbatical,” Kurt said.
“To do what?”
Kurt hesitated for a moment. “Lady Ming has hired me to raise a company of fighting men.”
There was a moment’s pause while Arslan waited for a punchline that didn’t come. “You...seriously? Are you...are you kidding me with this?”
“I’m telling you-”
“I asked for your help!” Arslan snapped. “I asked you to come and help me out, protect Mistral, do something important for once, and you told me to jump off the hillside! Pyrrha and I weren’t good enough for you, but oh, Lady Ming?”
“Lady Ming doesn’t expect me to work for nothing,” Kurt replied.
“I’m sure that all the kids who idolise you would be thrilled to know that you won’t lift a finger unless you’re getting paid for it.”
“Get off my back!” Kurt snapped. “I don’t care what the fans think; I’ve got a skill, and I’m entitled to make money off it. Now I asked you here as a favour to let you know what’s up; are you going to listen, or are you going to sit there on your high horse?”
Arslan folded her arms. “So what does Lady Ming want with an armed company? She tried to get us outlawed in council not too long ago.”
Kurt shrugged. “You know what they say: if you can’t beat them, join them.”
 “Then beat them with your new private army, I suppose,” Arslan muttered. “So she wants a company of fighting men. Who is she planning to fight?”
“Who do you think, A-bomb?” Kurt said.
Arslan’s eyes widened. “Pyrrha?”
“And you, all of you,” Kurt said. “I mean, she talks about fighting Atlas too, but I think...I don’t really know how much of what she says to take seriously. But she’s seriously worried about you guys. She says that she needs swords of her own around her in case you guys try anything.”
“We’re not going to try anything,” Arslan said. “You don’t really believe we’re planning to take over the kingdom, do you? Or do you just not care, so long as you get paid?”
“If I could get paid without having to fight you, that would be great,” Kurt replied. “But...the fact is you could take over the kingdom, or give it a good try at least, and that worries me almost as much as it worries Lady Ming. Mistral isn’t perfect, but that doesn’t mean I want to go back to the old days.”
“Pyrrha’s not like that.”
“Then why doesn’t she submit to the Council?”
“Submit how?”
“I don’t know,” Kurt admitted. “But if the Council were to offer to make Pyrrha legit, like a soldier, would she agree to it?”
Arslan hesitated. That would depend on how much control they wanted to have over her. She wouldn’t give up her freedom to act against Salem to people who don’t know that there’s a danger to face. “I don’t know.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“I know her heart,” Arslan said. “She hasn’t got a malicious bone in her body; Pyrrha will never act against the best interests of Mistral, and neither will I.”
“That’s...very vague.”
“That’s the best I can do for you at the moment,” Arslan admitted.
“If you mean that,” Kurt said, with a sigh, “then you and I might have a problem.”
“Because defending the helpless is such a terrible thing?” Arslan demanded. “I’ve seen what’s out there beyond the walls of Mistral; I had to bury a teammate back at Vale. Villages are coming under attack, and you’re worried about Pyrrha? How about you worry about the person who wants to go to war with Atlas? I mean, seriously, people are still on that?”
“I hope she’s not serious about that.”
“And if she is?”
“Then I’ll quit when it becomes an issue, but in the meantime, the bigger problem is you people.”
“The people protecting the kingdom?”
“The people running around answerable to nobody,” Kurt said. “Arslan, you know how this works: huntsmen, tournament fighters, we don’t get to form guilds like this is some kind of game. If you wanted to start something-”
“We don’t.”
“Nobody could stop you,” Kurt finished. “That’s why Lady Ming came to me. I don’t want to fight you, but...I won’t let Pyrrha Nikos take this city over like it’s her inheritance.”
“It’s not going to happen,” Arslan repeated.
“If that’s true,” Kurt replied, “then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”



Jaune sat in the study that he and Pyrrha shared, a blank sheet of paper in front of him. 
He was trying to write a letter to Saphron in Argus; there was a mail courier leaving tomorrow, so he’d better get something down, or he would have to wait until there was another courier willing to risk the northward journey, and they were pretty irregular these days.
