//------------------------------//
// Shadows of Intent 
// Story: SAPR 
// by Scipio Smith 
//------------------------------//


Shadows of Intent


With so many in the house who did not know all or even any of the truth of what was really going on in the unhappy world of Remnant, Pyrrha had gathered her most trusted comrades in the dojo, where - having made it clear that they wished to have some privacy - there was less chance of anyone coming by and accidentally overhearing them talk in that remote part of the estate. There, amongst the weapons and the training equipment, with the candles flickering upon the off-white walls, Jaune listened as Pyrrha unfolded to them all that she had learnt upon her visit to the house of Turnus.
He kind of wished that she had explained to him who this Turnus guy was before she had started to talk about what she'd found there; she seemed to take it for granted that everyone knew – and to be fair, Arslan and Neptune both seemed to be following it, although he wasn't so sure about Sun, Ren, and Nora – but Jaune felt as though there were a couple of pieces missing that were preventing him from understanding the full context of it all.
Mind you, even without the full context, what he could understand was quite bad enough. Lionheart wasn't Salem's only asset in Mistral, and that other asset was now protecting the first.
How bad it was, exactly…that was something that, again, he lacked the context to fully understand.
Arslan clenched her hands into fists. "So Turnus is sheltering Lionheart and working with Salem. Fantastic. As if we didn't have enough problems."
"Turnus is sheltering Lionheart," Pyrrha agreed, "but Juturna is the one who is serving Salem, however much she might protest otherwise. I don't believe that Turnus is involved."
"What makes you so sure?" Neptune asked.
"Because Juturna was quite open and honest with me, so why would Turnus pretend that he did not recognise the name of Salem?" Pyrrha replied. "I don't think he was feigning confusion."
"Okay, but how could his sister not tell her brother that she was working for the queen of evil?" Sun asked. "It seems like the kind of thing you'd want to bring up if you cared about your family."
"On the other hand," Ren murmured, "if she really does believe that she is the one in control, then it may be she doesn't feel it's important enough to trouble her brother with."
"Yeah, but that's absurd," Jaune protested. "It's…she can't really believe that."
"Why not?" inquired Ren, his voice soft and genuinely curious.
"Because it's ridiculous!" Jaune squawked.
"It seems that way to you because of your experiences," Ren reminded him. "If Juturna lacks your dealings with Salem or your observations of those who serve her, she may be naïve enough to have mistaken their relationship. Especially if Salem herself has encouraged that misapprehension."
"We know that she is quite willing to lie in order to get what she wants," Pyrrha murmured. "She was willing to promise much to us in exchange for our service; she promised Ruby that she could bring her mother back to life. She could have promised something to Juturna with just so fair a face. I should have pressed her on just what she had been promised."
"If you'd pressed her too hard, she might not have been so charitable as to let you leave," Jaune replied, putting a hand upon Pyrrha's shoulder. The thought of Pyrrha alone surrounded by servants of Salem, it…it chilled him, even now that the danger had passed and she had emerged from that house safe and sound; he could feel the goosebumps of apprehension for her prickling underneath his hoodie. Pyrrha was the Fall Maiden and the greatest warrior of the day, but she was still just one warrior, and in that moment, she had been one in a tiger's den. "You did the right thing getting out when you did."
Pyrrha looked at him, uncertainty clear in her green eyes. "Perhaps," she said, in a voice that was every bit as unsure of herself. "And what is done is done in that regard. The question is, what is the right thing to do now?"
Jaune did not miss the way that everyone's eyes turned to him. There were times when he almost missed being the member of the team about whom nobody had any expectations. Almost. 
He folded his arms. "The way I see it, we have three questions: What does Salem want? What has she promised Juturna in exchange for her help? And what is Turnus doing with the help of Lionheart? The first…is the easiest and the hardest. Salem might want all kinds of things, but I think it's a fair bet that what she really wants is the Relic of Knowledge hidden under Haven Academy. As I see it, that's the only reason for her to care about Lionheart at this point: he knows how to get into the Vault of the Spring Maiden, and we know from Amber that that kind of knowledge is valuable to her. I think it's a fair bet that at some point, they will attempt to get back into Haven, get to the vault, and remove the relic." 
Haven Academy was presently closed for a winter break that had been extended by Council edict in recognition of the fact that the headmaster was hiding and a great many of the students were camped out in Pyrrha's house, while the teachers were being kept in hand by the Steward for fear of Pyrrha. According to Councillor Ward, a decision on when to reopen the school was about the only thing that the Council could agree on: the votes to extend the winter break were always unanimous. A return to school was in nobody's interest right now.
"But they can't actually get to the relic without the Spring Maiden, and they don't have her," Jaune continued, thinking aloud.
"How can you be so sure?" asked Ren.
"Because if they could get the relic already, they'd have no reason not to do it, right?" Arslan said, looking to Jaune for confirmation.
"Right," Jaune agreed. "Unfortunately, we have no idea whether Salem knows where the Spring Maiden is or not."
"Do you know where she is?" Neptune asked.
"Conceptually, not geographically," Jaune explained.
"What does that mean?" Arslan demanded.
"It means the Spring Maiden is with the Branwen Tribe, a clan of bandits led by Raven Branwen," Pyrrha said.
"The stepmother of your Beacon teammate," Lady Nikos, who had been rather quiet up until now, spoke up from her chair in the corner of the room.
"I'm not sure that 'stepmother' is quite the accurate word, but essentially, you are correct, Mother," Pyrrha replied. "It was she who revealed to her daughter, and Ruby, and Ruby’s father, that she had the Spring Maiden in her power. Ruby told Sunset, Sunset told Professor Ozpin, but whether he told Lionheart…we simply don't know. Nor do we know where, exactly, the Branwen tribe can be found."
"Until they have the Spring Maiden, I don't think they'll move," Jaune said. "Unfortunately, once they get her, they're likely to move very fast."
"Do you think that's what Salem needs Juturna for?" Neptune suggested. "Rutulian Security has the ability to search for the tribe, and maybe even to assault them too, to recover the Spring Maiden."
"That would mean she'd have to trust this Juturna chick with a lot of knowledge about the Maidens and the relics though, right?" Nora pointed out. "Right now, it seems more like Salem's playing her."
Jaune nodded. "You've got a point there, Nora, but I'm sure there are ways that she could keep Juturna in the dark about a lot of these details while still making use of her. She might not need to know why Salem needs to find the Branwens to be told to help with that. Assuming that Salem knows about the Branwen tribe." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "If they get the Spring Maiden, things will become very difficult," he said. 
The Myrmidons couldn't occupy Haven to deny the Vault to the enemy without crossing a line that public opinion might find hard to tolerate, which meant that they would be reliant upon intercepting Salem's forces on the way to Haven, and while that might be possible, if such a battle occurred, it would mean that Salem had acquired the Spring Maiden. It meant Pyrrha would be pitted, perhaps alone, against another Maiden as strong as she, gifted with the same powers of magic, maybe more skilled with them and more experienced, if they managed to persuade – or even "persuade" – the current holder of the Spring mantle to aid them. Pyrrha, swift and skilled and brave as she was, might nevertheless win such a battle, but Jaune considered it part of his role as the strategist to at least try and make every encounter as one-sided and uneven as possible, even if the grimm and the bandits didn't often accommodate his wishes. In this instance, he wasn't willing to just accept "Maiden vs Maiden single combat" as the ideal outcome. 
"Our best chance is to find Spring ourselves and either persuade her to come back to Mistral with us or…" - he hesitated, not because of any personal unwillingness so much as an awareness that some of those present might be themselves hesitant - "...or kill her and make sure that the powers pass to someone we can trust." Either Arslan or Nora would serve very well in that regard, and if they had to bring another member of their group into the circle, then there were plenty of other able candidates in the house: Violet, Ditzy, even someone like Medea or Atalanta in a pinch.
"Jaune," Pyrrha murmured, a mixture of shock and reproach mingling in her voice. "You're suggesting…"
What you were willing to do to Cinder once, Jaune thought; but he said, "What we might have to do, for Mistral, for the good of the world." He looked around, to see how the others were taking it.
"We are talking about a bandit," Ren reminded them, his voice largely empty of emotion. "People who do as ill and worse to others with far less provocation."
"Does that mean that we should descend to their level?" Pyrrha asked him.
"So long as we don't leave a trail of burning villages in our wake, I don't see that we are," Ren replied.
"If the Branwen Tribe were to assault a village under our protection, you wouldn't hesitate," Jaune pointed out.
Pyrrha glanced at him, then looked away. "I know," she said, her voice soft and a little distressed. "I just…of course it is irrelevant until we can find them. How?"
"I…I haven't thought that far yet," Jaune admitted. "But I will, because if we can take care of that, then it's a big load we won't have to worry about any more." He let that sink in for a moment. "It's less concerning, maybe more immediately so, but we also have to worry about what Turnus and Juturna want." He hesitated. "It might help if I actually knew who he was."
Pyrrha looked down at the ring on her finger, turning it round and round with her other hand. "He is the most dangerous fighter in Mistral, after myself."
"Hang on," Arslan said quickly, raising one hand in a 'slow down' gesture. "Let's not go crazy with this; he's massively overrated."
"He's killed sixteen people," Pyrrha pointed out.
"In duels," Arslan argued. "I could do that if I was the kind of touchy person who went round challenging people to duels to the death, and so could you, for that matter."
