//------------------------------//
// A Lot to Catch Up On: Part Three 
// Story: SAPR 
// by Scipio Smith 
//------------------------------//


A Lot to Catch Up On, Part Three


Sunset walked forwards, approaching General Ironwood where he sat behind his desk. 
She walked forwards not because she had anything to say that she did not want others to hear, but so that she could see him better than she could see him standing halfway across his absurdly spacious office. 
General Ironwood looked … tired. She could see that more clearly the closer she got. Outwardly, his signs and signifiers remained impressive: clean shaven, uniform clean and pressed, collar done up, tie on. But as she approached, she could see the bags beneath his eyes, and she had noted the momentary sign of relief that he had given when they had spoken about Ozpin, she had heard him command Professor Ozpin to be brought back to Atlas even though his wisdom might be said to be more urgently needed in Mistral. 
The bags beneath his eyes, the dark circles spoke to weariness; his behaviour with regards to Professor Ozpin spoke to a man who was unsure of himself, who wanted nothing more than for someone to tell him that he was doing the right thing — perhaps even someone to lift the burden from his shoulders. 
Sunset could understand the feeling. 
And the ships, the gathering of the host, what did that speak to? What did that signify? Fear, as Cinder believed? 
That … that Sunset would find out. 
Of one thing she was quite sure: General Ironwood might be going to bed every night and putting clean clothes on in the morning, but he was not sleeping in that bed of his, no matter how big and how comfortable it was. If he was doing anything except making his face heat up from contact with the pillow while he fretted on all that might await them, Sunset would be very surprised. 
She could hardly blame him. What they were up against … well, it was a thing to keep one up at night. But at the same time … how might a man like this react to her news, and to her embassy?
She would not know until she told him. She could not lie to him, she could not conceal things so that he would look more kindly upon her suit for Freeport. She was the Princess of Hope, after all, not the Princess of False Hope, nor the Princess of Deceit, the Princess of Lies Kindly Meant, the Princess of Advantage. Princess of Hope. And hope … hope could only come from honesty; you had to speak truth about the darkness before you could shine a light in it. 
“'Help'?” General Ironwood said. “What kind of help? Help finding Ozpin?”
“You have granted that already, sir, for which I am sure the Professor will be grateful,” Sunset murmured. She did not mention whether Professor Ozpin would wish to go to Atlas instead of to Mistral; it did not seem to her the time to fight that particular battle; there would be time enough for that later, if General Ironwood approved all her other requests. 
And, if he could not be moved upon this point … she was the Princess of Hope, not the Princess of Blind Obedience to Atlesian Generals. If Professor Ozpin did not wish to go to Atlas, then she was bound to the professor, not the general; out of courtesy and decency, she owed him truth; she did not owe him to truss up her headmaster in a sack and deliver him to any place against his wishes and commands. 
“But, no,” Sunset continued, “that is not the help to which I was referring, not the help for which I have been sent to ask.”
General Ironwood folded his hands together on top of his desk. They half-shielded his face from view. All that Sunset could see now were his eyes, his tired eyes, the dim blue light surrounded by darkness. 
“What then?” General Ironwood asked softly.
Sunset took a deep breath. “My account,” she began, “may seem to ramble a little, at times. It may appear to go on for some little length. I beg your indulgence, sir, and you, my lady, and my friends. I … I beg your trust that all I have to say is relevant.”
“I cannot speak for General Ironwood, but for myself, I am all ears,” Lady Nikos said. “I am most eager to hear of your doings and adventures; I only regret that Pyrrha is not here to hear it with us.”
Sunset chuckled. “It will not wear my throat out to tell it again for Pyrrha’s sake and Jaune’s, my lady,” she replied. She took pause for a moment.
“If you do have a lot to say, would you like some water?” General Ironwood offered.
“No, sir, but that is most kind of you,” Sunset answered. “But I will not keep you waiting further.”
“You’ve told me your most important news already,” General Ironwood said. “Anything else you have to say is … extra.”
He spoke so softly, so quietly, and yet it felt to Sunset almost like a dismissal. Certainly, it did not fill her with optimism. 
“What Sunset has to say touches on the state of Vale itself,” Cardin pointed out. “Doesn’t that mean something?”
“Of course,” General Ironwood said, barely raising his voice. “But … never mind. I misspoke. Speak, Miss Shimmer, if you will.”
Sunset nodded. “As Cardin says, our tale begins in Vale, which is … recovering, as best it can, from the many blows that fell upon it last year. New ships are being built in the yards, fresh troops are being raised, and huntsmen are being pressed into service in the new Corps of Specialists, for the Committee feels that it is good to copy the Atlesian model and integrate the huntsmen into an organised hierarchy, the better to control them.”
