The Maiden’s Choice
Thanks to her mother informing her last night of what had passed between her and their friends upon the council, Pyrrha was not surprised by a visit from Councillor Ward the next morning. She was not curious as to why he had come, only as to what in specific he had brought with him.
She received him in the airy drawing room on the first floor, where the large windows admitted not only a great quantity of light but also offered a stunning view of the beautiful grounds of the Nikos estate. The walls were scarlet, with golden leaf patterns tracing their curved and willowy ways across the red background, while columns of golden marble - structurally unnecessary but rather lovely to look on - affected to support the corners of the room. Pyrrha was accompanied by Jaune, her mother, and also by the councillor's son, Cicero Ward the Younger. Pyrrha was armoured but not armed, as was the younger Cicero, while Jaune was neither; her mother wore a gown of red, trimmed with cloth-of-gold.
"Young Lady Pyrrha, the sight of you gladdens the eye, just as the news of your accomplishments gladdens the heart of every true son or daughter of Mistral," Councillor Ward declared as he strode into the room. "The Champion of Mistral indeed."
Pyrrha smiled and leaned forward to let him plant a pair of kisses on her cheeks. "You flatter me with your praise, Councillor, just as you honour us with your presence. You know my mother, of course, and I believe you've met," - her smile widened and became brighter - "my fiancée, Jaune Arc."
Councillor Ward's thin eyebrows rose just a little as his eyes darted to the ring on Pyrrha's finger. "Congratulations, young man, you have plucked the fairest rose in Mistral and will be the envy of the city for it. You are fortunate indeed."
"I'm well aware, sir, thank you," replied Jaune softly as he reached out and took Pyrrha's hand in his own.
"And of course your own son, our valiant comrade," Pyrrha added.
"Indeed," Councillor Ward repeated. "I hope, young Cicero, that you continue to fight bravely and live virtuously."
A smile played upon Cicero's face. "How can I not, Father, when you have sent me such a long description of what it is to do so?" To which his father only chuckled in reply.
"Please, Councillor, take a seat," Pyrrha said, gesturing with her free hand – the hand on which gleamed her engagement ring – to one of the armchairs.
"Thank you, child," Councillor Ward said, taking the seat indicated by her. Pyrrha and Jaune sat down upon the green settee opposite, with Lady Nikos taking the chair upon their left and the younger Cicero the chair to their right.
Councillor Ward waited a moment for everyone to be seated before he said, "I take it that you all know why I am here?"
"You have a proposal that will make us legitimate," Cicero said.
"Quite so, my boy," Councillor Ward replied. "I have spoken to Lord Thrax, and he will not make any public offer to you for obvious reasons-"
"He wants to make sure that it won't be refused," Jaune said.
Councillor Ward nodded. "Precisely, Mister Arc; he will not extend his hand only to have it spat upon. Hence why I have come, to ensure that any offer that he makes to you will be accepted so that, by the time that the public learns of this, there is nothing left but the theatre of proclaiming what has already been decided."
Pyrrha nodded. "Thank you, Councillor, for your efforts on our behalf. What offer is Lord Thrax willing to extend to us?"
"A very reasonable one, in many respects," Councillor Ward assured her. "Lord Thrax is sorely vexed by the proliferation of armed companies within the city; therefore, identical overtures are being made to Lady Ming and to Lord Rutulus."
"And to the Iron Grenadiers?" Jaune asked pointedly.
Councillor Ward's laughter had an edge of discomfort to it. "No, dear boy; our policy ought, of course, to be guided by principle, but it must also be directed by prudence. One should not rush to make an enemy of MARS."
"Doesn't the fact that no one is so afraid of making an enemy of us prove that there's nothing to fear and all of this is pointless?" Jaune replied.
Councillor Ward hesitated for a moment. "An interesting argument, to be sure, but – although I have and do support your efforts to defend our kingdom – I must say that the principle that the defence of the kingdom ought to be organised under the authority of the kingdom's government is one with which I am in agreement."
"If only the government of the kingdom was prepared to defend the kingdom," Pyrrha remarked.
"Quite so," Councillor Ward acknowledged. "Much confusion and many misunderstandings have hampered that first duty of the Council, but with goodwill from all concerned, those misunderstandings can soon be banished to the past. If you will hear the terms."
"We wait with bated breath, Councillor," Lady Nikos said, her voice betraying a touch of impatience.
"Of course," Councillor Ward said. He cleared his throat, pausing for a moment as the sound of birdsong from the gardens outside penetrated the windows. "The Steward of Mistral proposes to create a unified command structure for the defence of Mistral. The Myrmidons, Lady Ming's company, and Rutulian Security would each continue to be led by their own chosen commanders, but all – together with the police, the Imperial Guard, and all other huntsmen presently under the command of the Steward – will swear obedience to the Council and to its appointed Captain-General, who will command all forces in the kingdom and direct them to the best advantage of the kingdom's defence."
"Has the Captain-General been chosen already?" Pyrrha asked.
"Indeed; it will be Lady Terri-Belle Thrax, Captain of the Imperial Guard and a huntress of skill and renown," Councillor Ward replied. "All operational commands will come from her, and no action to be taken by any company without her leave."
Pyrrha could not help but frown at that. "So, if we were to receive a distress call, we could not go to the aid of them who sent it without first approaching Lady Terri-Belle for her leave to do so?"
"It is so, but I cannot see that she would deny that leave," Councillor Ward said. "What reason would she have to do so?"