"Wait, duels?" Jaune repeated. "Duelling to the death, that's still legal here? That's…" he stopped short of saying "that's barbaric." If only just. "That's insane!"
"It is a custom in these times more honoured in the breach than the observance," Lady Nikos declared. "Duelling is a dying art, and duelling to the death even more so but…yes, it remains legal, if only because the Council has always had more pressing matters to deal with than the repeal of musty old laws."
"The point is that he's never faced a real opponent," Arslan insisted. "He got kicked out of Atlas before he could participate in a Vytal Festival, he never entered the Mistral tournament, he's never put himself out there to be judged against his peers."
"He killed his team," Pyrrha said quietly, and her words, quiet though they were, reverberated around the room.
Sun's eyes widened. "He…what? He killed his team?"
Pyrrha elaborated, "Well…perhaps. Arslan is right, Turnus enrolled in Atlas Academy – he's rather fond of the north kingdom – and in the beginning of his second year, his team was assigned a training mission. He was the only one who returned; he said the grimm had killed the others and there was nothing he could have done, but he did bring back his partner's weapon, which he has kept ever since. They say that he had quarrelled with his teammates before the mission, and General Ironwood was sufficiently convinced that something unsavoury had gone on to expel him from the academy."
Jaune found that his jaw had dropped while listening to this. He killed his teammates? Or left them to die, at the least? He tried to imagine Rainbow Dash doing that, flipping off Ciel and Twilight as they got devoured by beowolves, while Penny lay dismembered on the ground at Rainbow’s feet. His mind revolted against the absurdity of it. You didn't need to fall in love with your partner the way he had to know that…your team was supposed to be…it was just wrong. It was…wrong; contrary to the foundation stones of the four academies. No wonder General Ironwood had expelled him.
"He is dangerous," Pyrrha insisted. "If we have to oppose him…I would rather overestimate him than underestimate him."
"'If,'" Jaune repeated. "What does he want?"
Pyrrha glanced at her mother, who said nothing. "I…I'm not sure," she said, a little tremulously. "He seems to think the current chaos is making the Council look weak – he may be right about that – but what he wants…he may want to seize power in the city."
"Would that be a problem if he did?" Sun asked. "I mean, obviously, it wouldn't be great, but we're here to fight Salem and the grimm, not fix everything wrong with the world."
"We are here to protect Mistral," Pyrrha declared. A sigh escaped her. "But I take your point. Or I would if Salem were not so close by, her agents living in his house. He may not serve her, but who knows what they could suggest to him?"
"But we need to know his planned intent before we can stop it," Jaune murmured. "We can't do anything to stop him until we know what we have to stop. And the same goes for our other problem," he added, nodding to Arslan. "It's not ideal that one of the Councillors is raising her own force to fight us, but all that we can do is…not provoke her, or anyone else. Showing that our enemies are outside the walls…what else can we do?"
"Nothing, I suppose," Pyrrha admitted. “Although...on that subject, I feel as though we need to talk about Autumn Blaze, before we talk to her about what she’s been saying. It’s probably my fault for not checking what she was going to say before she posted it, but that doesn’t change the fact that...I’m not sure that her coverage has been an unalloyed good for us. In fact...I think it might have done us some harm.”
Arslan folded her arms. “You think she’s the reason people don’t trust us?”
“I think that people might not be so ready to believe that I want to retake the throne of my ancestors if Autumn didn’t keep reminding people that it is the throne of my ancestors,” Pyrrha replied, though there was no anger or malice in her voice, just a degree of slightly melancholy disappointment.
“She’s not wrong,” Arslan pointed out.
“That doesn’t mean it needs to be repeated constantly,” Pyrrha said. “Not when it’s harming our cause.”
“Is it harming our cause?” Arslan asked.
“Yes!” Neptune said, loudly and firmly. “My mother thinks that Pyrrha needs to be assassinated before she can become a tyrant; your friend has been hired to raise fighters by Lady Ming because she is also worried that Pyrrha is going to become a tyrant.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, it feels like the story Autumn Blaze is telling has less to do with the people of Mistral coming together to defend their kingdom and more like the heiress to the throne reclaiming her birthright, and it’s doing more harm than good.”
“You’re being very naive if you really believe that,” Arslan declared. “I’ve known Autumn for a few years, ever since I did that TV show-”
“You had a TV show?” Jaune asked.
“Yeah, there was a time when I considered getting into acting,” Arslan said. “I played a girl with a magic compass and Autumn was a hot-air balloon riding cowgirl.”
“That sounds...weird,” Jaune admitted.
“And there were armoured polar bears too; it was kind of all over the place,” Arslan admitted. “Probably why it wasn’t picked up for a second season. Anyway, Autumn was really nice to me, gave me a lot of good advice about the industry and stuff, and she’s one hell of a writer; nobody can dispute that.”
“The quality of her writing isn’t the issue,” Neptune said. “It’s what she’s writing.”
“She has not intentionally set out to hurt our cause, I guarantee it,” Arslan said. “She doesn’t have a false or malicious bone in her body.”
“That doesn’t mean that she can’t make mistakes,” Neptune insisted. “Maybe we would have been better off with some regular PR people.”
“We do not - and did not - want PR people,” Arslan replied. “PR people are the worst, aren’t they, Pyrrha?”
Pyrrha sighed. “I never got on with any of those that my mother consulted, did I, Mother?”
“Indeed not,” Lady Nikos said. “You chafed at every restriction they sought to place upon you.”
“That,” Arslan said emphatically. “That is the thing that you need to understand: PR people don’t tell you how to get people to like what you are or what you do; they tell you what to do in order to be liked. If you asked a PR guy what we had to do in order to get the rich to approve of us saving the villages and not be suspicious of our motives, you know what they’d say? They’d say 'don’t save the villages.'”
“You’re exaggerating,” Neptune said.
“Pyrrha knows what they’re like, don’t you, Pyrrha?”
Pyrrha nodded glumly. “Unfortunately, I think Arslan might be right; in our experience, publicists are less interested in changing minds than in...well, changing their clients to make them more acceptable to minds that have already been made up.”
“We needed a storyteller because we needed a narrative,” Arslan insisted. “We needed a narrative that would sway the people, and we got one.”
“I agree,” Jaune said. “Maybe it worked a little too well, but I agree.”
“Really?” Ren asked sceptically.
“Yes,” Jaune said. “Pyrrha, do you remember the party that you took me to during spring break? You told me that if any flower should grow too high then that was something...something to be hated.”
“Because all the rest would be plunged into shadow,” Pyrrha whispered.
“Yes, that was exactly what you told me,” said Jaune. “And if it was true of you then...how much more true is it now, after the Battle of Vale and everything else and now this? We could hire an airship to fly a banner saying ‘I have no ambitions’ over the city all day, and even if they believed it, these people would still hate you because you’ve done more than they have or even could. We needed to spread our message, and we needed to get the people on our side, and thanks to Autumn, we’ve done that.”
“Well, when you put it like that, it makes sense,” Sun said. “I mean it doesn’t make sense, but I see where you’re coming from.”
“But it doesn’t change the fact that they still hate us,” Neptune said, “and it feels like we ought to be trying to do something about that.”
“Add it to the list,” Jaune muttered tiredly.
“Indeed,” Pyrrha agreed, slightly disconsolately. “Arslan, will you find Autumn and ask her to come to the study? I think we need to have a word with her.”
Arslan hesitated for a moment, but nodded. “Sure. I’ll get her.”
“Thank you,” Pyrrha said softly. She glanced at Ren, but did not speak.
He caught her look regardless. “Was there something else?”
Pyrrha frowned. Jaune said, “We need you to watch the Rutulus house, to see...to see if there’s anything going on there.”
Ren was still, and for a few seconds, he said nothing. “Very well.”
“All by yourself?” Nora asked.
“It’s necessary,” Ren told her.
Nora pouted, but did not otherwise protest.
Pyrrha looked around the room. "Thank you, all, for your efforts today. I know that it was not our easiest set of encounters, and you have my gratitude. Now, if you will excuse us."
"Of course," Neptune said, as they took their leave. 
Lady Nikos lingered after all the rest had gone. Jaune found that Pyrrha’s mother looked rather less certain of herself than she seemed usually; she seemed almost abashed, or maybe even ashamed of something. It wasn’t something Jaune had ever expected to see out of his future mother-in-law; he did not say "soon to be," as he and Pyrrha had yet to discuss the date for the wedding; he had the impression Pyrrha was hoping that there would come a point at which they could hold the wedding without fear of the ceremony being interrupted by a grimm attack. He couldn’t help but wonder what had caused it.
“How…how did you find Turnus?” Lady Nikos asked.
Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. She turned the ring over and over on her finger. “He…was not pleased.”
“I still feel as though there’s a ton of subtext that I’m missing the context for.” Jaune said. “But even moreso now.”
Lady Nikos took a deep breath. “Do you remember, Mister Arc, when I told you that better men in Mistral were waiting for Pyrrha’s hand?”
Yes, he did remember that time in the café in Vale and how uncomfortable it had been, but…Jaune felt his jaw drop for the second time that night. “This is the guy you were talking about?”
“The very same,” Lady Nikos replied, and she seemed unable to meet his eyes as she said it.