“Your tone is neutral, Miss Shimmer, but your words are frightful,” Lady Nikos observed.
“Not necessarily,” Blake said. “After all, as Sunset said, it’s only the Atlesian model—”
“There was no need to add that this was about control,” Twilight murmured. “You don’t like this, do you?”
“Does that matter?” Cardin asked.
“A little,” Blake admitted. “Since she’s the one telling the story. Sunset?”
Sunset hesitated for a moment. “No,” she admitted. “I do not like it.”
“Sunset—” Cardin began.
Sunset rounded on him. “You were the one who told me that if Ruby didn’t come in voluntarily out of the cold, then they were going to send someone to forcibly measure her for a green uniform! You can’t expect me to have warm and fuzzy feelings after that!”
“'Forcibly'?” Penny gasped. “You mean … you mean they were going to make her serve in their military?”
“So I was led to understand,” Sunset said calmly.
Cardin swallowed. He glared at Sunset just a little bit as the eyes of the Atlesian specialists turned to face him. “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” he said awkwardly, squirming in place like a worm on a hook. 
“That’s good, because it sounds terrible,” Penny said. “It sounds like you’re making people do things they don’t want to.”
“Am I really getting judged by a lot of Atlesian military—?”
“We can quit whenever we want,” Rainbow insisted. “Me, Blake, Applejack, Ciel, any one of us could walk away this minute if we chose to.”
“Well, good for you!” Cardin snapped. “Maybe if your home comes under attack, we can see how long your commitment to these precious freedoms lasts then?” 
He took a deep breath. “I know that it doesn’t sound good, but try and see it from our perspective: Vale came under attack. Not Atlas, not Mistral, Vale. Vale is the one that was wounded, Vale is the one that almost fell, Vale is the one where we had to do something to calm the panic, otherwise the grimm would have come straight back again. We need trained huntsmen to make the people feel safe—”
“And you need to control them,” Lady Nikos observed. “Just as in Mistral, our Lord Steward cares more about controlling the warriors than protecting the kingdom.”
“Our forces are protecting Vale,” Cardin insisted. “What do you think Sunset was doing?”
Rainbow glanced at Sunset, “Did they make you a specialist?” Her face fell. “Don’t tell me you’ve been a lieutenant all this time?”
Sunset smirked. “No, Rainbow, I’m not an officer. I’m not even a specialist. I’m not a sufficiently upstanding citizen to deserve a place in the ranks of Vale’s defenders. I was just the one getting on with the job.”
“Have you been waiting until we got somewhere safe just so you could vent at me?” Cardin demanded.
“I’m sorry,” Sunset said. “I just … you have to admit that not everything in Vale is rosy at the moment. Some of the things that the committee—”
“What is this committee?” Winter Schnee asked. She had been quietly taking notes for the entire meeting, recording them on her scroll, her lithe fingers tapping delicately away upon the surface, but now, she spoke. “I thought that you had misspoken when you meant Council, but you’ve used that word twice now.”
“The Committee of Public Safety,” Cardin explained. “The triumvirate that now leads Vale as we build back better in the wake of calamity and step forward into a new Valish tomorrow.”
“Is that what they say on their poster?” Ciel asked dryly. 
“'Triumvirate'?” Lady Nikos repeated. “What about the other two members of the Council?”
“Professor Goodwitch still hasn’t been confirmed as Professor Ozpin’s replacement,” Sunset said.
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Penny suggested. “After all, if Rainbow and the others are going to find Professor Ozpin—”
“Ozpin will not be as he was,” General Ironwood explained gently. “He will have a new host. He will look different, sound different; initially, he may even act quite differently. He won’t simply be able to walk into Ozpin’s life and take it over.”
“Although that is always the endgame, isn’t it, General?” Sunset asked. “That’s why it needs the votes of all the other headmasters to dismiss a headmaster from their post and why the other headmasters need to unanimously approve the appointment of a new head.”
“That is so that our group can be sure to have trustworthy individuals overseeing the relics and their protection, as well as training the next generation of huntsmen and huntresses and spotting candidates to become agents in this struggle,” General Ironwood said. “But you’re right, Miss Shimmer, it does also serve as a means by which Ozpin’s hosts can be appointed to Beacon. In normal circumstances, Glynda would be expected to step in as interim headmistress while Oz established himself — both in his new host and in Remnant — and then make way for him again.” He sighed. “Sadly, these are not normal times.”
“No, they aren’t,” Cardin said. “They’re extraordinary times, and they call for extraordinary measures.”