Everyone had gotten so used to having the CCT network, and Mistral was still figuring how to get by without it. And with the Argus Limited having been robbed once already during its journey across the long and pretty lawless stretch of land between the two cities, even the train was starting to seen like a risky option in today’s unsafe world. Couriers had stepped into the breach to carry messages between cities and towns - and beyond; some were willing to fly north to Atlas - but it was a long way to Argus, and you couldn’t always find someone making the trip exactly when you wanted them.
That was why he hadn’t written to his sister yet. That was his excuse, anyway. 
Jaune was sure, pretty sure, mostly pretty sure, that Saphron and Terra were fine in Argus itself; the city was pretty well protected, what with the walls and the harbour shield and the Atlesian military base in the bay. 
But he should have written to them by now. And at this point - with no emergencies and with Pyrrha out visiting some guy for help - he’d run out of excuses for putting it off. 
Jaune picked up his pen, and scratched his head briefly as he wondered how to start. 
Dear Saphron,
I know that I should have written to you before now, and I’m sorry. I could say that things have been pretty hectic around here - and they have been - but that’s not really much of an excuse. I could have found five minutes to write you something. I guess I wasn’t really sure what to say.
I hope that you’re okay. You and Terra and Adrian, too. Most of the Atlesian troops went home after the towers went down, but from what I hear, the ones at Argus are still there. At least that was the last thing I heard, but that was a little while ago. I hope that’s true, because if that’s true, then I don’t have to worry. Stay within the walls, and you’ll be safe. 
What’s Terra doing with the network down? Are they working to get it back up? I’m not trying to pry; actually, yes I am. We’re starved for information down here, and anything that you can let us know - without getting in trouble, obviously - would be great to hear. Are they working to get the towers back up? Do you know anything more in Argus about what’s happening up north than we do here?
I never quite realised how much we relied upon the CCT until it wasn’t there anymore. I guess that’s the way with a lot of things, isn’t it?
At least I can get this letter to you. I’m not sure how I’d even start to get in touch with Mom and Dad and everyone back home. We know even less about what’s going on in Vale than we do about Atlas, and considering how little we know about what’s happening in Atlas, that says a lot. 
You might be wondering how it is that I’m able to write this to you. Well, as you might have worked out by now, I’m in Mistral. With Pyrrha. 
I asked her to marry me.
And she said yes.
I still can’t believe that I actually had the guts to do it. 
I’m going to marry Pyrrha Nikos!
I am the luckiest guy ever. I still can’t quite believe what she sees in me, but I’m not going to question it. 
You might think that this is sudden; I know that you waited longer to ask Terra, but it’s been pointed out to me that we don’t know how much time we’ll have. Things are pretty bad around here; there are grimm and bandits, and Pyrrha’s fighting back as hard as she can. She’s the strongest person I know but all the same, none of us know what the future holds. 
Which is an argument for having the wedding as quickly as possible, I guess. We haven’t talked about that yet. I only proposed last night. I see why we ought to marry quickly, but at the same time, it would feel weird to get married with none of my family or our best friends here. 
But I don’t want to leave it too late. 
If you had told me that when I ran off to Beacon that I would end up defending Mistral from the dark alongside a girl I love, I would have said that you were nuts. There are a lot of things that have happened to me that I wouldn’t change for anything, but there are also times when I miss the days when my biggest problem was that my sisters wouldn’t stop bugging me. 
But since we can’t go back, I guess we have to keep moving forward. 
Stay safe, Sis, and give Adrian a hug from Uncle Jaune.
Love,
Jaune



“Thank you for coming, councillors,” Lady Nikos said. “Please, take a seat,” she added, as she gestured with one hand to the red velvet armchairs that she had ordered brought to her study in anticipation of their arrival. 
Councillor Cicero Ward the Elder clasped his hands together before him as he bowed his head. “Thank you for your hospitality, my lady,” he murmured as he took his seat on the left. The councillor was a small man, with black hair cut down and greying slightly at the temples, a slender frame and a narrow face. He had come to politics from the law in which he had made his name, and he still dressed like a lawyer in a well-tailored suit and a dark tie.