Jaune could see why, to be perfectly honest. He…he didn’t know what to say. He was…he was speechless. “My lady,” he managed to say at last, “with all due respect, I know that I’ve got my flaws, God knows, and I know that a lot of people might say that I don’t deserve Pyrrha; I’ve been one of them. But I’ve got to say at least I never left anyone to die when they were depending on me, never mind stabbed them in the back!” Really? That guy? That was the guy I nearly lost out to? The guy who left his teammates to die at best and killed them all at worst; you thought he was better than me?
“I was seduced by the many advantages that he possessed,” Lady Nikos confessed. “He is wealthy, well-born, strong, and capable.”
All the things that I’m not. “And a murderer, maybe,” Jaune pointed out. “And at best a…” he stopped, because he wasn’t sure what the word was for someone who abandoned his comrades to die? A deserter, maybe? Worse than scum?
“Turnus would say that these are slanders of his enemies,” Lady Nikos replied. “It suited me to believe that.”
“But you didn’t?” Jaune asked, looking to Pyrrha.
“He took his partner’s weapon,” Pyrrha said. “If they had fallen despite his best efforts, then why would he bring the weapon home and keep it as if it were a prize? I could not answer that question.”
“I hope the fact that Pyrrha’s own affections never tended in that direction gives you comfort, Mister Arc,” Lady Nikos said. “And as for myself, surely even I may be allowed one error of judgement. Deeds done in Atlas seemed so far away, but his actions in Mistral…you have turned out to be a better man than I thought and he a worse one.”
I’m glad to hear you think so now. “Thank you, my lady.”
“I hear that young Lady Swift Foot Thrax now knows that you are the Fall Maiden,” Lady Nikos said to Pyrrha, changing the subject.
“Indeed,” Pyrrha confirmed. “Do you…think that I have done ill?”
“Only you can answer that,” Lady Nikos said. “Myself, I chafe at the need for secrecy. I understand it, but…you have become so much…more. I wish it could be known throughout the kingdom, as it deserves to be. But that is just my vanity talking, I am sure.” She paused, breathing in deeply. “While you were discovering the treachery - or folly, at the least - of the Rutulians, I was entertaining Councillors Ward and Timur, to see what could be done to increase support for you and your chosen course in Council.”
“I see,” Pyrrha murmured. “Did your discussion yield any fruit?”
“You could have Lady Ming’s support if you were willing - even theoretically - to turn your strength against Atlas,” Lady Nikos said, with a little amusement creeping back into her voice.
“You said that I would never do such a thing, I hope,” Pyrrha said, a touch of sharpness entering into hers.
Lady Nikos chuckled. “Never fear, Pyrrha, I know you that well, at least. And though I do not know your Atlesian friends, the fact that they are your friends, and they have fought beside you against Salem’s strength, is enough for me; I would not ask you to turn against them, not when they have done no harm to Mistral. We would be shamed indeed to take such a course. The other way you may not like, but at least it may be called honourable.”
“You mean submission,” Jaune said. “That’s what you’re talking about, isn’t it, my lady? We would...put ourselves at the disposal of the Council.”
“Of the Steward, at least,” Lady Nikos clarified. “It would yield the three votes necessary in Council.”
“Perhaps,” Pyrrha mused. “Is there any guarantee of that?” She bowed her head for a moment. “What if we accept the Council’s authority, and the Council still decides to do nothing, or rather the Council remains unable to decide to do anything? Must we then watch Mistral burn, its villages devoured by grimm?”
“If it comes to such a pretty pass, then Mistral is truly lost, its spirit slain and fled to the next world beyond recall,” Lady Nikos declared. “I hope and pray that Lord Thrax is not so lost to honour. He fears you, yes, but once you are under his authority - and a share in the prestige you garner from your actions begins accruing to him, as you fight under his auspices - then I cannot...I would not wish to believe that he would turn his back on Mistral when it cries out for aid.”
“I also hope it would not be so,” Pyrrha said softly. She looked to Jaune. “What do you think?”
Jaune exhaled through gritted teeth. “I...I’m not sure. On the one hand, it would clear up a lot of our Council troubles and get the threat of the law and Lady Ming’s private army off our backs. But on the other hand, if we have to report to someone else, it will be harder for us to do what we need to do to stop Salem: to go after the Spring Maiden, to protect Haven...some things will get easier, some things will get more difficult. But it will solve our immediate problems; we’ll just have to figure out the answers to the future ones later. Provided we can get a good enough deal.”
“Indeed,” Lady Nikos said. “I do not know what Councillor Ward will return with. Until he does, indeed, return, this is all speculation.”
“Yes,” Pyrrha agreed. “We shall see what he brings back from the Steward, and...and then we will consider it. Goodnight, Mother.”
"Goodnight, Pyrrha, Mister Arc.”
“My lady,” Jaune murmured as Lady Nikos, too, left them. The door closed behind her, and he was left alone in the room with Pyrrha.
Pyrrha turned away from him, head bowed, one hand clasping her other elbow. "Did you mean that, Jaune?" she asked, her voice so soft and so fragile sounding. “Did you mean what you said about the Spring Maiden?”
"Yes," he answered, and where her voice had become gentle, almost glassy, he found that his throat had gone hoarse and croak-like.
Pyrrha was silent for a long moment. "After we returned from Merlot's Island, Sunset and I went to Professor Ozpin to debrief him about what had happened there. About how we had fought side by side with Cinder. Sunset pleaded that she might yet…renounce her allegiance to Salem. Neither Professor Ozpin nor myself believed her; I could hardly believe that Sunset could be so naïve, so blind where Cinder Fall was concerned; it frightened me, but she showed us in the end. They both did." Pyrrha sighed. "In any case, Sunset took her leave first; I stayed behind to talk to Professor Ozpin. To confess to him what I had considered doing."
"Killing Cinder," Jaune muttered. "To become the Fall Maiden."
"Yes," Pyrrha said, her voice tinged with melancholy. "Murdering her for the power she carried inside of her."
"You had good reason to consider that step, as difficult a step as it was to consider," Jaune insisted. "You had the best of reasons to think about it."
"That doesn't change the fact that what I considered was wrong," Pyrrha replied. She turned to face him, and he saw that her eyes had begun to water. "I asked the professor if it would have been the right thing to do, and he told me that…the beginning informs the race; do you understand what that means?"
Jaune nodded. "I think so."
Pyrrha glanced down at her hand, and for a brief moment, a fire sparked in her palm, the flames as red as Pyrrha's hair dancing in the cradle of her fingers, before she closed her fist to snuff it out. "I still don't know if I am truly worthy of this honour," she said, "but if I have any hope at all of proving myself fit to stand amongst the Maidens who came before, it is because I received these powers as a gift, generously bestowed on me by a dear friend, who trusted me with all her hopes and dreams. If I had become the Fall Maiden earlier, by killing Cinder…Professor Ozpin told me that it would have followed me and turned all my endeavours to blood and ashes."
"And yet he sent you to kill Amber," Jaune said, unable to prevent a note of bitterness from entering his voice. He understood that Pyrrha had been fond of Professor Ozpin, had looked up to him; he understood that, and he could even see why: Professor Ozpin had always been kind to them and seemed to have done his best to guide them down the right path. Sunset and Pyrrha had been so much closer to the old man than either Jaune himself or Ruby had, so he got why they looked back on him fondly and reached for the memory of his counsel. But Jaune had to be honest with himself too, and honestly…Professor Ozpin had screwed up. A lot. He got blindsided, he trusted the wrong people, he made mistakes, and some of those mistakes almost wound up getting Pyrrha killed. If she had gone down into the Vault of the Fall Maiden without Cinder, then she would be dead right now; even Pyrrha herself admitted that, although she didn't seem to blame Ozpin for sending her down there. Professor Ozpin was a wise man, and he had tried his best, but Jaune doubted that even the old man himself would have claimed infallibility; just because he had said something didn't make it so, and his precepts should not – could not – become a substitute for doing what was best for them in the present moment.
"To protect the Relic of Choice," Pyrrha said.
"And we'll be protecting the Relic of Knowledge," Jaune insisted. "By-"
"By killing a girl whose only crime was to be afraid?" Pyrrha asked. "To run away from something terrifying, like Amber? Are we to become as bad as Cinder now, to encompass the death of someone who has done us no harm for power and our own benefit?"
"I'd like to give her a chance to come back to Mistral with us," Jaune said, although Amber had shown that there could be problems with that, too. It wasn't something that Pyrrha wanted to hear – it wasn't something Jaune particularly wanted to think – but the path that ended with a new and reliable Spring Maiden was a much safer one for their group and, indeed, for Mistral. "And let's not forget that we're not talking about an innocent girl, here; you can't believe that she's been living with a bandit tribe for years without getting her hands dirty."
"That doesn't give us the right to put her to death or to condemn Arslan or Nora to be a Maiden stained with blood, dogged by that first crime for all the rest of their lives," Pyrrha insisted.
"I'm not saying that we have the right; I'm saying that we might have to, even though it's wrong," Jaune replied. He took a tentative step towards her, and when she did not say anything or step away, he closed the distance between the two of them, enfolding her in his arms and pressing her close to him. "I'm sorry," he said. "I wish that…I wish that you didn't have to do this, but-"
"But I am the one with the best chance of defeating the Spring Maiden, whoever she may be," Pyrrha said. "Or helping our candidate to do so." She paused. "Arslan or Nora. I'm not sure which of them Professor Ozpin would have chosen. If he would have chosen either."
"He's not here," Jaune reminded her. "You are. So which do you choose?"