“In Mistral, we know the taste of extraordinary measures for extraordinary times,” Lady Nikos said. “The aftertaste is exceedingly bitter.”
“Cardin is right about one thing: Vale was weakened by the events of last year,” Sunset conceded. “And so, while Vale organised itself, Cinder and I — along with sundry other rogues — worked under Cardin’s direction to deal with threats from grimm and bandits that plagued the outlying areas of Valish territory. That was what I was doing when Professor Goodwitch summoned me. She called me to Vale, met with me, and asked me to go to Anima and find Professor Ozpin in his new host.”
“Which was the first you had heard of it, I suppose?” Winter observed.
“Indeed,” Sunset said. “But it’s no stranger than anything else going on: our enemy is led by an immortal; it has a certain symmetry that our side should be also. What surprised me most was that the method of immortality was so … inefficient.”
“It is a curse,” General Ironwood pointed out.
“So I’ve been told,” Sunset murmured. “In any event, I … I didn’t see how I could go to Anima, what with my responsibilities to atone for my actions in Vale, and Cardin initially agreed with me. Fortunately, he agreed to let me go to Patch and ask Ruby if she would go to Anima in my stead and look for Professor Ozpin herself.”
“What was Ruby doing during all of this?” asked Penny.
“Grieving her sister,” Sunset said, “and caring for her equally grief-stricken father.” She felt her hands clench into fists quite involuntarily. “And all for nought. And all with nothing to truly grieve for! And all because Yang was stolen away out of sight and hidden from them by that … there will be a reckoning for that, I promise you. She won’t get away with what she’s done.”
“Raven Branwen, hideous though she might be, is under the protection of Mistralian law,” Lady Nikos pointed out.
“Does not Mistralian law allow me my vengeance, my lady?” Sunset demanded. “Does not Mistralian law allow me to challenge her for her offences?”
“It does, in theory,” Lady Nikos allowed. “But in practice … the situation is delicate at the moment.”
“Almost as if these are extraordinary times,” Cardin muttered.
Lady Nikos ignored him. “I know you would not wish to do anything that would make Pyrrha’s position more difficult than it already is.”
Sunset felt as though a bucket of cold water had been poured upon the flames of her anger. Whatever Raven had done, however much she had hurt Ruby and her father, repaying those injuries in kind was not worth the sacrifice of Pyrrha’s present. 
“No, my lady, you are quite correct; we must look to what is before us, first and foremost,” she sighed. “Forgive me, I am—”
“Your anger needs no forgiving,” Lady Nikos assured her. “Many were justly angry when the truth was known. But we must temper our anger with the necessary caution for the time being.”
“Indeed, my lady,” Sunset murmured. She took a breath. “Where was I?”
“Going to see Ruby,” Cinder prompted.
“Thank you, yes, Ruby,” Sunset said. “Ruby … I went to see Ruby and her father on Patch. She was … they were … well, as I said, they were grieving the loss of Yang. Hurting from it. Smarting from it. Tortured by … I’m sorry, I must stop this, or I will work myself up into … they were grieving, as I have said too often now. I went to see them, and I told Ruby about Professor Ozpin, and I asked her to go to Anima and look for him.”
“She refused?” General Ironwood asked. “She isn’t here.”
“No, sir, she is not, for reasons that will become clear,” Sunset informed him. “I … yes, she did refuse, I think.”
“You think?” Winter asked. “Either she did, or she didn’t.”
“A lot has happened, and this feels very long ago,” Sunset replied defensively. “And it does not have the patina of pleasantness that gives my memories of Beacon a golden glow to keep them fresh. But, yes, I think she did refuse. However, it ended up being rather immaterial, because that very night we were attacked.”
“'Attacked'?” General Ironwood repeated. “By an agent of Salem?”
“Amongst other things, yes,” Sunset said. “There was an agent of Salem there, by the name of Tyrian.” She looked at Cinder. “That’s right, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Cinder confirmed. “Tyrian Callows.”
Winter’s brow furrowed. “Tyrian Callows?” she asked. “The serial killer?”
General Ironwood looked at her. “Schnee?”
“I remember this, sir; hang on just a moment,” Winter said, running one finger rapidly across her scroll until she found what she was looking for. “Is this him?” she asked, holding out her scroll towards Sunset. 
On the device, Sunset could see a picture Tyrian’s face, caught in the midst of manic laughter. 
She nodded. “That’s him. He was there.”
“Who is he?” General Ironwood asked.