Councillor Timur Kiyat smiled at her as he took the seat on the right. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Hippolyta. It has been far too long since last we spoke.” Timur was a swarthy man, tall and powerfully built even as he grew older, with a heavy brow, a thick moustache, and a beard that covered his jawline. Both his cheeks were scarred and lined, for his path to the council had run not through the law but through the arena, as he had been a popular fighter in the tournament circuit once upon a time; in fact, he and Lady Nikos had even been rivals there once. Now, he was as retired as she was and dressed in rich robes of royal blue trimmed with scarlet and adorned with golden patterns; a white cape hung from off his shoulders. 
Lady Nikos waited for them both to be seated before she herself took her seat on the other side of the desk. She gestured to the maid standing unobtrusively besides the wall, and the girl stepped forward and poured three cups of tea from the pot on the table between them. Once that was done, the maid retreated, leaving the three of them alone in the study. 
“Councillor Ward, Councillor Kiyat,” Lady Nikos said. “I am sure you can guess why I invited you into my home.”
“The state of Mistral,” Cicero the Elder murmured.
“Precisely, Councillor Ward,” Lady Nikos replied. “My daughter and her companions have done heroic work these last few months, as I hope you will agree, but they cannot defend Mistral alone. Though their hearts may burn as bright as ever, the resources of our house are not unlimited.”
“You need money,” Timur said bluntly.
“Men would be helpful, money essential,” Lady Nikos said. “Pyrrha has gone to speak to young Lord Rutulus to ask for both; I do not count upon her being successful.”
“Rutulian Security is active,” Timur told her. “For a price.”
“A price that many villages cannot afford, as I understand,” Lady Nikos said.
“Perhaps, but it shows the kind of attitude you're dealing with,” Timur said. “I wouldn’t expect much more from a personal appeal.”
“I sympathise with your position, Lady Nikos, but I’m not sure what you expect us to do about it,” Cicero the Elder said. “The Lord Steward wishes to keep the Council’s huntsman close, and with the kingdom suffering such a dearth of them at the moment, there are no others that could be found.”
“You should have stayed on the council, Hippolyta,” Timur said. “If you had, it might be that we’d have the three votes you want now.”
“Or perhaps I would have been voted off at some point between then and now,” Lady Nikos replied. She had served on the Council after her retirement from the arena, her name getting her elected as much as her policies or her ability. Looking back with a clear eye, she could see that she had not been a particularly able Councillor, accomplishing little except to keep the kingdom sailing along on its predetermined course; she had mostly gone into politics out of a combination of a sense of obligation and a desire to find something to take her mind off the failure of her martial ambitions and, later, the death of her husband. She had retired when it became clear just what a prodigious talent Pyrrha was, to devote herself full-time to her daughter’s education. “Or I would have as many enemies but have taken the place of one of my allies. I am content to be glad that we have at least some friends in the Council chamber.” She glanced at Timur. “On some issues, at least.”
The smile did not waver from Timur’s face. “I support what you’re doing to defend the outer territories - I’d better; it’s where my income comes from - but I’m not your servant to agree with you on everything.”
“I would hope that good sense alone would lead you to conclude the folly of seeking a confrontation with Atlas,” Cicero the Elder remarked acidly.
“I have nothing against the Kingdom of Atlas in principle,” Timur declared. “What I don’t like, why I backed sending an expedition to Vale, why I’m backing punitive measures now, is getting treated like a servingman. Like that maid you just sent away with a snap of your fingers.” He picked up his tea from off the table, savoured the aroma rising from the steaming cup for a moment, and then took a long sip. “Very good,” he pronounced it. “Are we not Mistral?”
“I yield to no one in my pride in this kingdom and its history,” Lady Nikos said. “A history in which my family has played a prominent part. But to invite a war with Atlas, at a time like this...have we not enemies enough infesting our territory without inviting more of them?”
“Especially after the disaster that resulted from our attempt at a show of force against them,” Cicero the Elder noted.
“With hindsight-” Timur began.
“How about with a little foresight?” Cicero the Elder demanded.
“Sending our forces to Vale was a mistake,” Timur conceded. “Or at least sending forces made up of conscripts was. A smaller force of huntsmen might have been more impressive...if the huntsmen could have been found. In any case, it doesn’t change the fact that we hold far more cards in our relationship with Atlas than they would like us to think. We’re sitting on all the food.”