"I cannot think of any, but that doesn't mean that precious time could not be lost in the delay," Pyrrha deliberated aloud. Although, in truth, it was not so much that which worried her – that could be mitigated against, by assembling on the docking pads and making ready to go as soon as they got the go-ahead, for instance – but the crushing blow that would be dealt to her autonomy to act against menaces of which Terri-Belle was as yet unaware. How could she defend Mistral against Salem under those conditions? How could she explain her need to move to, for example, retrieve the Spring Maiden or protect the Relic of Choice, to Terri-Belle? At present, as much as some quarters might suspect her motives, she was yet free to act as she wished to keep Mistral safe from all the menaces that surrounded it. Under this arrangement that had been put to her, she would free herself from suspicion, but at the same time, she would give up the freedom to protect her kingdom. She had no wish to defy the Council, and the Champion of Mistral might have found this proposal, limiting though it was, acceptable. But she was not only the Champion of Mistral but the Fall Maiden, and the Fall Maiden could not surrender her autonomy so easily. Pyrrha took a deep breath. "I am sorry, Councillor, but as things stand – as you have described them – I must decline."
Councillor Ward blinked rapidly in surprise. "Decline?" he repeated. "You mean-"
"I am happy to place myself at the disposal of the Council," Pyrrha said. "But I must be allowed some freedom to act as I see fit."
"Must you?" Councillor Ward replied. "Why?"
"Because…because I trust my own judgement," Pyrrha said quietly, "too much to completely set it aside."
"Pyrrha!" Cicero hissed. "What are you saying? We're being offered a chance to legitimise ourselves-"
"We're not illegitimate right now," Jaune reminded him.
"Not yet," Councillor Ward replied. "If Lady Ming and Lord Rutulus bend the knee to the Steward, it will be difficult to explain why you will not."
"I understand," Pyrrha said, "but I am afraid that I must ask you to trust me, Councillor."
"Trust you," Cicero the Younger said. "I did trust you, I trusted that you – that we – were doing the right thing, no matter how some people disapproved, but now, when you have a chance to prove our good intentions, you throw it in my father's face." He scowled. "Perhaps those who call you a would-be tyrant are right about you after all."
"That's ridiculous!" Jaune snapped. "In all the time you've been here, Pyrrha has done nothing but work to the good of Mistral and you know that."
"You're both being given the opportunity to work for the good of Mistral, and you're turning it down!" Cicero cried. "For no good reason."
Jaune's voice was cold. "If you don't believe in what we're doing anymore, then you're free to go."
Cicero was silent for a moment, looking from his father to Pyrrha and then back again. "I still believe in what we're doing," he declared. "I'm just no longer sure that's all we're doing."
You are right to be so uncertain; more's the pity, Pyrrha thought.
"I must confess that I also find my faith in this venture somewhat shaken by your intransigence," Councillor Ward concurred. "Is there nothing that I can say to change your mind?"
"You can ask Lord Thrax to grant me a little more latitude in action," Pyrrha said. "And, at the same time, suggest to him the dismissal of Leonardo Lionheart from his post as headmaster of Haven Academy. I am willing to serve the Council; I desire nothing but to see our kingdom secured against danger. But as it is, I cannot consent to what you have proposed."
Councillor Ward shook his head. "Lady Nikos, will you not speak sense to your daughter?"
"I have found that, since I began to listen more closely, my daughter speaks a great deal of sense herself," Lady Nikos replied.
Any further discussion was interrupted by the sound of footsteps running down the corridor. Arslan burst through the door, looking to Pyrrha and Jaune over Councillor Ward's head. "We've got trouble," she said. "Uiharu just got a distress call, Manjushage is under attack."
Jaune ran down the corridors, his footsteps a swift drumbeat upon the wooden floor of the house as he made his way towards and down the stairs. All around him, the house was abuzz with activity as people armed themselves, checked their weapons, and made their way out of the house. Uiharu had already notified almost all the Myrmidons via their scrolls; it was only the fact that Pyrrha and Jaune had left their scrolls so as not to be disturbed in their meeting with Councillor Ward that had necessitated Arslan to come and get them.
Pyrrha had the vanguard today herself, so her group – Team PRAN, Team JAMM, and Swift Foot – would be in the air first, while other teams dressed for battle, got back from wherever in the city they were, assembled in their teams, and followed as quickly as they could. At least it was only one village under attack this time.
Under attack from what, though? He wouldn't know that until he reached the stable.
He had already kissed Pyrrha goodbye. He had kissed her goodbye in the drawing room, in spite of witnesses, because by the time she got Miló and Akoúo̱ from her room, there wouldn't be time for a goodbye kiss. He had kissed her goodbye as she went into battle, not knowing yet what she would be facing when she got there.
He left the house, passing Ren and Nora in the hallway with barely any time to acknowledge their presence as he burst out of the front door and sprinted across the grounds into the shade of the stable. Uiharu was already waiting for him there, sitting on her chair at the drone controls, her expression anxious.
Jaune slowed to a halt beside her. "What's going on?"
"I-I'm not sure," Uiharu replied. "We got a distress call from Manjushage, but it's already been cut off."
"'Cut off'?" Jaune repeated. There's no way that the village could have been overrun that fast, is there? "Did they say what they were being attacked by? Grimm or bandits?"
"Bandits, I think," Uiharu said. "They…here, I'll bring up the message." Her scroll sat on the desk in front of her, next to the squat and square control console for the drone; Uiharu picked up the smaller device and began to tap at it, her fingers flying over the screen.
One of the projectors established in front of her stirred to life, activating to display an image of a woman in earthy, workaday robes, her eyes wide with fear as she stared out of the screen. "This…this is an urgent message from Manjushage. We're under attack; you have to help us!"
Uiharu's voice, recorded, issued forth. "Of course. Arslan, tell Pyrrha. What's attacking you? Is it the grimm?"