Once more, Pyrrha hesitated. "Arslan," she said, after a moment or two had passed. "She loves this city and is well-beloved within it. Few deserve to champion this kingdom more than she…and in these times, she is the better warrior."
Jaune nodded and reached out to run one hand through Pyrrha's long ponytail. He felt the silky softness of her hair between his fingers. "I wish you hadn't told that Swift Foot girl the truth," he admitted. "She only just got here, and she already knows one of our biggest secrets."
"I couldn't risk the town so as to keep my powers a secret," Pyrrha said.
"Of course not; that's not what I meant."
"And she already knew that it wasn't Atlesian microtechnology," Pyrrha added, a welcome touch of amusement entering her voice. "I had to tell her something."
"No, you didn't," Jaune replied.
"If I hadn't told her the truth, she would have taken it as a slight and left."
"Then let her go," Jaune declared. "She's not invaluable."
"She fought well today," Pyrrha argued, "and we need all the help we can get."
"If she really wanted to help, she would have accepted there were things that she didn't know and stayed anyway, like Jalapeno," Jaune countered. "I sometimes think that in this city, too many people are too concerned with their honour."
"I cannot deny that," Pyrrha conceded, "but it is the way of this kingdom, and it cannot be helped nor changed by us. As I told you once, in this city, reputation – standing amongst our peers – is everything. That's why they fear me: it's my prestige that worries them, not the armed followers at my back. If I spurned the Steward's daughter, I would confirm that I feel as they fear, that I see myself as the colossus their imagination makes of me. Instead, I hope that she might…mollify her father, in the end."
Jaune bent his neck, and kissed her on the forehead. "If that's so, then maybe…"
"Maybe?"
"Maybe she can help us," Jaune said. "With our Lionheart problem, at least."



Swift Foot's mission had gotten a lot more…intriguing.
She had been sent to the house of Pyrrha Nikos to discover her plans and sabotage the integrity of her company, but while she was no closer to discovering the mundane and earthly ambitions of "Lady Pyrrha," she had already found out something far more fascinating and incredible.
Magic. Pyrrha Nikos had magic. Pyrrha Nikos was the Fall Maiden. Swift Foot wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, and having seen, she might not have believed the specific explanation in any case save that Pyrrha had asked her to keep it secret. Swift Foot could have understood a public lie, such as she had given to the townsfolk of Thebes, but when the public lie was pathetic – Atlesian microtechnology indeed – and the private story was perfectly calibrated for public consumption, it raised questions. If Swift Foot had seen Pyrrha go before the people of Thebes – or the people of Mistral – and tell them that the fairy tale of the seasons was true and that the awe-inspiring powers of the Fall Maiden had been passed on to her, then Swift Foot would have seen it at once for what it was: an attempt to aggrandise herself at the expense of the rest of the kingdom. But Pyrrha had told the public lie in private, and to the public given an explanation she had been very fortunate to get away with, and furthermore, she had asked Swift Foot to keep her powers a secret. What sense did that make, unless the story was true?
And if it was true, and if Pyrrha Nikos was the Fall Maiden – or even if it wasn't true, the very fact of the powers that Swift Foot had seen with her own eyes was enough – then that was fascinating. Why keep it secret? The revelation that Pyrrha had magical powers, wherever they came from, would have combined with her existing prestige to make her first citizen in the kingdom beyond doubt, even if she harboured no ambitions for the throne. All others would have been eclipsed by her, even more than they were already. And yet, she hid her light, or asked others to pretend they had not seen it even when she revealed it. And even though she had shown her power in battle, that might have been for the first time, judging by the ignorance of others in the house as revealed by Swift Foot's subtle questioning.
It made no sense, what Pyrrha was doing; to keep secret that which would have made her great, or greater than she was already. It made no sense...unless she was sincere in what she had said regarding her ambitions or the lack thereof. Unless she spoke true when she told Swift Foot that she was not what her father’s fears had made her seem. If it were so - and Swift Foot was not yet wholly convinced that it was - then that might make Pyrrha Nikos one of the most honest people in Mistral. Which possibly was the most interesting thing in this house, as far as Swift Foot was concerned. Everything else – everyone else – here was rather banal by comparison, the kind of people she could figure out quite easily. But this? This was something new, something interesting. There were secrets here - Pyrrha had admitted as much - to which Swift Foot was not yet privy, and she was dying to ferret them out.
If nothing else, her father might reward her for them. 
Now, as she walked into the Nikos dojo to find Pyrrha and Jaune Arc – almost as surprising, but far less interesting, as Pyrrha's magic was her unorthodox choice of betrothed; apparently, she had plebeian tastes in men – waiting for her, hand in hand, Swift Foot was as concerned by the chance to get more answers to her questions as she was by what they might want of her.
"You asked to see me?" she asked, facing them without excessive humility. She was a daughter of the steward, after all.
"Yes," Pyrrha replied, her voice gentle. "You fought very well today."
"I was not so impressive as you," Swift Foot replied. "And besides, I regret that we were unable to learn anything about what caused such a large number of grimm attacks in a single day." They had searched the woods north of Thebes but had found nothing to explain what had suddenly riled up so many of the creatures of grimm; neither had any of the other teams which had swept their sectors. The attacks had been like a lightning bolt from a clear sky.
Pyrrha and Jaune looked at one another, confirming to Swift Foot that they knew more than they were telling her. "We…have a couple of theories," Jaune allowed, "but the most important thing is that we won the day and saved the settlements."
Swift Foot smiled. "I'm sure you didn't ask me to come and see you to remind me of what I already saw with my own eyes today."
"No," Pyrrha agreed, "we didn't. I asked you here…how is your relationship with your father?"
Swift Foot put on a downcast look. It wasn't hard at all. "I…I haven't spoken to my father since I came to join you here, but I cannot imagine he is very pleased with my choices."
"Might he listen to you, nonetheless?" Pyrrha asked.
Swift Foot cocked her head ever so slightly one side. "Is there something that you want me to tell him?"
"How much do you know about what goes on in the Council?" asked Jaune.
Swift Foot allowed herself a slight smile. "I know that my father believes that Councillor Ward is your creature."
"Councillor Ward is our friend and ally," Pyrrha corrected her. "We see eye to eye on many issues presently facing Mistral, but I do not control him, any more than I control you or any of these our comrades who fight for Mistral alongside us."
"Of course," Swift Foot said delicately. "I merely meant to report what my father believes."
Pyrrha nodded. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to…I'm sorry."
"And Lionheart?" Jaune demanded. "What does your father think about him?"
Swift Foot considered how she ought best to respond to that, and decided that honesty in this instance would do no harm. "My father is frustrated by Professor Lionheart, because his interests are not clear. He understands why Ward, Timur, and Lady Ming all vote the way they do, for all that it makes all alliances in the Council unstable, but he does not understand Professor Lionheart."
"Lionheart has many masters," Pyrrha said, "but the good of Mistral is not amongst them."
"What do you mean?"
"Lionheart is in the house of Turnus Rutulus and votes according to the bidding of his protector," Pyrrha informed her. "He votes to protect my group and to frustrate any Council response to the attacks upon our settlements so that the Council may appear impotent and ineffectual in the eyes of the people."
"You know this for certain?"
"I do," Pyrrha replied. "I saw him there today, when I visited the house of the Rutulians; Turnus as good as confessed his motives to me."
"'Today'?" Swift Foot repeated. Her eyes narrowed. "Your tame councillor moved to have Lionheart removed from his office some time ago, before you learned of this."
"We have other reasons to know that Lionheart is unfit to be headmaster of Haven and can't be trusted," Jaune admitted, "He was working with Cinder Fall, the terrorist who allied with the White Fang to carry out the attacks on Vale last year, and who murdered Phoebe Kommenos during the Vytal Festival.”
Swift Foot considered that for a moment. It made sense - this Cinder Fall had infiltrated Beacon disguised as a Haven student, and the headmaster of Haven would have been in a position to facilitate that. It made sense, and it would explain the antagonism of these Beacon students. 
Of course, the fact that it made sense did not make it true. “You have proof of this?”
“Lionheart himself confessed it to me this very day,” Pyrrha said.
“But I suppose he would deny it in a more public setting,” Swift Foot extrapolated.
 “Sure,” Jaune accepted. “But isn't what we have told you enough to convince your father to vote to dismiss Lionheart?"
"He might not be averse to it," Swift Foot conceded. "But who would replace him?"
"I…don't know," Pyrrha said. "I think that any alternative choice the Council might make would be an improvement."
"Then…I will speak to my father," said Swift Foot. "However, I make no guarantees."
"That you try is all I can ask," responded Pyrrha, bowing her head briefly. "Thank you."
"Thank you," Swift Foot said, "for giving me this opportunity. I will speak to my father at once." She turned to go, leaving them both in the dojo as she shut the door behind her and made her way out onto the spacious grounds that surrounded the house. The night air was a little chill, but the moonlight was bright enough that she could see exactly where she was going as she made her way to a secluded spot beneath a cherry tree, not far from the compound wall. Swift Foot sat down, feeling the rough bark of the tree dig slightly into her back, as she closed her eyes and activated her semblance.