Lady Nikos sipped some of her own tea. “I must confess, Timur, my sense of honour recoils from the idea of attempting to starve into submission a people who have done us neither harm nor wrong. On the contrary, Pyrrha fought side by side with the Atlesian forces at the Battle of Vale, and at the Breach before that.”
“And it doesn’t revolt you that they took all the credit for the Breach?” Timur asked. “As they are almost certainly taking all the credit for the Battle of Vale, Atlas being what it is; would either of you care to make a wager with me that when the tower network is restored we will find that all of Mistral’s heroes have been airbrushed from the record so that it will seem that Atlas alone saved the Kingdom of Vale?”
“That is a fool’s wager, I would not bet against such an outcome,” Cicero conceded.
“Then how can you not be infuriated by it?” Timur demanded.
Lady Nikos was silent for a moment. “Mistral knows what my Pyrrha has done,” she said. “And Mistral will remember.”
“All this talk of pride and honour is all very well,” Cicero the Elder said, “but the blunt fact of the matter is that to invite confrontation with Atlas is to invite ruin. Suppose that we did embargo grain, and then they sent their fleet to collect it, what then?”
“What then indeed?” Timur asked. “Are Atlesian androids going to gather in the harvest?”
“I did not ask you here to debate the positives of taking a stand against Atlas,” Lady Nikos reminded them both, “but to ask how we might increase support in the council for a stand against the forces presently menacing the very survival of so many of our outlying communities.”
“Perhaps if you did support taking a stand against Atlas then Lady Ming would reciprocate by supporting you?” Timur suggested. “I’ve spoken to her several times; she’s not unreasonable. She fears that Pyrrha’s strength may soon be turned against Mistral itself.”
“That is ridiculous,” Lady Nikos declared.
“Not to some on the Council, unfortunately,” Cicero the Elder said.
“I’d be a little worried myself, if my fear for my lands didn’t outweigh it,” Timur said, with remarkable candour. “But, if it looked as though Pyrrha’s strength might be turned against Atlas-”
“Absolutely not,” Lady Nikos said. “I can tell you both at once that Pyrrha would never consent to fight against Atlas, or even to risk that it might come to that, not after all she has been through side by side with the Atlesians, and the friendships she has forged with them.”
“I am glad to hear it, or I would wonder if I was on the right side,” Cicero the Elder muttered. “Lady Ming might be content with Pyrrha and the rest embracing her madness, but the Lord Steward would prefer your daughter accepting some sort of Council authority over her.”
Lady Nikos leaned back in her chair. “Has he broached that notion to you?”
“No, but I do not think that he will be too proud to accept any offer that I brook to him,” Cicero the Elder replied. “The question is: will it be accepted?”
“I can make no promises on Pyrrha’s behalf,” Lady Nikos cautioned him. Indeed, she was genuinely uncertain as to how Pyrrha would react to the idea of surrendering her autonomy. She was not a natural rebel against the structures of the state, but she might fear to be tied down too tightly; in truth, that was a concern of Lady Nikos, too; accepting the Council’s authority might turn into doing nothing if the Council continued to vacillate as it had done. On the other hand, with Lord Thrax on board, that was three votes in Council. “She would need to hear the terms.”
“But I may approach the Steward in good faith?” he asked.
“You may,” Lady Nikos said. “And I think I can say that you may do so with both our blessings.”



Pyrrha returned home with a sickly feeling of discomfort squirming in her stomach, and half her thoughts left behind at the house of the Rutuli. She could scarcely believe it, although she found that when she tried to think about why she found it so hard to believe, it said some things about her that...well, perhaps they did not paint her in the best light. After all, Salem had been making use of well-placed traitors ever since Pyrrha had become drawn into these events and before: Cinder, Amber, Lionheart; why not Juturna also? The answer, somewhat uncomfortably to Pyrrha's sense of self-awareness, was that Juturna was of her class; it seemed that, for all that she become frustrated with the inaction of the Council, she had not wanted to believe that the values of the Mistralian elite could become so degraded that one of their number would sell out their kingdom to Salem in exchange for...what? What did Juturna hope to gain by this? She had been very vague, and that was almost certainly deliberate, when they had briefly spoken; what was more, Pyrrha didn't know whether she could - or wished to - believe some of the things that Juturna had said to her. Did she really believe that she was using Salem and not the other way around? Was she that...Pyrrha could think of several words to describe her but some of them were not particularly polite. Her brother had appeared to be ignorant of what was really going on; could the same be said of her companions?