"No, they're not grimm; they must be bandits. They drove into our village: a truck, some kind of armoured vehicle…and now there’s this gas everywhere and…" she began to cough as a green haze began to spread throughout the room around her. She tried to cover her mouth with her sleeve, but it was no good. Jaune could see her beginning to sway on her feet. “You…have…help.” She collapsed, disappearing out of view.
“Ma’am?” Uiharu’s recorded voice cried. “Ma’am, can you hear me?”
There was a robotic clanking sound from somewhere just out of view. An android, an Atlesian AK-130, entered the frame; its visor was glowing red as blood as it stared into the screen.
The recording ended in a burst of static.
"That's it," Uiharu murmured.
Jaune folded his arms across his chest, a frown settling across his face. "They got into the village by pretending to be friendly. That’s new, and disturbing. Get the drone in the air."
"Right," Uiharu said, her fingers flying across the drone controls to activate the flier before she gripped the black stick jutting up from the control panel to guide it upwards into the air.
The projected screen blinked to life once more, showing an image of the Nikos family garden as the drone rose up off the ground and, guided by Uiharu, began to fly.
"Bandits don’t usually operate like that, do they?" Uiharu said, as the drone soared over the streets of Mistral, the slopes of the mountain – covered in houses, in gardens, in open market squares – falling away beneath the underslung camera as the mountain and the city alike gave way to the fertile fields and farming townships that lay around. She glanced at Jaune. "And where did they get Atlesian mechs?"
"The same place Manjushage got them," Jaune muttered. “The Atlesians left a lot of stuff behind when they pulled out for home after Beacon Tower fell.” Although that doesn’t explain where they got the gas from, plus enough protective gear that they could use it safely. MARS, maybe. “And, yeah, it’s not great that they’re using ruses and, well, strategy now. But I guess we can’t be too surprised; there’s no way that a conventional attack on that town would have succeeded.” Manjushage was one of the most prosperous settlements under the protection of the Myrmidons, a prosperity underpinned – since ancient times, according to Pyrrha - by sericulture. When Jaune had observed the initial set-up of defences in Manjushage, he had also seen the vast acres of mulberries surrounding the town, all of them being devoured by hungry silkworms, until the time came for the silkworms themselves to be devoured.
Manjushage had used this prosperity to purchase additional defences for their community: MARS turrets and Atlesian androids – a mixture of AK-200s, the older AK-130s, even a couple of automated Paladins – left behind by the Atlesian forces when they pulled out and which had been rescued by enterprising scrap dealers.
Honestly, Manjushage was one of the toughest nuts to crack in the whole region that Pyrrha and her comrades protected, and Jaune thought that the average bandit tribe would have given it a miss and moved on in search of an easier target. It had taken an unusually subtle and intelligent – and well-resourced – kind of bandit to conceive of an attack that would penetrate the town’s defences.
"Try hailing them again," Jaune said. "Actually, no, you concentrate on the drone. I'll hail them." He got out his scroll – keeping one eye on the camera feed from their drone as it soared swiftly across the lands of Mistral, flying like an arrow towards its destination – and tried to raise Manjushage.
There was no response.
"Jaune," Pyrrha's voice broke into his ear, "we're in the air now, what are we looking at?"
"Bandit attack, I think,” Jaune replied. “It seems as though they gained entry into the town under false pretences and then unleashed some kind of gas on the population."
“'Gas'?”
“Yes, so be careful,” Jaune said. “They may also have Atlesian androids with them.”
“We can deal with that; it’s the gas that concerns me,” Pyrrha replied. “Do you know what it does?”
“No, and we can’t find out because communications are down, destroyed by one of the androids. Once the drone gets overhead, I'll let you know what you're up against."
"Thank you."
Jaune kept on trying to raise Manjushage. There was never any response. He couldn't even establish a connection with it. It was like he'd said to Pyrrha: the issue wasn't that nobody was answering; it was that he couldn't even get a signal through to their relay. In the meantime, the drone soared across the land, passing over farm and field and forest, over other towns and villages that, thankfully, were not in need of their protection today, over rills and rivers, over herds of deer running free and herds of goats running the herdsmen ragged, over dairy farms and tobacco plantations. It flew over Mistral until Manjushage itself began to crest into view, at which point, Jaune stopped trying to reach the town and started focussing all of his attention on the view out of the camera being projected up in front of him.
Gas was rising out of the town, a dark and sickly green colour, clogging and choking the town, even as it rose up into the sky. The breeze, moving northwards, pushed the rising gas a little in that direction, beginning to disperse it, but it was doing its work so slowly. The town continued to be engulfed, for the moment, in a thick green haze that acted like a smoke screen. It was impossible for him to see what was going on within the walls. All he could make out were shapes, very large, bulky shapes, moving in the smoke, obscured by the haze.
"Can you get a better resolution?" he asked. Whatever was in there…were they mechs? The image was so poor that he couldn’t say; he didn't know what he was looking at.
"I can try and magnify," Uiharu said. She reached for the controls with her free hand, but as she did so, there was a swift and sudden movement in front of the camera before the screen went black.
“What happened?” Jaune demanded. “Did we just lose the drone?”
Uiharu tapped a few buttons on the control console. “It’s not responding.”
Jaune bit back a curse. Anti-air capability too? These bandits are way too well-equipped. "Get another drone up in the air; this time, we'll approach from maximum altitude and hope they can’t hit us that high up." He tapped his earpiece to unmute it. "Pyrrha, we just lost our drone."
"Did you get a look at what we’re up against?"
"No," Jaune confessed. "The gas was acting like a smoke screen, but worst case, they have mechs and AA capability.”
“That’s a lot of firepower for a bandit tribe,” Pyrrha murmured grimly.