“Tyrian Callows, a scorpion faunus, no known affiliation with the White Fang,” Winter explained. “He committed a series of extraordinarily flamboyant and undisguised crimes across Mistral, including murders, assaults, and kidnappings, including the murder of the SDC vice president of regional operations in Anima and his entire family. He was eventually captured by a Mistralian huntsman named Pickerel, but the transport bringing him to Atlas for trial was attacked by grimm. There were no survivors found at the scene, but Pickerel was found dead shortly after. However, Callows was never seen again, so it was unknown if he had survived the attack or if it was a coincidence.”
“He survived,” Cinder said. “He is Salem’s most devoted follower now.”
“You didn’t tell me he was a serial killer,” Sunset said.
“I told you he was psychotic and dangerous,” Cinder pointed out. “I didn’t know he was a serial killer myself; he never sought to share his past with me, and I wouldn’t have wanted to hear it if he had.”
“But you knew his name,” General Ironwood asked.
Cinder nodded. “Yes, I knew his name.”
“What does Salem want with a serial killer?” Twilight asked.
“To kill people,” Cinder said bluntly.
“I thought that was your job,” Rainbow muttered.
Cinder glanced at her. “And what is it that you do to your enemies, Rainbow Dash?”
“Apparently, I have to stand here and listen to them spout off!” Rainbow snapped.
“Rainbow—” Sunset began.
“No, Sunset, I have a right to be angry about this!” Rainbow yelled. “Why is she even here? After everything that she’s done, after she kidnapped Applejack, and Fluttershy, after she tried to kill Twilight, what is she doing in our house?” She glared at Sunset. “And you, you brought her here?”
“I am not Sunset’s cat, nor her responsibility,” Cinder declared. “You have a problem with me, Rainbow Dash, you can address it to me. I’m right here. Leave Sunset out of it.”
Rainbow glared at Cinder, advancing on her until they were almost touching. Cinder was taller — only by a little, and with heels — but Rainbow was broader in the shoulders, and her mess jacket could not entirely hide the fact that her arms were burlier as well. 
Sunset watched them both, but deferred to Cinder’s wishes by saying nothing. She was almost certain that Cinder could defuse this situation with a sincere apology, but that would require a degree of humility that she was not Cinder had it in her to possess. 
In Sunset’s eyes, Cinder had done enough — keyword being ‘done’ — to prove herself. She had defended Ruby down in the tunnels of Grogar’s lair, although she had no love for Ruby; she had kept quiet about her mounting distaste for Ruby’s behaviour even though, again, she had no love for Ruby, because Sunset did. She had, by Ruby’s own account, spoken kindly to her when they were prisoners of the Sun Queen. When Sunset had been sinking into a morass of melancholy, Cinder had kept a good head on her shoulders, and it was as well that someone had. 
Yet, though her deeds merited some consideration, her attitude … that was a different story. Indeed, it sometimes seemed as though Cinder had redoubled her commitment to being ‘Cinder Fall,’ the character that she had made up to carry her through the tough times. 
Sunset thought she knew why: the loss of the Fall Maiden’s power had left her feeling small and vulnerable, and so, she wore her pride, her smirks, her droll remarks as armour against the world so that they would not see how vulnerable she felt. 
Sunset felt as though she alone was allowed to see what lay beneath the armour. But Cinder needed to show something in front of Rainbow Dash, or this could end very badly. 
Unless General Ironwood stopped it, which he seemed to have little intention of doing. 
Which meant that Cinder would have to show something. Some humility, some remorse. Whether Cinder felt enough remorse to satisfy Dash was … something else. Sunset was — uncomfortably, at this present moment — aware that one of the many things the two of them had in common was a … troubled relationship with the concept of empathy for complete strangers. It was why Sunset could look at Cinder’s service to Salem and admire her commitment to her cause, her willingness to fight and suffer for it, though it be the worst cause for which ever anyone had fought or suffered; it was why Cinder could divorce in her mind her fury at the abuses of the powerful with the damage that she herself had been willing to inflict upon the victims of those selfsame powerful. 
The fact that it was something they shared meant equally that it was something which didn’t bother Sunset; somehow, she imagined that Dash and the other Atlesians would be less understanding. 
“Okay,” Rainbow said. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to fight your enemies,” Cinder said.
“Why?” Rainbow demanded.
Cinder blinked. “Why what?”
“Why would you bother?” Rainbow explained.
“I am a warrior,” Cinder said. “These are the skills that I possess; this is … my vocation, you might say.”
Rainbow snorted. “Skills you’ll turn against us again the moment—”
“I saved Pyrrha’s life!” Cinder said, her voice rising. “There was no one there to witness it, nobody there to compel me, but I did it anyway! Because I can be as honourable as you, or Pyrrha, or anyone else in this exalted company!”