Astral Projection was the subject of much mockery by Blonn Di and Shining Light, and it was true that it was not the most powerful semblance in Remnant, but it was particularly well-suited for this mission, as unlike a call on a scroll, the echo of herself that she projected into the house of her father could neither be overheard nor intercepted by any technical expert who might be trying to listen in. And so, leaving her body in seeming slumber beneath the cherry tree, Swift Foot passed in echo over the city of Mistral, her ghost slipping invisibly through the streets so swiftly that she could barely make out the details of the city through which she flew until she had arrived at the palace that sat just beneath the summit of the mountain, floating invisible through the corridors and past the columns until she reached the grim and grey forbidding chamber where her father held court.
It was not the throne room of the Emperors; her father might take up the steward's seat before the vacant throne upon occasion for some public duty before the eyes of men, but his private audiences were held in a different room: large and cavernous, almost completely devoid of colour, grey save for a purple carpet that ran from the door to her father's throne. Two immense statues of a pair of equine grimm, their bony heads looking almost like helmets, their mouths open, framed in screams that bared their monstrous fangs, stood on either side of the doors, rearing up towards the ceiling, hooves kicking. They had always scared Swift Foot when she was a child; even now, she could not say she liked them. She did her best to ignore their presence as her astral echo came to a stop in the middle of the room and focussed her attention upon her father and sister.
Lord Diomedes had been a great huntsman in his youth, and even now, his body was strong, broad-shouldered, and he wore a brazen brow-guard upon his head and a banded cuirass beneath his crimson toga. A hedge of spears surrounded his chair, sprouting like trees out of the grey stone floor. His hair and beard had both turned white with the years, and his hair was braided yet remained so long it dangled over the arm of his chair. His eyes were blue-grey, sharp and keen, set within a face turned hard by the passage of time.
Swift Foot's eldest sister Terri Belle – and Swift Foot was very glad that neither Blonn Di nor Shining Light were present for this – stood at their father's right hand. She was tall and seemed even taller by the way her metallic grey hair was spiked upwards in sharp blades atop her head, even as a braid draped down across her shoulder and a ponytail descended down behind her. She wore a linothorax cuirass and pteruges, though her legs were unprotected by the delicate sandals on her feet, and she held a spear lightly in one hand. Her features were sharp, and her eyes held a touch of muted green about them. Metallic grey rings adorned her ears.
Swift Foot knelt. "My lord father." She glanced at Terri Belle. "Sister."
Terri Belle's lips twitched upwards in a brief smile. "Welcome home, Swift Foot; after a fashion."
"What have you to report?" Lord Diomedes demanded.
"My lord, I have successfully infiltrated the house of Pyrrha Nikos."
"Indeed," Lord Diomedes murmured. "Have you sowed discord amongst all of her companions?"
"No, but-"
"Have you broken up her association and rendered Pyrrha Nikos powerless?"
"I've only just arrived," Swift Foot protested.
"Then do not tell me that you have successfully done anything," Lord Diomedes snapped. "Your mission is not successful until it is complete. All you have done is gain entry into the door; I would expect nothing less from you."
Swift Foot lowered her head. "Of course, my lord," she murmured. "I apologise."
"Father, you might let her speak," Terri Belle said reproachfully.
Lord Diomedes glanced at his eldest daughter for a moment, then back to his youngest. "Did you return merely to tell me that you have entered the house?"
"No, my lord, I would not disturb you just for that," Swift Foot said. "I have discovered that Pyrrha Nikos possesses…magic."
Terri Belle's eyes widened. "That is-"
"Impossible!" Lord Diomedes declared. "There is no such thing as magic."
"I saw her with my own eyes, my lord," Swift Foot insisted. "She created vast quantities of fire and ice without the use of dust. Pyrrha revealed her semblance in the Vytal Festival, and it was not this. She conjured the elements from nothing and destroyed the grimm with them. I know not how else to explain it."
"How did she explain it?" Terri Belle demanded.
Swift Foot glanced at her eldest sister. "She called herself the Fall Maiden," she said. "As in the fairy tale our mother read to us."
"A children's story?" Lord Diomedes spat.
"An unlikely lie, is it not?" Terri Belle murmured. "Are you certain of what you saw?"
"I am," Swift Foot insisted. "Call it what you will, but she has power within her, greater than many suspect."
"If she is so much greater than why hide it?" Terri Belle asked.
"I…I don't know," Swift Foot admitted. “But when confronted by the people of Thebes she concocted an obvious lie which they were gracious enough to believe. She has some reason to conceal the truth, I simply do not know what that reason is yet.”
"Then discover it, and swiftly," Lord Diomedes demanded. "Discover all that you can about these powers and where in the world others may lie that could yet be acquired by worthier hands." For a moment, he threatened to smile in anticipation of such a discovery, but he no longer had the face for smiles, if he ever had possessed such. "And complete your task. I have this very day received a proposal that may clip the wings of Pyrrha Nikos, but nevertheless, I would pluck out her feathers and watch her plummet to the ground, and all the moreso if she possesses these...magical powers that you attribute to her. Whether she is under my command or no, so long as she fights on, so long as the people see her leading our defence, she is a danger to this kingdom. Therefore your task remains."
"Yes, my lord,” Swift Foot said at once. “My lord, if I may...what is this proposal of which you speak? I was just with Pyrrha, and I heard nothing of this.”
“No, it has not yet been put to her,” Lord Diomedes said. “Terri Belle, the proposal.”
“Councillor Ward came to us, to ask for terms,” Terri Belle declared. “We will take Pyrrha Nikos and her Myrmidons under the authority of the Council, and the force being raised by Lady Ming also, and Rutulian Security too - identical offers will be made to the Nikos, Ming, and Rutulus families - provided that they submit to me, as Captain-General and Warden of the Mistral Tower, to stay or go entirely at my command.”
“And in return, you will commit your forces to defend the kingdom,” Swift Foot murmured.
“I will do what I must to keep Mistral safe,” Terri Belle said. “Now that I no longer have to fear the spears of the Myrmidons more than the teeth of the grimm.” Her brow furrowed. “Do you think she will accept those terms?”
“I...I cannot say, my lord,” Swift Foot said. “I am not so deep into her confidence. Perhaps if you were to add that you will vote with her to dismiss Professor Lionheart-”
“Dismiss Lionheart?” Lord Diomedes repeated. “What is this?”
“She wishes him removed, my lord.”
“He is her ally,” Terri Belle said. “Or he has guarded her flank upon occasion, at least. Does she turn on him?”
“She says that he was never hers to begin with,” Swift Foot replied. “According to Pyrrha, Professor Lionheart is in thrall to the Rutulus family, and he votes according to their interests and only protects the Myrmidons in order to discredit you, my lord."
"Discredit our father?" Terri Belle repeated. "To what end?"
"Pyrrha claims that Professor Lionheart was involved with the terrorist Cinder Fall, her murder of the last of the Kommenos family, and her attacks on Vale last year in conjunction with the White Fang,” Swift Foot explained. “Presumably, she suspects that something similar might happen here, and so Lionheart seeks to sow mischief to prepare the way for such an action.”
“Are you certain she was telling you the truth?” Terri-Belle asked
"I have given her no reason to distrust me,” Swift Foot replied plaintively.
"Hmm," Lord Diomedes mused. "It may be – it is – that Lionheart's actions in recent months have been vexing to me, but...to dismiss him, without an obvious replacement...and if he is the servant of young Lord Rutulus, then he will hardly take kindly to the dismissal of his man upon the council. Although I feel no more kindly towards him than I do to Pyrrha Nikos, I will not offend the one simply to please the other.”
“And what of his connection to the White Fang and other insurrectionists?” Terri-Belle reminded him. “I no more like having a rogue lion within the walls than an eagle we do not command.”
“But an enemy of Vale is not necessarily an enemy of Mistral,” Lord Diomedes told her. “We must learn more before we can say for certain that Lionheart, being foe to one, must needs be an enemy to us as well. As for his dismissal, I will...consider it, but wait upon the replies of both Pyrrha and Turnus to my proposal. Though they will both remain my enemies no matter their replies, if one is willing to bend the knee for a little while and the other is not, I will know which one I can afford to indulge. Was there anything else?”
Swift Foot licked her lips. “No, my lord. Pyrrha has no proof to substantiate her accusations, only her word of Lionheart’s confession, and of the confession of the terrorist Cinder Fall.”
“Which is probably buried in Vale somewhere under the rubble of their tower,” Terri-Belle pronounced, with a touch of resignation. “So there is functionally no evidence at all.”
Swift Foot shook her head. “Practically, no,” she admitted.
“Then return to your mission,” Lord Diomedes said. “Until you have other news to bring before us.”
“Yes, my lord.”



“So,” Pyrrha said, “I suppose that we had better have a word with Autumn, hadn’t we?”
“Yeah,” Jaune said. “I guess we had. Do you know what you’re going to say to her?”
“I’m going to ask her why she had to paint me as a threat to the political order and the republic of equals,” Pyrrha replied. “Surely, she could have promoted our cause without going so far?”
Jaune shrugged. “I meant what I said,” he told her. “I really believe that they would have hated you anyway, just for what you’re doing. I don’t think...from what I know of this city, I don’t think it’s fair to blame Autumn’s blogs for a fault that is in the spirits of the nobles. It’s what you do that rouses their ire.”
“And what is said of me,” Pyrrha added.
“In the streets, maybe, but we need the voices in the street to counteract the hatred of the great houses,” Jaune argued. “Fear of the crowd’s anger is what keeps them in check.”