“I know. Be careful out there in those airships. I'm trying to deploy another drone, but…be careful."
"Always," Pyrrha said. "Though my main concern…is that it sounds like we might already be too late."
By this point, Uiharu had managed to get the second drone up into the air, and Jaune watched the images relayed back from its camera with a sense of constant apprehension that stalked him like a wolf stalking a deer in the thicket. He felt restless with unease, goosebumps rising on his arms. He didn't like not knowing what Pyrrha and the others were walking into.
All the images coming back from the drone were much smaller than they had been before, a consequence of the drone being much higher. He could have asked Uiharu to magnify, but for the moment, he preferred the wider view, even if it meant that he couldn't catch the detail. The drone flew across the land, passing the airships that were carrying Pyrrha and her comrades into battle, outstripping the main body and even the vanguard in the race to Manjushage.
Jaune noticed, abruptly, that Lady Nikos and Councillor Ward had emerged from the house. While Councillor Ward lingered in the stable doorway, Lady Nikos approached to stand beside him.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"A bandit attack of some kind, but we’re a bit unsure of the details right now," Jaune replied. "My lady."
She shook her head. "There is no need to stand on ceremony here, Mister Arc. You are the commander; I am merely an observer."
Jaune grunted. If I'm the commander, why don't I know what's going on?
Once more, a drone approached the town, and once more, Jaune saw that the gas, for all that it was beginning to be blown away by the wind, was yet lying thick enough to obscure the town from aerial view. This time, however, nothing shot down their drone or attempted to intercept it in any way. There was only the gas, thick and green and slowly being blown away.
There was no sign of any fighting still going on at Manjushage. Bizarrely, the acres of mulberries on which the silkworms fed fat to give the town its great prosperity were untouched.
And as far as he could tell, there was nothing moving in the gaseous haze.
"Are…are we too late?" Uiharu asked plaintively. "Already? How…how is that possible?"
"I don't know," Jaune confessed. It made no sense at all. The bandits had launched a sneak attack, driving their truck and their AFV – it occurred to Jaune that that might be a transforming mech of some sort – into Manjushage, possibly with a flag or something that suggested they were friendly. Anyway, they had gotten inside and unleashed gas. Okay, if you accepted that as well as gas, they had protective gear, then that made sense; they could get started on their looting faster. But you couldn’t fit a whole bandit tribe – able to get its hands on large amounts of gas, and with the kind of record of success that would give them the confidence to come up with a plan like this – into one truck. So where were the rest? Why was there no sign of them? Was this entire attack being executed by ten or twelve guys? Putting himself in the shoes of a bandit chief, if he had possession of a large amount of gas, he would have dropped it and then only sent his people in after it had started to take effect, not beforehand. It didn’t make any sense. And where were they now?
And why haven’t we heard of any bandit tribe able to pull off this kind of operation before?
"Circle around in an increasing radius,” Jaune instructed Uiharu.
"Looking for what?"
"Survivors, the bandits, grimm, anything!" Jaune snapped. He sighed. "Sorry, I just…I'm a little on edge."
"I get it," Uiharu said softly. "Starting the search."
"Thank you," Jaune murmured. "Pyrrha…I've got bad news."
Too late.
The words reverberated through Pyrrha’s mind, two words repeating over and over again like a drumbeat. Too late.
She knelt in the airship doorway, one hand resting upon the door. She was looking out for any sign of attack – such as by whatever had destroyed one of their drones – but really, she wanted to avoid looking at anyone else for fear that she would see her shame written upon their faces. Too late. No enemy to fight, no grimm to defeat…no settlement to save.
It didn’t matter that it was incredible that they could get in and get out so swiftly; it didn’t matter that they had not – could not have – see this coming. All that mattered was that they hadn’t saved Manjushage.
All that mattered was that they were too late.
A town depending on them for protection, all those people who had put their trust in her and her companions, and they had let them down.
Too late.
Pyrrha felt a hand upon her shoulder, Arslan’s hand, as the other girl knelt down beside her. “This isn’t your fault,” Arslan said.
“It can be no one’s fault but mine,” Pyrrha replied.
“I think the bandits might have had something to do with it,” Arslan remarked. “You were as fast as anyone could have been.”
“Not fast enough,” Ren declared gloomily.
“No one could have gotten here from Mistral any faster,” Arslan insisted.
Maybe not, Pyrrha thought, but perhaps with more resources, the town could have been defended in some way.
With resources that, ultimately, only the Council could provide.
I prized my autonomy because I needed the freedom to defend Mistral. What would the people of Manjushage say about that?
“Pyrrha,” Arslan said sharply, breaking into her thoughts, “what else could you have done, huh? Answer me that.”
I could have accepted the Steward’s offer, Pyrrha thought. It would not have saved Manjushage, but it might have ensured that there could be no repeat.
Perhaps…might there still be time?
“These particular bandits are…extraordinarily intelligent and well-equipped,” Swift Foot observed. “Quite out of the ordinary. I’m sure there’s no way that either you or Jaune could have foreseen something like this. There is no shame in it, for either of you.”
“There is always shame in failure,” Pyrrha insisted. “Especially when that failure is…especially when people are depending on you.”
“But we can’t let it rule us,” Nora said, speaking to Pyrrha and Ren both. “Not right now. We don’t know what’s waiting for us down there, we might still need to fight, and we need everyone at their best, not…this.”
Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, before she got to her feet. “Trust me, Nora,” she said coldly. “I am quite prepared to fight.”
“Speaking of which,” Arslan said. “Jaune, what’s waiting for us? What do you see?”
“The gas is largely dispersed now, so you should be able to land,” Jaune replied. “The town is intact, but I can’t see any people.”