That is not so hard to believe, I suppose. We were all ignorant of what Sunset had done for us, after all.
A traitor in the heart of Mistral. Sheltering Lionheart, working with Salem...the fact that, as far as she could tell, Juturna hadn't done anything yet beyond take Lionheart into her brother's house did not make the situation any better in Pyrrha's eyes. Pyrrha wracked her brain trying to think of anything that had occurred in Mistral that might be attributed to the designs of Salem and came up with nothing, although that might be a sign more of her lack of imagination than to the inactivity of her enemies; she would perhaps have considered Turnus' inactivity to be a sign of Juturna's influence had not Turnus been able to make his own immoral case with such conviction. Even worse was that she had absolutely no idea what she ought to or could do about it. Lionheart was her enemy, and if Juturna really was in league with Salem, then she was Pyrrha's enemy too, but what of that? Pyrrha couldn't take her followers, storm the Rutuli house, and kill them both; to do so, she would not only have to kill Turnus and Camilla and doubtless many of their followers who were innocent of any part in this shadow war, but also, she would sink at once to the level of all those who said that she and her followers were nothing more than a private army for her own benefit. Not to mention that Mistral was still a city under the rule of law, and to commit such a flagrant act of violence without cause would bring that law down upon her and her comrades and leave her the unenviable choice of surrendering before its majesty or rebelling against it. But, in truth, even had the law collapsed and the police been wished away, Pyrrha would have hesitated to take this step. She did not wish to be the first to spill civil blood in the streets of her home, nor to debase the honour of her comrades and their noble enterprise by reducing them to the level of a gang of Valish street toughs. And yet, short of violence, what could she do? Juturna had committed no crime for which Pyrrha could set the law on her - the same, unfortunately, could be said of Lionheart - not without revealing certain truths too widely by far. What, then, could she do?
Professor, Sunset, what am I supposed to do now?
She stopped, her eyes drawn to two pieces of graffiti which adorned the buildings on either side of the street down which she walked, both depictions of her, although the quality of the likeness...it was mostly the hair that gave it away: on one side, she wore a crown; on the other side of the road, someone who looked a lot like Neptune was slitting her throat with the word ‘LIBERTY’ in block capitals scrawled underneath. 
Pyrrha sighed, if only softly. It was unfortunate that the city seemed to be divided between those who feared that she would seize power and those who hoped she would do just that. Why more people couldn’t take her stated intentions at face value was something she did not entirely understand. 
There was nothing to be done about it, as there was nothing to be done about so much else. Nothing except wait for the current crisis to pass and then disband her forces, thus proving that there had never been anything to fear from her. 
Her road home took her, as well as slightly down the city slopes, through a marketplace. Pyrrha had left early enough that it had been nearly deserted, but it was a little later in the morning now, and the square had filled up with men and women in the colourful attire of Mistral, pressed in riots of gold and green and aquamarine around the wooden stalls selling flowers, swords, sweets, spices, and all manner of other such things. The place was crowded, but it was not packed, and lost in her own thoughts as she was, Pyrrha had no difficulty in navigating the press of people out today. They all seemed so happy, so carefree: people laughed and talked and walked hand in hand as though there were no clouds in the sky. And it was a good thing. It meant that what she and her friends were doing was having an impact, and it gave her comfort despite everything. As she walked through the square, she was not blind to the way that the gazes of the people around her were drawn to her, the way that their whispers followed her, 'This is she! This is Pyrrha Nikos!' She did not particularly care for it, but at this point, she had only herself to blame: she had chosen to place herself in the public eye thus, and she could hardly on the one hand set out to make Mistral feel safe and then complain when people paid attention to her efforts.
"Pyrrha!" a young girl cried as she darted into Pyrrha's path, dragging a younger girl behind her by the hand, deaf to the cries of a woman - presumably their mother - who tried to stop them. Pyrrha looked down at them, and it occurred that she had met these two before, at a fan event of some kind...if only she could remember their names...Diana and Selene! Yes, that was it, she remembered because their names both evoked moonlight. Diana and Selene...she couldn't remember their family, unfortunately.