“Pretty words,” Rainbow snarled. “I know that they impress Sunset, they impressed Lady Nikos outside, but they cut no ice with me—”
“Then what would you have of me, Rainbow Dash?” Cinder demanded.
“Some honest remorse would be a good start!”
Cinder was silent. She stared into Rainbow’s magenta eyes, never looking away, never leaving them. She licked her lips. Her right foot moved slightly, turning ninety degrees upon her toe, then turning back again. 
It seemed to Sunset almost as if she were starting to sweat. 
Is it nerves or embarrassment? In this situation, she could believe either.
“Twilight Sparkle,” Cinder said, in a voice that was very quiet; Sunset wondered if Twilight would be able to hear it. “I frightened you, didn’t I?”
Twilight, too, took a moment to reply, and when she did reply, it was in a squeak of a voice. “Yes.”
Cinder closed her eyes. Her chest rose and fell. “I am…” She cleared her throat. “I am sorry for that. I … I should have … I should not have … I remembered … I wanted to…” — she scowled, and a wordless growl rose out of her throat before she said — “it was cruel of me. Cruelty comes easily to me. Too easily.”
“Easier than apologisin’, seems like,” Applejack muttered.
“I am what the world has made me,” Cinder declared. “It is what I have been fashioned into. It is not so easily denied. Nevertheless, I am ashamed of what I have been made: not strong, but cruel. I am sorry that I frightened you, and that I tried to kill you, and that I took captive your other friend, Fluttershy. It was … I should have been mindful … you had no part in this war.”
“Is that all?” Blake demanded. “Is that all you have to apologise for?”
Cinder glanced at Blake over her shoulder. “If it matters to you, then the White Fang of Vale deserved better from me than to be sacrificed as part of a larger scheme — and doubly so because the scheme was a failure — I was their general, their leader, and I … I did not live up to the standards expected of that lofty position. I did not care for my men as a commander should. I did not put their welfare above my own; I did not make their survival my highest good. But nor did I make Adam Taurus; that is not at my door. I went to him because he was ready to serve me, perfect as he was.”
“Yet you still bent him to your service,” Blake growled.
“And you released that video of Blake and got her arrested!” Rainbow added.
“Which worked out very nicely for everyone concerned, as I’m sure you’ll agree,” Cinder snapped, apparently reaching the limits of her capacity for humility. “Am I to go through every failure? Am I to go through every plot and plan that did not work? Should I apologise for every intent that came to nought? Do you want to know if you can trust me, or do you simply wish to humiliate me in public?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, is this demeaning for you? Big whoop,” Rainbow snapped. “Maybe things didn’t go the way you wanted, maybe you were kind of pathetic, but it doesn’t change the fact that you wanted things to go pretty damn badly for all of us!”
“You cannot know what was in my heart, or is in it now,” Cinder said. “What I wanted, what I thought, what I felt, these are all irrelevant. All that matters is what I did and what I will do. I did ill. I know it well enough: I waged war upon the innocent; I trampled upon the most sacrosanct of things, a living soul; I killed those who did not deserve to die, led others to their deaths, caused other losses at some remove by indirect action; I…” She looked down at the floor. Her face had started turning red as she began to confess her sins; now, it was rather bright. “I sought to corrupt Sunset, to undo the kindness that Pyrrha had bred in her, and in so doing, I caused cruelties. I was cruel.” She screwed up her eyes tight shut. “And I was pathetic.”
Sunset’s eyebrows rose. Of all the things that Cinder might have said, she had certainly not expected Cinder to say that. 
Does she believe it? But why?
“I will not go back,” Cinder said. “I will not turn away.”
“Why not?” Rainbow asked, and Sunset thought her voice might be a little softer. 
Or is that just my hope talking?
Cinder looked up, although she did not raise her head enough so as to be looking down on Rainbow. “What does it mean, to be the Ace of Canterlot?”
Rainbow shifted awkwardly on the balls of her feet. “Nothing,” she muttered. “It’s just a stupid nickname; I should have outgrown it.”
“Exactly,” Cinder said. “The Ace of Canterlot, the Invincible Girl, they’re all … baubles. Glimmering decorations, pretty to look at, but … hollow. Food that tastes sweet but gives no succour. I thought that if I could not have fame or glory, then I would live in infamy instead, but the truth is … none of it matters. Pyrrha knew what really fills the soul, you know, and now … so do I. 
“You don’t have to like me. You can try and shoot me in the back when the battle is at its height if you wish. You have the right. But I am not your enemy. I will not be your enemy. There is nothing Salem can offer me anymore.”
Rainbow took a step back, if only to fold her arms across her chest. She huffed audibly, but whatever she might have said in response to this was cut off by General Ironwood.