“Oh, gods,” Pyrrha murmured. She couldn’t see any reason why bandits would move the bodies, so then that must mean... “Where have they taken them? A convoy with so many prisoners can’t have just disappeared!”
“We can’t see anything,” Jaune replied. “No vehicles, no prisoners, nothing. It’s like they vanished.”
“A small group couldn’t abduct a whole town full of incapacitated people,” Ren said. “And a large group couldn’t vanish so completely.”
“What about the town’s defences?” Arslan asked.
“Taken out,” Jaune said. “I can see the wreckage of the androids in the street.”
Swift Foot’s face was pale, and her expression pained. “Are you sure some of them aren’t-?“
“Yes,” Jaune cut her off. “Trust me;I’m sure.”
“Keep searching the area for any sign of the enemy,” Pyrrha ordered. “We’ll search the town for survivors.”
“Understood,” Jaune said. “Good luck in there.”
The airships carried Teams PRAN and JAMM over the mulberry fields and the town walls until they were over Manjushage itself. The town was a fairly typical example of a Mistralian settlement built in the Qing style, with sloping roofs and high, pagoda-like towers. The streets were paved and so, a little more unusually, were the roads leading away from town, which meant that they couldn't attempt to track the town's attackers as they could have over dirt tracks in the right conditions.
This town had survived since ancient times, when Mistral was young and the kingdom was in the bloom of its strength; it had survived as Mistral had reached the zenith of its glory and entered into its long decline; it had survived Red Queens and grimm attacks; it had survived the Great War and the Faunus Revolution. But now, in a single day, this town had died. Because she had been too late.
Too late and arrogant and selfish beyond words.
Now that they were overhead, Pyrrha could see what Jaune had reported: the town itself looked to have escaped damage for the most part; there were some houses that had been damaged and one or two that had been wrecked by the use of what looked like high-powered weapons of some description...high powered energy weapons that had left burn marks where they had struck.
High powered energy weapons...or magic.
The Branwen Tribe? It made more sense than the alternative of rogue Atlesian forces running amok throughout Mistral. Raven Branwen had the Spring Maiden in her hands, she had tried to get Yang and Ruby for her tribe, she might have an interest in acquiring powerful weapons of every kind, technological and living and magical.
Though even that doesn’t explain how they managed to get out so quickly and evade our eyes.
A frown creased her features; if this was the work of the Branwen tribe and the Spring Maiden, then it seemed that the possibility of bringing her back to Mistral peacefully might be forestalled by the Maiden’s character. It was likely to end as Jaune had predicted it would.
Arslan, Nora, I hope you’re ready.
I’m sorry that you must be ready.
The defences of Manjushage had been wrecked, and the androids that the town had purchased were now scattered in pieces throughout the streets. Assuming that the gas had done its work across the entire town, Pyrrha guessed that it was the battle with the androids that had caused what little evidence of devastation that they could see.
But how did they manage to do this so quickly, to leave before we arrived? Even accounting for the power of the Spring Maiden, looting a town took time, or at least she presumed it did, and there was no way that they could have stolen everything that they had come for so swiftly. A teleporting semblance would explain how they were able to get in and out, but to do on such a large scale – Sunset had struggled to teleport with one or two other people – would surely drain aura at a fantastic rate, to the extent that even someone as prodigiously supplied with it as Jaune would struggle.
Wouldn't it?
She was wasting time in these thoughts to which she had no answer. Even if she was too late to save Manjushage, nevertheless, this was where her duty lay, for now. They had work to do.
"Let's go," Pyrrha said, before she leapt down out of the airship to land in Manjushage's town square; a statue of the town's founder, dressed in his ceremonial robes, looked down upon her. Pyrrha could not help but think that he looked with disapproval.
The rest of her team, including Swift Foot, followed her down, all of them landing upon the stones of the square, swiftly joined by the four members of Team JAMM. They all looked around, weapons ready but seeing no one on whom to use those weapons.
"What happened here?" Medea murmured.
"That's what we're all wondering," Arslan replied.
"Split up and search for survivors," Pyrrha commanded. "But be careful. There might still be some pockets of gas lurking."
"Atalanta," Jaune said, "can you find a high vantage point and keep watch for any grimm that might have been attracted by the attack?"
Pyrrha nodded. Of course, she had forgotten that; no matter how swift the attack had been, no matter how quickly the gas had done its work, that moment of realisation, the time the gas took to take effect would have engendered a swirl of negative emotions – fear, chiefly – and that would bring the grimm.
"Understood," Atalanta said gruffly, her wild hair tossing about her head as she looked around. Her eyes fell upon a tall pagoda rising above the town and its walls, and she ran towards it, leaping from roof to roof until she was standing at the very top, bow in hand, watching.
The rest of them split up: Meleager, Arslan, and Swift Foot set off on their own; Jason and Medea stuck together, as did Ren and Nora. For the former two, Pyrrha thought it was because Medea was not the best fighter once you got past her semblance; for the latter, Nora probably didn't think Ren ought to be alone. Judging by the look in his eyes, Pyrrha was inclined to agree.
Pyrrha, left alone by all the others as they scattered in various directions throughout the town, lingered for a moment in the square, under the founder's disapproving gaze that seemed to demand to know why she had not saved his people. "Jaune," she said, "have you found anything?"
The silence told her all she needed to know even before he answered her. "No," he admitted. "I can't see how they could be hiding or gotten away so fast, but…no, nothing. Teleportation semblance?"
"I thought of that, but…perhaps," Pyrrha conceded. "It does explain it." She frowned. "Jaune, I…"
"Pyrrha?"
"Nothing," Pyrrha said. "We'll talk about it later. Keep searching. I need to start doing the same."
"Okay," Jaune said, his voice quiet and understanding. "I'll be here."