“I know,” Pyrrha admitted. “I know that, but...I wouldn’t be so...if the Council did its duty, if the other families... if they did what was right, as we do, then they could share in what honour accrues to us; instead, they are driven to such fear of me that they huddle within the walls, nursing their strength-”
“Do they?” Jaune asked. “Or do they say that to save face, because it gives them a plausible excuse to remain at home?”
Pyrrha did not respond immediately. She glanced away, a sigh escaping her as her chest rose and fell. “For some, that might be the case,” she conceded, “but for others...there was a time when I looked up to Swift Foot’s sister. I never had what I would call friends amongst the society of Mistral, but I have grown up amongst these people, and I have known them for as long as I have known myself.” What was a prodigy of a daughter, after all, if she could not be shown off? Pyrrha had been presented, displayed like a prize pig, at no end of parties throughout her youth and childhood. The eyes of Turnus, Juturna, the Steward’s eldest daughters...she had seen their faces many times and felt their eyes upon her as she stood, still and silent while her mother spoke on her behalf upon the subject of her daughter’s greatness. “Though they have never liked me, though I have threatened them through no desire of my own...I would not think them cowards, nor the kind of people who would abandon Mistral’s territories to their fate simply to spite me.”
Jaune’s voice, when it came, was quiet. “And if they were the kind of people who would abandon Mistral’s territories because of what a playwright wrote on their blog, what kind of people would that make them? Speak to Autumn about her tone, sure, but let’s not pretend that she is the cause of this problem.”
“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “No, unfortunately, you’re right.” She closed her eyes. When did competition become the envy of accomplishment? When did we stop trying to rise and started seeking to pull others down? When did we lose ourselves? “And yet...although I faced...jealousy from some, it might not have crossed the line into, well, this, if it weren’t for my portrayal as a conqueror on a quest. I might be given more credit for my motives if my motives were not made to seem so cynically self-serving. Or perhaps not. The state of Mistral being what it is...I confess that I really couldn’t say for sure. In any case, we should probably go; Autumn and Arslan are probably waiting for us.”
“Right,” Jaune said, and he reached out to offer her his hand. Pyrrha took it, slipping her smaller hand into his own and feeling his fingers close tenderly over hers. She slid the dojo door open, and they walked out - hand in hand - into the cool night air. 
Jaune glanced up. “The moon is beautiful tonight,” he observed.
Pyrrha followed his gaze. “Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, it is. So big and bright.”
“Does it ever strike you as weird?” Jaune asked.
“What?”
“That the moon can be beautiful, even though it’s broken,” Jaune explained.
Pyrrha could see what he meant, but she said, “I’m starting to think that this city is broken...but it’s still beautiful, in my eyes.”
“It is?” Jaune asked, a little incredulously.
“Yes,” Pyrrha insisted. “The view of the city on the flight back will always stir my heart, I hope, and from within the walls...for all its problems, this is Mistral, old and proud and...and mine. I hope to always find it beautiful.”
Jaune looked down at her, a smile upon his face. The smile became a little impish as he said, “You know, if some people heard you calling this city ‘mine,’ they-”
“Oh, no!” Pyrrha said in a tone that was both a groan and a giggle in equal measure. “You’re quite right, of course, which is why I am very glad that there was no one-”
“Ahem.”
Pyrrha’s eyes widened as she heard the voice from behind her, suddenly sensing someone close by when no one had seemed to be there before. Jaune was equally surprised to see someone. Pyrrha turned to see that it was Aska Koryu, the reclusive, seldom-seen Atlesian girl, dressed in her black catsuit and mail mesh, with the neon-pink highlights that did nothing to make her any less inconspicuous to the eye. 
Aska bowed, her straight black hair falling down around her face. “Forgive me,” she said. “It was not my intent to startle you.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Pyrrha said softly. “It’s simply that we didn’t realise you were there.”
“I am a ninja,” Aska reminded them. 
“Yes,” Pyrrha replied. “You certainly are, aren’t you? Is there anything that I could do for you?”
“No,” Aska said. “But I can watch the house of the Rutulus family for you, in place of Lie Ren.”
Pyrrha blinked rapidly. “Watch the- you know about that? You were listening?”
“I am-”
“A ninja, yes, but I didn’t think that meant that you had no concept of privacy,” Pyrrha said sharply. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough,” Aska informed them.
“And yet you don’t seem very surprised or curious,” Jaune pointed out.
Aska made a slight gesture, a tilting of her head very slightly to one side, in what might have been an acknowledgement of that. “I was never a particularly curious child,” she declared. “Much to the disappointment of my father.” She turned away from Pyrrha and Jaune, crossing her arms. “There is much that you know and do of which most within the house are ignorant, no?”
Pyrrha was silent for a little while, but ultimately, she had no choice but to admit it. “That is correct,” she said. “It is not ideal, it may not even be right, but it is necessary.”
“'Necessary,'” Aska repeated. “That is what my father said, when he tried to explain why he served Professor Ozpin as well as his public masters.”
Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “Your father...served Professor Ozpin.”
“Indeed,” Aska said calmly, as if it was no great thing.
“But then...who is he?” Jaune asked.
Aska sighed. “I would prefer not to say,” she replied. “I am no man’s daughter but only Aska Koryu, a warrior of your house.”
“We do not ask to diminish you,” Pyrrha assured her.
“It’s just that we could really use the help,” Jaune said. “Experienced help, from someone who knows what’s going on; it would be invaluable.”
Aska shook her head. “He is too far away to help you. Far, far away, and no doubt preoccupied by troubles in his own land.”
“Oh,” Jaune said, somewhat disconsolately. “That’s...a real pity.”
“Then you know…” Pyrrha trailed off. “How much do you know?”
“I know that there are secrets within secrets and layers underneath the underneath,” Aska said, “but I never wished to see them. I had no patience for Ozpin’s chess game, for the slow moving of pieces in the dark. I wished to see the results of my efforts before my own eyes: like the villages we save and the gratitude of the survivors whom we rescue from the grimm.”
“And yet you offer your services to us now,” Pyrrha pointed out.
Aska nodded her head slightly. “I was no great loss to my father, either as daughter or as pupil. He had others, more attentive to his lessons and more affectionate: warriors swift and thinkers sharp and hearts stalwart to do his bidding. But in this, none may serve you so well as I, who is far better suited to this task then Lie Ren.”
“Are you?” Jaune asked. “What makes you so sure?”
“I am a ninja,” Aska repeated, sounding as though she thought Jaune a little dense for needing it spelled out for the third time. “Stealth is my credo.”
“Indeed,” Pyrrha said quietly. But can we trust you? Anyone could say that their father - their nameless father - had worked for Professor Ozpin...but if she was lying, then that meant that Salem had put a spy in Pyrrha’s own house, and that was a possibility too horrible to contemplate. 
If she was a servant of our enemy, she could have slit my throat in the night and removed the Fall Maiden from the board by now.
And what would a spy gain from offering to spy for me?
Pyrrha stared into Aska’s brown eyes. They were guarded, but she could see no deceit in them.
Not that that proved anything - apparently, the Maidens of old had possessed the power to divine the hearts of men, but Pyrrha had not that skill - but it made her feel a little better as she said, “Very well. Go, if you will, and keep watch for anything out of the ordinary, especially involving Lionheart. And do not be discovered.”
“I shall not,” Aska said proudly.
Pyrrha chuckled. “Of course,” she said. “You are a ninja.”
“Indeed,” Aska replied, as she placed one fist into the palm of her other hand, holding out her arms as she bowed, and as she bowed, she melted back away into the darkness. 
“Do you trust her?” Jaune asked.
“I...think so,” Pyrrha replied. “And she was right, Ren was...only the best choice of some unenviable options.” She smiled at him. “And besides, I think we’ve just made Nora very happy.”
Jaune snorted. “That’s always a good thing.”
“It certainly is,” Pyrrha said. “And now…”
“Autumn?” Jaune suggested.
Pyrrha nodded. “Autumn.”
They found Autumn Blaze, with Arslan, in the study. Arslan was looking at the map of Mistral on the wall, putting red pins into the locations of the four settlements that had come under attack that day. Autumn was sitting down in front of Jaune’s desk, her scroll out, humming to herself.
“La lalalala la la, lala- oh, hey, Pyrrha!” she said cheerily as the two of them came in. “Hey, Jaune! What’s up?”
“Good evening, Autumn,” Pyrrha said, as Jaune shut the door behind them. “I apologise for keeping you waiting.”
“It’s fine,” Autumn said breezily. “Congratulations on all your victories today, I hear some of those fights were pretty tough. Of course, I say that I ‘heard’ that because somebody won’t let me see the footage yet,” she added, with a significant glance towards Jaune.
“Yeah,” Jaune said, slightly awkwardly. “That...might have to wait for a little bit.”
Autumn’s eyes narrowed. “Why do I feel like I’ve been called to the headmaster’s office?”
“It’s not like that,” Arslan assured her. “It’s just…” She looked helplessly at Pyrrha.
Pyrrha cleared her throat as she walked around the room to stand beside Arslan. Then she decided that that looked a little too much like she was ganging up on Autumn, so she sat down on the desk. Then she worried that that was still looking down on Autumn too much, so she ended up kneeling down beside her, looking up at their blogger. 
“Autumn,” she began. “You might not realise this, but...none of us pay that much attention to everything that you write on your blog. I...no offence, but I simply don’t enjoy reading about myself all that much.”