“That’s enough,” he said. “You knew Tyrian Callows, which is more than we knew up until now. Do you have other names? The rest of Salem’s organisation?”
Cinder hesitated, then turned away from Rainbow Dash and took a step towards General Ironwood. “Salem’s organisation is … the best comparison I can make would be to a criminal syndicate. Everything is compartmentalised, precisely so that someone like me cannot reveal all the details to someone like you. What I can tell you is that when I served her, there were four of us who stood at the top, answerable only to Salem herself: Tyrian Callows; Arthur Watts, an Atlesian scientist—”
“I’m aware of Watts,” General Ironwood growled. “We’ve come across his fingerprints already.”
“Of the four of us, he was the most willing to share details of his past,” Cinder said. “He wasn’t fond of you.”
“I never liked him either,” General Ironwood replied shortly. “You said there were four.”
“Hazel Rainart is the last,” Cinder replied.
“Hazel Rainart,” General Ironwood said. “I’ve never heard of him. Schnee?”
“It means nothing to me, sir,” Winter said.
“Soleil?”
“No, sir, I do not recall any details of a man by that name,” Ciel replied. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Don’t be; it may be there is nothing to recall,” General Ironwood said. “Who is he?”
“I don’t know,” Cinder said. “He’s the most preposterously dour man I’ve ever had the misfortune to come across. The strong, silent type. I don’t believe that he was a criminal — he was the one who turned Lionheart, so he must have been able to move freely through Mistral without issue — but even that is my guess, not a fact. All I can really say, General, is that he would make you look small.”
“I think you could do better than that,” General Ironwood said. “Before you go anywhere, I’ll have you sit down with a sketch artist and provide a physical description for circulation. Schnee, distribute that picture of Tyrian Callows around; since he’s already a wanted serial killer, we won’t even have to explain why he’s an issue. Inform all units that he is to be considered armed and dangerous; if they spot him, regular and police units should not engage but wait for Specialist backup.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll see to it.”
General Ironwood nodded. “So, those four are Salem’s top operatives, but you had people working beneath you.”
“Yes, I did,” Cinder said. “But as I said, the structure of Salem’s organisation is compartmentalised; I knew my three equals at the top, and I knew my own agents, but I didn’t know the names of any operatives working for Tyrian, Hazel, or Watts; I don’t even know for sure that they have agents or subordinates. I didn’t know about Lionheart until I needed a way into Beacon, and I didn’t know about Tempest Shadow until I needed her assistance.”
“That seems inefficient,” Winter said. “How were you supposed to make plans without knowing all the resources at your disposal?”
“We weren’t supposed to play with one another’s toys,” Cinder said. “Salem … you must understand that we were not a team. We were not allies working together in a common goal.”
“Then what were you?” asked General Ironwood.
“Rivals,” Cinder said. “Salem believed that she would get better results by pitting us against one another in a struggle for supremacy. She called it natural selection.”
“And yet you did get the services of two of Doctor Watts’ agents, and a virus created by him,” General Ironwood pointed out. “And Lionheart’s help to get into Beacon.”
“Mmm,” Cinder agreed. “The aims of my operation were so far-reaching — the power of the Fall Maiden, the Relic of Choice, the death of Ozpin — and the obstacles in the way so great that mommy threw open the toy box to me; I could have practically anything I wanted. She took a greater than usual interest in my plan and made sure that Watts was cooperative.”
“Your plan?” Ironwood repeated. “Not Salem’s plan?”
“Salem doesn’t plan,” Cinder said. “Salem sets goals and leaves it to her subordinates to achieve those goals by any means necessary.”
“You make her sound like a corporate manager,” Ciel murmured.
“That may have changed now that she has the Relic of Choice,” General Ironwood muttered. He frowned. “Why go after Beacon first? Having turned the Lionheart at Haven, why not go after the Relic of Knowledge?”
“In the first place, because nobody could find the Spring Maiden,” Cinder said. “Tyrian has searched for her for some time but came up empty. The second reason is that Salem believed that, with Ozpin alive and the CCT in operation, any move against any of the other kingdoms would draw a robust and coordinated response. The death of Ozpin and the destruction of Beacon Tower has created … opportunities to strike at Shade or Haven while they are isolated.”
“'Shade or Haven'?” General Ironwood said. “Not Atlas.”
Cinder shook her head. “I believe that Salem always meant to leave Atlas until last. She fears your courage.”
Lady Nikos snorted. “Yet she esteems so lightly the valour of Mistral?”
“Forgive me, my lady; would it salve your pride if I said that Salem fears General Ironwood’s arsenal of missiles?” Cinder asked. “I believe that she would wish to have the Relic of Destruction before she confronts your power.”