"I know," Pyrrha replied. "But thank you for reminding me." She switched Miló into its rifle form and kept Akoúo̱ slung across her back as she turned towards a large house on the east side of the square. "Inform the others that this is now a search and rescue mission."
"I will," Jaune said glumly.
Pyrrha walked quickly towards the house, her steps echoing off the stones of the otherwise silent square. The door - a splash of blue amidst the white walls – was open, or rather, it had been forced open; it had splintered where someone had kicked it in. At any rate, it did not stop Pyrrha from entering, passing through the doorway into a spacious hallway, with houseplants growing in the corners and by the stairs, while a vase of red lilies sat upon the hall table. An elegant hand had written "lunch with the girls" in the day planner. A stairlift had been installed, adding a dissonantly modern touch to the otherwise traditional décor.
There was no one to be seen.
Pyrrha raised Miló to her shoulder, pressing the stock of the weapon tightly against her body, as she walked through the hall, her footsteps muffled by the carpet underfoot. This reminded her uncomfortably of Mountain Glenn; was she going to see bodies when she opened the next door?
The next door led into the dining room, and it was empty; the table had been cleared away from breakfast and not yet set for dinner. Pyrrha walked around the long dining table and pushed open the double doors that lay on the far side. They led into the drawing room, where she found an old man, his back hunched, his white hair thin and almost completely vanished, his skin wrinkled and spotted with age, slumped in a thick blue armchair with a cup of tea cooling on the table beside him. There were signs that others had been in here with him – there was sheet music resting on the piano, an overturned shogi board with the tiles scattered across the floor, another cup of tea beside an empty armchair – but he was the only one left. Pyrrha approached quickly, lowering her weapon as she knelt down beside him. "Sir? Sir, can you hear me?"
There was no response. Pyrrha checked his pulse; he was still alive. "Jaune, I've found someone."
"Who?"
"An old man; he's unconscious, but alive," Pyrrha replied.
No sooner had she said so than the old man stirred, his blue eyes flickering for a moment before they opened. He started at the sight of Pyrrha before him.
Pyrrha stood up, stepping back and away from him. "Don't be alarmed," she said reassuringly. "I mean you no harm. My name is Pyrrha Nikos; I came to answer the distress message that you sent."
"Pyrrha," the old man murmured. "Pyrrha Nikos, yes, of course; have…have you come to save us?"
Pyrrha bowed her head. "I fear I am too late for that, sir. Can you please tell me your name and what happened here?"
"My name…my name is Xi, I…I was sitting here and then…then this gas. I couldn't breathe. No one could, my son, he…" Xi's aged face, wrinkled as it was, had a kind of resting melancholy about it, but now he looked positively wretched. "That's all I remember. Where is everyone? My wife, my son, my daughter-in-law, where are they? They were all here, in this room; where are they?"
"I…I don't know," Pyrrha admitted. "I haven't finished searching the house, but…you were the only person in this room when I entered."
"And the children?" Xi demanded. "What about the children?" He tried to rise, his arms quivered and trembled as they pressed against the arms of his chair. As he sought to get up, Pyrrha saw that his back was so bent that he was doubled over.
"Here," she said. "Let me-"
"No," Xi said, before he fell back into his chair with a wordless cry of frustration. He shook his head. "Please, check upstairs; see if the children are…please."
"Of course," Pyrrha said, leaving him – for the moment at least – as she went back out through the dining room and into the hallway with its houseplants and its lilies and the day planner. She climbed the stairs two at a time, Miló's barrel pointing downwards toward the floor – if there were children in the house, the last thing she wanted was to frighten them by pointing a gun at them – as she climbed onto the upstairs landing. "Hello?" she called, hoping that if the effects of the gas had worn off for Xi, it would have worn off for others too.
She pushed open the first door on the landing; it was a bedroom, the walls covered with pictures of a man and woman through many years of life together. Judging by the number of aids to mobility – handles on the walls, a low bed, the walk-in bath that Pyrrha could see through the other open door into the en-suite – she guessed that it belonged to Xi and his wife. It was empty, as was the next room that Pyrrha checked: a girl's bedroom with band posters on the powder pink walls. Pyrrha checked under the bed and in the wardrobe, but she didn't find anyone hiding there, nor did anyone answer when she called. There was a jewellery box in the master bedroom that had been left untouched, emeralds and rubies gleaming and glimmering in the light as they spilled out of the open box in invitation to be taken. What kind of bandit would take people but leave such riches?
Pyrrha heard a cry coming from beyond the master bedroom, in a nursery connected to it by an adjoining door. She rushed into the room - which was painted with happy elephants and giraffes along the walls - and in an ornate wooden cradle there, underneath a butterfly mobile, she found a baby, red-faced and squalling, waving its little arms and legs wildly as it cried.
Pyrrha slung Miló across her back, slotting it into place behind Akoúo̱ as she reached into the crib. The baby shrieked louder, frightened by a face he did not know and by all the gold of Pyrrha's armour, but she picked him up and shook him gently up and down as she began to carry him downstairs to his grandfather. "I know," she murmured comfortingly. "I know, little one, I'm sorry. Jaune, I've found another survivor, a baby."
It was the same story across the village. Nora and Ren had found a little girl with golden hair who could barely speak a few words; Arslan had found a bedridden old woman; Swift Foot had come across a toddler who had run out of his house and across the road looking for his mother. As they searched – joined swiftly by the rest of the Myrmidons – they found only either the infirm, whether they be elderly or disabled in some way, or the very young, babies and small children barely able to walk. Of able-bodied men and women, there were none left in Manjushage.
"Do you think they took them to work?" Jaune suggested.
"To work on what?" Pyrrha asked.