"Hello there," she said. "It's Diana and Selene, isn't it?"
Selene gasped. "You remembered!"
"I told you she would," Diana insisted.
Pyrrha smiled the well-worn smile of a champion as she knelt down - the metal of her greave tapped lightly upon the stone - so that she was closer to the two girls. "And what can I do for you this morning?"
"Dad says the reason you're not on TV anymore is that you're doing something important," Diana said. "You're protecting all of us. Is that true?"
Pyrrha nodded softly. "Yes," she said. "Your father is telling the truth about that."
"Does that mean we're in danger?" asked Selene.
The clamour in the market seemed quieter now, as if people far older than these two girls were waiting upon the answer to the question. It was for that reason that Pyrrha raised her voice as she answered, so that the answer would carry beyond their young ears. "No," she declared. "You're not in any danger, because my friends and I - it's not just me, it's Arslan too and many other fine people - will do everything we must, and pay any price we must, even our lives, to keep you safe. So sleep soundly and have pleasant dreams."
The two girls gazed at her, starry eyed, as their mother approached and took them both by the hand. "Come along, you two. I'm sorry to bother you, Lady Pyrrha."
Autumn, you have much to answer for. Pyrrha climbed to her feet. "It's quite alright, and you need not-"
"Gods bless you, Lady Pyrrha!" a man called from out of the crowd; Pyrrha turned to look but did not see where the voice had come from.
"Blessings be upon the true Champion of Mistral!" cried another man.
"Praise you, my lady, and all who fight beside you."
Like water released from behind a dam, their acclaim deluged down upon Pyrrha from all sides. She had heard sentiments like these before, when she returned from the battlefield, but now, perhaps because it seemed so much more spontaneous, it touched her more than it did then. As they sought to raise her skyward with their adulation, Pyrrha felt a tear spring to her eye. She glanced down at the two little girls, now being held onto her by their mother. She glanced around the market square, full of people placing their hopes for a safe and stable and a normal life upon the shoulders of herself and her companions. She could not let Juturna bring death and misery to this place, these people, nor even let her assist Salem in doing the same.
You asked me not to get in your way, Juturna, but your way gives me no choice. She still didn't have a plan, but as she resumed - with one last wave of her hand - her journey homeward, Pyrrha found that her sense of hopelessness had been replaced by one of urgency. She would have Ren watch the Rutulus house; perhaps she might even go further and ask if he was willing to try and burgle the place for any clue as to Juturna's intentions. Only if he thought he could do it safely and stealthily and without being apprehended; Nora would never forgive Pyrrha if she sent him into too great a danger alone. But he could certainly watch, and report what he saw. Then...and then...Pyrrha wasn't sure what else, but Jaune would know. Once she told her closest friends what she had learned, then Jaune would know what to do.
She arrived back home to find a stranger waiting before her gates, just as she had waited before Turnus' doors. It was a girl, about Pyrrha's age and dressed very much like Pyrrha, which was to say that her armour - a linothorax cuirass - was designed as much to accentuate the beauty of her lithe and slender form as it was to protect her; although it had shoulder pauldrons, it also had a sweetheart neckline and nothing at all beyond that point. Her forearms were covered by silver vambraces, while a skirt of studded leather pteruges hung from her waist down to her knees, at which point, a pair of silver greaves took up the duty. Upon her face, she wore an M-shaped headpiece that protected her brow, nose, and cheeks but left her hair - which was incredibly long and voluminous, reaching down to her waist in rippling waves of blue and green so that it resembled the ocean surging against the shores of Anima – free to flow unobstructed. Her eyes, which Pyrrha saw more clearly as the girl turned at her approach, were purple and accentuated by the smokey eye-shadow applied above them. In one hand, she lightly held a pair of light javelins, while across her back was slung a crescent-shaped shield with a golden horseshoe painted upon it and a two-handed sword with a long handle and an even longer blade that curved gently towards the tip; upon her right hip, she bore a horn, cut from the head of some proud and noble beast, tipped with silver and wound about with ancient runes.