“You believe?” General Ironwood said. “You don’t know?”
“I cannot know for certain; plans may have changed since I was last admitted to Salem’s councils.”
“And even when you were in Salem’s councils, there were no plans, only goals, do I have that right?”
“You do,” Cinder said. “I fear I am not the trove of information you were hoping for.”
“It is something,” Lady Nikos said. “If only confirming what the evidence already suggests: Mistral is Salem’s next target.”
“But she’s only sent this Doctor Watts there, with his new operative, because she doesn’t think Mistral is a tough enough nut to crack for him to need help from the others,” Sunset murmured. “Arrogance she will hopefully regret.”
“Especially if we can get communications back online quickly,” Twilight added. “Then we can coordinate a response to her next moves.”
“You’re getting communications back online?” Sunset asked. “How?”
“By building a new CCT tower in Menagerie,” Blake explained. “Since we last saw one another, Atlas has signed a treaty recognising Menagerie as a kingdom and agreeing, amongst other things, to build a tower which will reestablish communications and finally connect our island to the rest of Remnant.”
Sunset turned her back on General Ironwood so that she could face Blake. Her jaw worked wordlessly for a moment. “Recognition and a CCT? A tower for which they are paying? You did that in … four months?”
“It’s nearly six at this point,” Blake murmured, a flush rising to her face.
“You did this in six months?”
“And a huntsman academy,” Rainbow added. “And dust mining.”
“My parents handled the negotiations,” Blake said softly, looking away as one hand rose up and started to play with her hair. 
“The negotiations which happened because of you,” Sunset said. “You … you are an absolute marvel. You’re an absolute treasure.” She looked at Rainbow Dash. “You appreciate how lucky you are to have her, I take it.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m very aware,” Rainbow said.
“Please stop,” Blake begged. “It’s wonderful, and incredible, and the best thing to happen to Menagerie in years, but it’s not my achievement.”
“Yes,” Sunset said. “It is. And Twilight’s right, if that tower gets up and running quickly, that will certainly throw a wrench in Salem’s ambitions if she was hoping to use the communications blackout to advance her aims.” She paused. “You know, I feel as though we’ve talked a lot, and I’ve barely started.”
“That’s because you have barely started,” Penny pointed out helpfully.
“Yes, thank you, Penny,” Sunset said. She turned to face General Ironwood once again. “So, as I was saying, we were attacked by Tyrian Callows — but not by Tyrian alone. He had with him a kind of grimm, a unique grimm, of a sort that I had never seen or heard of before. A kind — and this will sound incredible, but it is absolute truth — that could speak … and use magic.”
General Ironwood’s hands, which had been held up in front of his face, hit the desk with a loud thump that made Sunset jump, so unexpected was the sound. Winter Schnee’s eyes widened, and Twilight covered her mouth as a gasp escaped her lips. 
“It spoke?” Rainbow demanded.
“That’s what you’re concerned about?” Blake asked.
“Well, how are you sure it actually used magic,” Rainbow said. “Some grimm do have energy weapons, like the dragon.”
“I know the difference between magic and generic energy,” Sunset replied. “I can … feel the difference. Trust me, this was magic.”
General Ironwood’s mouth was open slightly, and widening of his eyes seemed to accentuate the dark circles around them. “Magic,” he murmured. “And it spoke to you? What did it say?”
“Just my name, sir, but that was bad enough,” Sunset said.
“You’re certain?” General Ironwood demanded. “You didn’t imagine it.”
“No, sir, I didn’t imagine a grimm that knew my name and could let me know,” Sunset said. “I apologise if that sounded sharp, but I know what happened, and I know that it really happened.”
“Didja kill it?” Applejack asked.
“Unfortunately not,” Sunset admitted. “I’m not even sure … it was very strong, it shrugged off my magic; even Ruby’s silver eyes barely slowed it down. We had to make a run for it. Luckily, Cardin was nearby with an airship to pick us up.”
“You had to run?” Rainbow asked. “From a grimm?”
Sunset did not reply. She felt no need to reply, having already given the answer, and giving it once had been bad enough in view of what the answer was. 
Silence descended in the office. 
“Lady of the North protect us,” Ciel whispered.
General Ironwood bowed his head momentarily. “This grimm,” he said, and his voice seemed slower now than it had been, “if indeed it was a grimm, what did it look like?”
“A karkadann,” Sunset said. “It was very large, but it had less armour than you’d expect on a grimm of such advanced age and intelligence. We flew back to Beacon, but Professor Goodwitch didn’t know anything about it, and nor — more recently -– did Principal Celestia or Vice Principal Luna.”