Jaune was silent for a moment. "I'm not sure, but what other explanation is there for why they only took those fit and strong enough to work?"
"I…I don't know," Pyrrha replied, "but I am glad that they spared those who were of no use to them. At least our enemy is not completely devoid of conscience or honour." As one would hope of a former student of Professor Ozpin, however far she has fallen.
By this time, she had returned to the town square, where their airships were landing to take off the young and the old they had recovered from Manjushage and take them to Mistral. They could not stay here, with the only people able to care for the young being those too old and infirm to do so. So they would be flown to the city, under escort, and entrusted to the care of the authorities before the airships came back for the remaining Myrmidons.
Autumn Blaze was talking to those who had yet to be evacuated, while Photo Finish took pictures of all of those fortunate enough to have been spared and unfortunate enough to lose everything in the sparing. Autumn’s next blog would be all about the survivors: who they were, who they’d lost, an appeal for any relatives who had moved away or been out of town when the attack happened to get in touch as quickly as possible. Plus an appeal for any information that might lead to the rescue of all the captive folk of Manjushage and the rapid reunion of all these sundered families.
Swift Foot was amongst those who had remained, waiting until the evacuation was complete, ready in case the grimm showed up; they hadn't yet, but there was no guarantee that their indulgence would last forever. Pyrrha watched her, and as she watched, she sat down at the base of the statue of Manjushage's founder, surrounded by the parts of broken androids, feeling a great sense of disconsolation settle on her. She felt as though she might cry, as though she might be sick; she felt as though her stomach had turned to ice; she felt as though her limbs were so weak and her aura was about to drain away.
"And you can still see nothing?" she asked, her voice forlorn.
"No," Jaune said. "There's no sign of them."
Pyrrha's hands clenched into fists, because besides her sorrow and her shame, she felt such anger towards those who had done this. She wanted to have them within Miló's reach, not to have no clue as to where they had gone.
How could one of Professor Ozpin’s chosen few descend to such barbarity? How could a Maiden, blessed with one of the four magics of Remnant, entrusted with a gift so precious and so vital, abuse both trust and gift to such a wicked purpose?
She not help but wonder, if Ruby and Yang had accepted Raven’s offer to accompany her and join her tribe, if they might not have...have softened her, somehow, and by that softening have prevented this.
Pyrrha shook her head. A foolish thought; as it was no more in Ruby’s nature to throw in her lot with such a woman, so it was probably no more in Raven’s nature to let herself be turned aside from this path of wickedness that she had chosen.
These children who were so very young would grow up orphans. That baby in the cradle she had found would only know one living relative, and that a grandfather too feeble to care for him, condemning him to the orphanage or the foster home, and all Pyrrha could say that she had done was save the boy from the kind of hardscrabble existence that Ren and Nora had enjoyed before they had come to Beacon. Families had been ripped apart, and there seemed little chance of a successful rescue, what with them having no clue where to start looking.
"We failed here, Jaune," Pyrrha whispered, closing her eyes. "I failed."
"This isn't all on you," Jaune insisted forcefully.
"Who else is there?" Pyrrha asked. "It's like Sunset said: there's no one else but me."
"She didn't mean it that way, and Sunset wouldn't want you to use what she'd said to beat yourself up."
"No, I suppose she wouldn't," Pyrrha admitted. "Nevertheless, the fact remains that this kingdom deserves better protection than I can provide."
Jaune was silent for a moment. "You mean…the Council?"
"What other choice do I have?" Pyrrha asked back.
"You..." - Jaune hesitated, obviously remembering who stood in the stables with him - "you know what you are; you’re Pyrrha Nikos. You have all the choices."
Because I am the Maiden of Choice? Pyrrha shook her head. "In a sense, perhaps, but hardly in reality." She paused. "If it is true that I am the reason the Council would not put forth its strength, if fear of me is putting Mistral in danger, then how can I refuse to place myself at the disposal of the Steward?"
"Even with that string attached?" Jaune asked. “What about...your freedom to act?”
"I don't know," admitted Pyrrha. "And if I thought that it would be without troubles, I wouldn't have refused Councillor Ward earlier, but…how can I put my freedom above the good of Mistral, which ought to be the highest good in all the world to all her children?" She sighed and bowed her head, for all that Jaune couldn't see. "This is the Kingdom of Mistral, august and ancient, and I am her champion, her princess without a crown, the last heir to her ancient royal line until…or unless…where does my allegiance lie, if not here? If I would give my life to defend her grace and beauty – and I would – then why should I balk to give my freedom?" She snorted. "I make it sound as though I'm going to prison, like poor Sunset. I mock her sacrifice by the way I speak of my own, but nevertheless…if this is my sacrifice, should I not make it gladly?"
"You never answered my question," Jaune reminded her.
"If need be, I will do the right thing and face the consequences for my actions," Pyrrha replied. "If I must be censured for saving Mistral from a danger it did not know it faced then that is another sacrifice I must be prepared to make."
Jaune was silent on the other end of the line. "Are you asking me what I think, or are you telling me what you're going to do?"
"You disagree with me," Pyrrha said, making a statement, not asking a question, because he wouldn't be hesitating like this if he agreed.
"I think…that perhaps you shouldn't be making this decision when you're upset," Jaune said delicately.
"But if I wait, then the offer may be gone," Pyrrha replied. "Are you with me, Jaune?"
"You don't need to ask me that," Jaune said.
"I know," Pyrrha murmured, "but it's nice to be reassured." She stood up. “Team Prawn,” she called, raising her voice. “To me, if you will.”