As Pyrrha approached - and as she became aware of Pyrrha's approach - she knelt down in the street before her. "Pyrrha Nikos, it is an honour to meet you. My name is Swift Foot Thrax, daughter of Lord Diomedes, and I have come to join you in your noble cause."
That was a lot to take in from a single sentence - especially on top of everything else that was on her mind - and Pyrrha paused a moment to digest it. "Lord Diomedes? You are the Steward's daughter?" The House of Thrax had been prominent and powerful since the golden age of Mistral, rising from their power base upon the island of Thrace to contest with Rutulus for second place in Mistral after the House of Nikos, eventually achieving the position of stewards to the emperors themselves. There were no more emperors now, but the stewards remained, and the Lord Thrax possessed one of the two permanent seats on the council, Lionheart holding the other. "Has your father changed his mind about our enterprise, then? And please, rise to your feet; no one should kneel before me."
"Many in Mistral there are who would dispute such modesty," Swift Foot replied, though she rose to her feet all the same. "As for my father," she added, glancing down at the ground for a moment, "I'm afraid he is as cold to your endeavours as he has ever been...but I cannot agree with him. What you do is just and righteous, and you shame us and our noble houses by your actions while we sit idle. I have three older sisters skilled in arms, and my father has a loyal guard at his disposal, but my sisters are content to squat within the palace, letting their swords rust, while my father keeps his guard ringed about him as though it were he, and not our people, menaced by the grimm. Why, even Haven Academy stands empty, its headmaster hidden and deaf to the entreaties of the kingdom. In all of Mistral, there is only you who stands for the realm."
"I do not stand alone, thank goodness," Pyrrha murmured.
"Of course," Swift Foot said. "I meant you and your followers, of whom I would be one. I cannot sit idle, not while Mistral bleeds and burns and suffers. If you are the only one who will fight for this kingdom, then I will fight beside you."
Pyrrha pursed her lips together. The House of Thrax had produced some great warriors in the past and recently; Swift Foot's eldest sister, Terri Belle, had graduated top of her class at Haven Academy and reached the one-on-one rounds of the Vytal Festival, where an Atlesian named Robyn Hill had bested her on her way to claim the crown of victory; Lord Diomedes had two other daughters also, each of great repute, if less accomplishment. But Pyrrha had not heard of Swift Foot, whom she took to be the youngest daughter. "How old are you?"
"Seventeen," Swift Foot said. "I would have started Haven this year, but in these times, I would rather fight for Mistral than sit in a classroom."
"I cannot fault you for that," Pyrrha said. "Most of our company here feel the same way, myself included." She held out one hand. "Welcome, Swift Foot Thrax."
Swift Foot smiled, her eyes sparkling a little as, instead of taking Pyrrha's hand, she placed her own upon her heart. "I pledge myself into the service of Pyrrha Nikos. My strength is yours, as mine honour be thine."
"And I will care for your honour as I do your life and strength," Pyrrha vowed. "Now, if you come inside, I'll introduce you to-" She was cut off her scroll beginning to buzz loudly. "Excuse me," Pyrrha murmured to Swift Foot, who indicated with her look that she took no offence as Pyrrha pulled out her scroll; it was Jaune.
"Pyrrha," he cried, as Pyrrha accepted the call. "Where are you?"
"I'm just outside the house," Pyrrha replied. "Is something wrong?"
Jaune nodded. "It seems like the grimm are going absolutely insane to the north; we've had four distress calls just come in, one after the other."
"Four!" Pyrrha gasped. They'd never had more than two at once before. How are we supposed to handle four distress calls? "All grimm?"
"Yes."
Pyrrha felt her heart begin to pound just a little faster. "Is everyone arming?"
"Yes."
"And do you have teams lined up?"
"Yes," Jaune said.
What would I do without you? "I knew you would," Pyrrha said. "Who do I have, and where am I going?"
"It's just Prawn and Jalapeno," Jaune said. "Headed to Thebes."
Hector's girlfriend. His pregnant girlfriend. Please let us be in time. "I'll be waiting for them right here, with a new recruit who'll be accompanying me."
Swift Foot grinned eagerly. "Looks like I got here just in time."