“I do,” Arslan admitted, “but I’m trying not to, as hard as it is sometimes.”
“Unfortunately,” Pyrrha continued. “Arslan and Neptune both had conversations today that...well, it led us to become a little more curious as to just what you were saying. I had to say that when I had the chance to read some of your entries I was, well-”



“Oh my,” Pyrrha murmured, as she sat at the desk and read through some of Autumn’s blogs. “Oh, my word.”



“-I was extremely shocked,” Pyrrha declared.
“Not least by how very...Pyrrha-centric it is,” Arslan said, with just a little grumpiness in her voice. “I thought we were friends.”
“We are friends!” Autumn protested.
“Then why am I barely mentioned in some of these entries?”
“You’re always there,” Autumn said.
“I’m a background character!”
“Not always.”
“Sometimes.”
“That...is not great, I admit,” Autumn acknowledged, “but it’s not my fault that Pyrrha’s taken over the narrative. Okay, it is kind of my fault, but in my defence...nobody seems to want to read about anybody but Pyrrha. Did you look at the comment sections?”
Jaune walked around the desk. “Should we have?”
“If you had, you’d have seen that Pyrrha is the only person that anyone wants to talk about,” Autumn said, with brutal honesty. “I’m sorry, but...apparently, she’s the only likeable and engaging person in the house.”
Arslan made a noise like she was about to choke on her apoplexy.
“The only…” Pyrrha repeated. “Who in Remnant would say a thing like that?”
“Uh...Skippy someone, or maybe it’s pronounced Sippy, I’m not entirely sure?” Autumn ventured. “Apparently, things would get very boring if you weren’t around.”
“Really? What an ungenerous-sounding individual,” Pyrrha said quietly.
“So you’re just catering to the base instincts of the readership?” Arslan demanded. “You were supposed to be better than a PR guy.”
“I’m...warming them up to the rest of you,” Autumn insisted. “I’m trying to. Gradually. This isn’t shock therapy; you can’t just run a block of fourteen entries with the most popular character absent and expect people to put up with it.” She glanced towards something indeterminate. “Not unless they’re very patient and forgiving, at least.”
Jaune sighed. “Autumn...we didn’t actually ask you in here to ask you about Arslan’s lack of character focus.”
“I’m starting to think we should have,” Arslan grumbled.
Jaune ignored her. “I know that we asked you to tell a story about us that would garner public support for our efforts, and you’ve done a great job at that, and we’re all very grateful.”
“But?” Autumn asked.
“But so many people - Councillors and representatives of Mistral’s old families that we have spoken to - seem to be afraid that I want to reclaim my family’s throne,” Pyrrha said. “And it is hurting the defence of this kingdom, and...I can’t help but feel that your presentation of me has had some small part in that. And I suppose that the focus issue does come into it, because perhaps the emphasis upon my heritage and my supposed ‘return’ wouldn’t be so noticeable if it weren’t for the fact that your account - which is also the only account - was so focused on me.”
Autumn Blaze did not reply immediately. She looked Pyrrha in the eye, but at the same time, she appeared to be collecting her thoughts. “Pyrrha,” she said, “if you think that there is a different story to be told here, then what is it?”
“The truth?” Pyrrha suggested. “This isn’t a story, Autumn; this is real life and real people and real consequences,” she added, reminded of Sunset and the way in which she had, at times, seemed convinced that they were at the centre of a grand narrative, the only real people on a stage full of spear-carriers. It was an attitude that, with all the love in the world, had led their friend to some terrible missteps. “This is just a group of good and brave people coming together to defend their kingdom and its people in their hour of need.”
“Under your leadership,” Autumn pointed out.
“Well...yes,” Pyrrha admitted. Technically. In name, at least. I am the one that everyone has sworn to, even if Jaune gives the commands in battle.
“You formed this group,” Autumn said. “You assembled all of these people.”
“With help,” Pyrrha pointed out.
“But they follow you,” Autumn replied. “You are the heir to the throne of Mistral, I didn’t make that up; famous swords and the scions of grand old families have flocked to your banner, I didn’t make that up; you are defending the kingdom when all others stand on the sidelines, I didn’t make that up either. I make the battle descriptions readable, but I don’t change any of the salient details about what happens out in the villages. People were calling you the Princess Without a Crown long before I came into your life. People were calling you the hope of Mistral long before you met me. You say that I should tell the truth, but honestly...it sounds as though your problem is the truth.”
“The truth is that I don’t seek the throne,” Pyrrha declared. “And I never have.”
Autumn winced. “The other unfortunate truth is that everyone who ever sought power declaimed all desire for it until they had it.”
Pyrrha froze. Autumn was, unfortunately, quite correct about that, or at least, she was right about it often enough for it to be not worth the trouble to correct her on the universality of her statement. Autumn was right: she could complain about the presentation all she liked, but the fact was that she had done all these things. And Jaune was right, too: having done these things, she would have attracted envy no matter how it was presented.
“With all that said,” Autumn added, “I am sorry. I didn’t...I didn’t think about how it might...I’m sorry. Arslan, I’m really sorry, I know that everyone here gives their all for Mistral, and I shouldn’t have let the loudest voices in the comment section detract from that. From now on, I will give equal share in the limelight to everyone here.”
“That sounds like a very good idea,” Pyrrha said, because if she could not get away from what she was or what she had done, then perhaps the next best thing would be to present the Myrmidons not as a group of nigh-faceless soldiers under the command of their princess but as a group of gallant individuals, each with their own thoughts and opinions, hopes and dreams, none of which included the restoration of the monarchy and the placing of Pyrrha Nikos upon the Petal Throne. “Talk to them, interview them, show the world that these are not my subjects and that they are here to fight for Mistral, not my rights, that they fight beside me but they do not follow where I lead.”
Perhaps - hopefully - once people understood Sun and Nora and Ren and all the rest a little better, they would see the preposterousness of cowering before the Myrmidons as though they were Pyrrha’s private army.
“Also,” she added, “if you could please see your way clear to giving a little focus to those who we fight to protect. They are our cause, after all, they deserve to be more than background.”
Autumn considered that, nodding along. “Okay,” she said. “You make a good point with that. Does that mean I can come along with you and talk to people after the battle is over?”
Pyrrha considered that in turn. “If you wait on the airship with Photo Finish, then, yes, I suppose you can.”
“Great!” Autumn cried enthusiastically. “I’m sorry about the issues so far, really, I am; starting from now, everything will get a lot better.”
In the circumstances, Pyrrha thought, that might be their best hope.



Juturna floated, lonely as a cloud. 
Because she was one. 
Her semblance, Incorporeality, let her move through the world at will, visible only to the keenest eye as a very fine cloud. It burnt aura, and some brothers might say that it was a waste to use it in her own house like this, but her aura would always regenerate, and to be honest, Juturna liked being able to come and go as she pleased unnoticed, to spy on people, to find out what they were doing and see if she could help make their dreams come true.
And so, invisibly, she floated down the well-decorated corridor, over the intricately patterned carpet, and into her own bedroom where Camilla sat curled up on Juturna's bed.
This was neither a rare occurrence, nor one that Juturna minded. Camilla was her sister in every way bar the biological, and what belonged to Juturna belonged to Camilla, whether it was the small army of stuffed animals surrounding her on the bed or the sword and shield hanging on the wall or the clothes in the wardrobe. She was even welcome to the guitar that rested on her crossed legs and which she was now strumming experimentally.
"Oh, what do I have to do to make you notice-?" Camilla began, her song interrupted when Juturna materialised in front of her – she couldn't touch anything with her semblance activated – to snatch the guitar out of her hands.
"Girl, I love you, but we will have no soppy ballads in this house," Juturna declared, holding the guitar out of Camilla's reach. "The line has to be drawn somewhere."
Camilla Volsci was a fox faunus, what was more, one of the rare faunus to have two animal traits: the vulpine ears poking out of her long white hair and the bushy tail emerging out from the gap between her pink tunic and her white skirt. Her eyes were crimson and filled with a forlorn melancholy as she stared up at Juturna.
"Sorry," she whispered, as though to speak more loudly would cause her too much pain.
"Don't be like that; you know I…and what do you have to be mopey for?" Juturna demanded.
"You know why," Camilla replied.
"I know that he cares about you," Juturna told her. "He always has, more than he realises. You have everything going for you and nothing to worry about; you're kind and fair-"
Camilla laughed bitterly. "Call you me fair? That fair again unsay when Turnus loves only Pyrrha's fair." She turned around and flopped onto her stomach. "Oh, happy fair," she moaned as she buried her face in one of Juturna's pillows.
Juturna's love for her friend could not quite prevent her from rolling her eyes at this. She shut the bedroom door, put the guitar down resting against the wall, and then went back to the bed to give Camilla's exposed tail a good sharp tug.
Camilla let out a squeak of alarm, and her face was red when she faced Juturna once more. "What was that for?"
"To get you to look at me while I tell you to cut that out!" Juturna cried. She bent down so that she and Camilla were at closer to eye level. "You. Have. Nothing. To. Worry. About," she declared, emphasising every single word. "Pyrrha is marrying somebody else."
Camilla's eyes widened. "She is?"
"Yep," Juturna crowed triumphantly. "She came in here wearing the ring on her finger and told Turnus straight up that it was an engagement ring."
Camilla blinked. "From who?"