They all consented; she did not want to think of them obeying her, rather of them agreeing to do what she would have liked them to do and making their way to join her beneath the shadow of the statue. Ren looked ill, and Nora looked as though she was trying to control her anger at this situation; Arslan seemed less personally affected by it, but her face was stern nonetheless.
“Any thoughts?” Pyrrha asked.
“Jaune has found nothing?” Ren demanded.
“No,” Pyrrha said. “It’s as if they…disappeared.”
“A semblance?” Arslan suggested.
“Possibly,” Pyrrha conceded.
“Hmm,” Arslan murmured. “Perhaps we should be grateful they didn’t murder all the folks they didn’t need.”
“'Grateful'?” Ren snapped. “Grateful to the monsters who did this?”
“Okay, perhaps 'grateful' isn’t the right word,” Arslan said, raising her hands to calm him down. “But…you know what I mean, right? We could have arrived to a town full of corpses not…this.”
“As bad as this is, you are correct,” Pyrrha said. “Jaune believes the townsfolk may have been taken to work; it explains why the young and old and infirm were left behind. They would have been of no use.”
“Nobody likes having useless mouths to feed,” Nora said softly. “But work on what?”
“That is the question, along with ‘where are they now?’” Pyrrha said. “I fear that, ignorant as we are, there is little chance of rescuing these people. Unless any of you disagree?”
Arslan folded her arms. “If they want workers then…they must be building something or digging something or…you know, doing something. They won’t be able to hide that forever. Even if they do have a teleporting semblance, somebody will see what they’re up to, or a captive will escape. Something will slip out. We just have to keep our ears to the ground.”
“It’s a long shot,” Ren muttered.
“Do we have any better shots?” Arslan asked. “At least it’s something.”
Nora nodded glumly. Her voice, too, was glum as she said, “I guess…we can’t win them all, huh?”
“Unfortunately not,” Pyrrha said. “We have all been inspired by the legends of the heroes that came before us. But they were demigods, and we are but men. Which is why, if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to Swift Foot.”
“Of course,” Ren said. “We’ll leave you to it.”
“Thank you,” Pyrrha murmured as the three of them retreated. She hadn’t asked their opinion on her decision, because she was sure it was the right one. Judging by the way they had all reacted to their collective failure today, she couldn’t imagine that any of them would disagree with her on that. "Swift Foot, may I have a word with you please?"
Swift Foot raised one curious eyebrow, but nevertheless, she sheathed her rhomphaia across her back and made her way towards the statue and to Pyrrha. "Is something wrong?" she asked.
"No," Pyrrha said quickly. "Well…yes, obviously, there is a great deal that is wrong."
"Yes, of course," Swift Foot said. "I meant-"
"I know," Pyrrha replied.
“Is there neither evidence of who did this nor sign of where they went?"
"None that we or Jaune can find," Pyrrha admitted. "We are blind and without a lead."
"Then there is no hope of reuniting these broken families?"
"Not unless something turns up," Pyrrha said, "but that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about."
"No, I suppose not," Swift Foot murmured. "What then?"
Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. "What is your sister like? Is she a good woman?"
"Which sister?" Swift Foot asked. "I have three."
"Terri-Belle," clarified Pyrrha.
Swift Foot laughed darkly. "It is good that you asked about her, because Shining Light and Blonn Di…you have spared me the need to either lie to you or insult my sisters. But Terri-Belle…she is brave and swift and strong. Clever, too. Of all four of us, the daughters of Diomedes, she is the best in every respect. And…she has always been kind to me, after her fashion. Yes, I would say she is a good woman."
"And she would defend Mistral if she could?"
"If our father allowed it, I believe she would," Swift Foot said. "Like me, she chafes at inactivity. Unlike me, she does not have the disobedient streak required to get her out of the house." She smiled. "But why do you ask? Why are you concerned to know if someone else will protect Mistral?"
Pyrrha did not reply to her directly, but rather said, "Jaune, can you patch me through to everyone?"
"Sure," Jaune said, his voice leaden with resignation. "You're up."
Pyrrha took a deep breath. "My friends and comrades," she said, and she noticed that those with her in the square – like young Cicero – turned to look at her. "Today, I received a visit from our friend and supporter, Councillor Cicero Ward the Elder. He came to see me with a proposal vouchsafed to him by the Steward himself, to take us under his authority and the command of his eldest daughter Terri-Belle as part of the forces of a united Mistral, to go forward and defend this kingdom, our kingdom, together.
"I have given it careful thought, balancing the benefits against the loss to our autonomy of action, and I have decided to accept this proposal for the good of Mistral." She let that sink in for a moment. "I started this and asked you all to fight with me for the good of Mistral. I still believe that it was the right thing to do, but I have come to realise that there is only so much that we can do alone. It is my hope that, together with our new allies, we may achieve a more perfect defence for the people of this kingdom.”
No one replied, but Pyrrha fancied – which might be the correct word in more ways than one, if she turned out to be imagining it – that those listening to her looked approvingly upon her choice. Certainly, young Cicero did so, nodding in vigorous agreement with all that she had said, and Violet looked as if she, too, were glad to hear it. Arslan looked relaxed about the whole thing, and Neptune looked relieved. Those who did not look pleased or glad appeared simply to be nonplussed about the whole thing, as though they didn’t care either way. Nobody looked as though they thought she’d just made a mistake, for which Pyrrha was very thankful. She turned away from them, walking away some little distance. "Jaune, can you put me through to Councillor Ward, please?"
"He’s still here, he just heard you," Jaune said.
“Councillor Ward,” Pyrrha said. “I take it then that you have not yet given the Steward the bad news.”
“I have not,” Councillor Ward replied. “Which means that I may now convey to him instead the good news.”
"You may," Pyrrha declared. "You may tell Lord Thrax that I am at the service of Mistral, and of its Council."