"That cute blond she brought home from Vale," Juturna said. “She might have returned from the wars with honour and glory alike, but I think she’s happier that she also returned with a man on her arm.”
"You think he's cute?"
Juturna folded her arms. "I know that it's a national sport at the moment to rag on Pyrrha's taste in men, but I really do, yeah. I mean, he could do with a haircut, something short back and sides maybe, but…anyway, that is not the point. The point is that she's engaged. She's engaged, and she's in love, and the field is wide open for you, provided that you get off your bushy tail and do something about it! Make a move!"
"How am I supposed to make a move?" Camilla demanded. "On Turnus, of all people? He's rich, from an old family as noble as any in Mistral…and he's so strong and…and passionate and…manly; he has those arms, those strong arms that I-"
"Why don't you tell him what you want him to do with his strong arms? You might actually get somewhere," Juturna said exasperatedly.
Camilla's face reddened yet further. "The point…what I was trying to say was that…he's too good for me; I'm just the faunus charity case you let stay with you."
"You're not a charity case; you're the best bowshot in all of Mistral for crying out loud," Juturna said. "I can't believe this. I've seen you stand your ground against a giant nevermore, but confessing your feelings is too much for you?"
"The nevermore was only going to kill and eat me," Camilla said. "Turnus might reject me, and I’d be alive to have to deal with it."
"You have to do something," Juturna told her. "Things can't go on like this, especially now you don't have any excuses." She seized Camilla by the shoulders and hauled her off the bed and onto her feet. "I am going to see you happy if it kills me," she declared. Or if it kills everyone else in Mistral, come to that.
There was a firm knocking at the door. "Juturna? Are you in there?" Turnus called from the other side.
"Uh, just a second," Juturna replied, before dropping her voice. "I've got a great idea. You hide in the closet, and when he comes in, I will recommend you to him."
Camilla's eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure that's the great idea you think it is."
"Come on," Juturna whispered. "It'll be fun!"
“For you, maybe, but that doesn’t mean it will help me,” Camilla hissed. “And wasn’t this in that play we saw last week?”
"Sister, I need to speak to you," Turnus said.
"Yeah, I know, give me a minute, okay?" Juturna shouted at him, before returning her attention to Camilla. "Trust me. I am the best matchmaker you will ever have. Now go on."
In spite of the incredibly reluctant look on her face, Camilla allowed herself to be shoved into Juturna's closet amongst the mixture of Mistralian haute couture and Weiss Schnee-branded t-shirts. Juturna shut the door on her, before finally returning to the bedroom door and throwing it open. Turnus was standing on the other side, looking a little impatient. He frowned slightly as he looked over the top of her head into the room.
"What?" Juturna asked.
"I thought I could hear you talking to someone," Turnus murmured.
"Oh, was I talking to myself again?" Juturna asked. "I've got to try and keep an eye on that. So anyway," she continued, turning her back on him for a moment and retreating into the room to stand beside the white wardrobe in which Camilla was concealed, "what can I do for you, Big Brother?"
Turnus walked slowly into the room, still looking around as though he expected to find someone else there. "Pyrrha Nikos came to visit me today," he said.
"I know," Juturna said. "I caught her on the way out. Great news about the engagement, huh? We need to think of a wedding present."
Turnus growled wordlessly, as his hands clenched into fists.
"Don't be like that," Juturna chided him. "Nobody likes a sore loser, especially one who wasn't really in the race to start with."
"Her mother gave me expectations," Turnus began.
"And that would have been a great help if you were trying to marry her mother," Juturna said. "Fortunately, it seems that Pyrrha herself has other ideas."
"'Fortunately'?" Turnus demanded.
"Yes, fortunately," Juturna replied. "I've never understood why you wanted her…okay, yes, I can understand it, but come on! It's done. Do you think she's the only woman in Mistral worthy of you?"
"Of course not," Turnus snapped, as he turned away from her for a moment. "But when I take power in Mistral, my legitimacy will be greatly enhanced by a marriage to the legitimate heir to the throne."
"Well, if it's only legitimacy you're after, then maybe you should marry the mother and let Pyrrha be happy with her blond cutie," Juturna suggested. She shook her head. "I know that you want to be King of Mistral. And you will. And you will be a great king, the king this kingdom needs, and I will support you every step of the way and do whatever I must to make it happen. But do you really want to be a king trapped in a loveless marriage to a queen who hates you? I mean, what are you going to do? Are you going to kill the Valish boy, do you think that's the way to Pyrrha's heart? Because, as a girl, let me tell you…no. Just, no. And you don't need her. Maybe a royal marriage would have been nice to have, but the way things are going, people are going to start begging you to overthrow the council soon." They'd better, the way that Lionheart is making sure that nothing gets done. "Why don't you think about someone else? Someone who can make you happy, a helpmeet on the throne, someone to share your burdens, to comfort you; someone who has always been there by your side, supporting you every step of the way. Someone who might be so much closer than you think. Someone…under this very roof, in fact."
Turnus looked at her as though she had started to worry him. "Sister, is there something you want to tell me?"
"No, what –aah! No!" Juturna yelped as she realised abruptly what he thought she meant. "No! Ugh! Why would you even think that?"
"What else was I supposed to think?" Turnus asked.
There was a loud bang from inside the wardrobe, as though someone had just slammed his or her head into the door.
Both Rutulus siblings fell silent.
"What was that?" Turnus demanded.
"What was what?" Juturna asked innocently.
"The banging from inside the wardrobe," Turnus said.
"Oh, that," Juturna said. "That's just my, uh, loud wardrobe." She smiled as she leaned against the closet.
Turnus stared at her with bemused incredulity. "I don't really care what you're up to, Sister, but I came here with a serious question: Who is Salem?"
Juturna swallowed. Pyrrha, Pyrrha, Pyrrha, why did you have to go and open your mouth? "'Salem'? That…that is an unusual name. Where did you hear that?"
"Pyrrha," Turnus said, confirming what Juturna already knew. "She said that Lionheart was working for someone named Salem, and she thought that I was too. She seemed very concerned."
Juturna studied her fingernails ostentatiously. "You know, Pyrrha's got a lot to be concerned about, rushing around trying to save the world like she's doing."
"Juturna," Turnus said, his voice stern as he took a step towards her. "Enough games. Who is Salem, why do they concern Pyrrha, and what is Lionheart doing here?"
"You know what Lionheart is doing here," replied Juturna. "He's helping you."
"But why did you want him here?"
"To help you!" Juturna cried. "Everything that I do is to help you, to bring about your hopes and dreams, for the sake of your happiness." She paused. "But some of the ways I do it are my business. Put the name of Salem out of your mind; you don't need to concern yourself with that."
"If you have brought something into my house-"
"It's my house, too," Juturna reminded him.
"But not ours alone," Turnus replied. "Camilla dwells here also, and if you put her in danger through your plots…if any harm came to her, I don't know if I could ever forgive you."
A lovelorn sigh issued from out of the wardrobe.
Turnus said, "Camilla, what are you doing in there?"
"I'm starting to wonder that myself," Camilla admitted.
Turnus opened the wardrobe door and stepped back to let Camilla climb out. "Do I want to know?"
"I certainly don't want you to," Camilla murmured as she emerged, white-faced with embarrassment. She glared at Juturna. "That was not fun," she declared.
"I tried," Juturna said with a helpless shrug.
Turnus said, "Is this all as much a mystery to you as it is to me?"
"Salem? I have never heard the name before."
Which was how I wanted it, Juturna thought. "It's not a name you need to know."
"Then why does Pyrrha know it?" Turnus demanded. "And what is the connection to Lionheart? Pyrrha told me that Lionheart had betrayed Mistral but would not say to whom; is that to do with Salem also?"
"Juturna," Camilla said, her voice soft but firm, "if you have brought the enmity of Pyrrha Nikos upon us, we have the right to know."
"I have brought nothing," Juturna cried. "If there is enmity, it is on Pyrrha's part and no fault of mine; I wish her nothing but the best. Nor do I know what she knows – or thinks she knows – of Salem."
"What do you know?"
"I know…I know…" Juturna hesitated, wondering where to start. I asked a hole in the ground to help me make my brother a king and my best friend a queen. I asked the Dark Mother to help me make my family's dreams come true. "I know that I am your sister and your best friend, and I would never hurt you, nor allow you to come to harm, nor allow any peril into your lives, because you are both dearer to me than life itself. Is that not also enough for you to know?"
Turnus stared into her eyes, his hands moving slowly as he reached out to her. "Yes," he said. "It is enough, provided that you also add that you will not put yourself in danger. For you are dear to me also."
"To both of us," Camilla added, placing her hand on top of the joined hands of the two siblings.
Juturna smiled. "Never fear," she said. "I will always be with you. Whether you want me to be or not."
Camilla snorted, her white hair falling across her face as she gave an involuntary bow.
"I will leave you then," Turnus said and turned to go.
"And so will I," Camilla added, following after him. "Take care."
"Good luck," Juturna said, pointing at the retreating Turnus. "Do something!" she hissed.
Camilla shook her head in fright and made her exit before Juturna could press her further upon the point. She shut the door behind her, leaving Juturna alone.
I’ll never tell you what I’ve done, and it won’t matter as long as you’re happy.
Salem will give me the power to sweep aside all obstacles in your path, and that’s all my heart desires.
Because you’re my family and my best friends.
And I’d never turn away, or let you down when you really needed me. Not even for the world.