“Nor I,” General Ironwood said. “Is this something Oz knew about but kept to himself, or is this some new devilry that she’s only just come up with? Don’t worry, I don’t expect a response.” He reached up and pinched between his brows. “Magic, and intelligent enough to speak.”
“It’s not that bad, sir,” Rainbow ventured. “No matter how many tricks it’s got, it’ll still die like all the rest, once one of our cruisers unloads on it.”
“You haven’t seen these things,” Sunset said. “I told you, Ruby’s eyes—”
“We can drop a lot of bombs,” Rainbow maintained.
“'Things'?” General Ironwood repeated. “There are more of them?”
Sunset sighed. “When we arrived at Beacon, we decided that — since it appeared that Salem was hunting for Ruby — that she and her father would accompany me and Cinder and Cardin to Anima to search for Professor Ozpin; it would be safer for them than sticking around, and it would draw this grimm — and Salem’s agents — away from Vale, which didn’t need to come under attack again on our behalf. Trusting in secrecy, we set out overland, aiming to cross the mountains and the unsettled land in the east of Sanus and hopefully find a boat on the east coast to take us across the strait to Anima. On our way there, we were followed and attacked by two more such grimm. One of them looked like a…” — she stopped herself from saying ‘alicorn’ and chose a phrasing that would mean more to General Ironwood — “a winged karkadann, or a karkadann crossed with a pegasus; slighter in build than the first grimm to attack us.  The last resembled a kind of ursa; it used what seemed to be a magical staff.”
“They’re usin’ weapons now?” Applejack exclaimed.
“They killed Emerald Sustrai as we were crossing the mountains,” Sunset went on. “We also had some trouble with someone named Grogar who dwelled in the mountain pass, but we managed to kill him, so that’s not something to worry about. In any case, we did manage to cross the mountains despite their best efforts, and on the other side, we befriended the Frost Mountain Clan, one of the wandering tribes that live on that side of the mountains, in the land that was abandoned after the Great War. They — later joined by the Summer Fire Clan — brought us to a place called Freeport, which I believe was founded by the Valish during their very first attempt to colonise the east, then refounded by the Mistralians during their attempt at colonisation just before the war, and now is the nascent centre of an emerging kingdom.”
“A kingdom?” Lady Nikos asked. “You spoke of wandering tribes.”
“Estmorland, as the land is known, is a patchwork place, my lady,” Sunset explained. “Wandering clans — Frost Mountain, Summer Fire, Ice River, Fall Forest — small steadings where a single landowner and his household live behind a ditch and palisade with some livestock and a few crops; villages and modest towns. And Freeport, the most significant town in the region, where the Sun Queen made her home.”
“The Sun Queen?” Blake asked.
“Yes,” Sunset said. “Her real name was…” You’re not the Princess of Deceit, go on, get it over with. “Sunset Shimmer.”
“Say what now?” Applejack said flatly.
“Long story short: I’m not from Remnant, I’m actually a unicorn from the magical land of Equestria, I was turned into this faunus form by magic, I had an actual human counterpart on Remnant, and she was ruling Freeport and calling herself the Sun Queen,” Sunset said quickly.
“You rattled through those words too fast to follow on purpose, didn’t ya?” Applejack demanded.
“It’s an amazing place!” Penny exclaimed. “Equestria, I mean. Sunset let me go there after the Breach, with Blake, and everyone was so cheerful and welcoming, and the other Twilight Sparkle is a princess—”
“'A princess'?” Twilight repeated.
“You went there?!” General Ironwood demanded. “Dash, did you know about this?”
“I … didn’t see any harm in it, sir. I agreed with Sunset that it would cheer Penny up.”
“I see,” General Ironwood murmured. “I suppose there are more important things to worry about right now.”
“Another world?” Lady Nikos repeated.
Sunset turned to her, and bowed her head. “I apologise for the omission, my lady, but I hope you can understand that it is a … difficult subject to broach, especially since I must balance the truth against my obligations to my homeworld and those who live there. I only speak the truth here because of my trust in all those presently gathered.” She paused. “I hope you can also understand, my lady, that I am still me. Although I am not quite what you thought I was, my heart and soul are still the same as ever they were since our acquaintance. I am still Pyrrha’s friend, still the person you saw fit to grant Soteria.”
“Indeed,” Lady Nikos murmured. “Does Pyrrha know?”
“Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ruby were the first people to whom I revealed the truth, my lady,” Sunset confirmed.
“As it should be,” Lady Nikos said with a nod of her head. “As you say, you are the person I have known, for the most part.”
“I was as honest as I dared, my lady; all that I told you of my background was true … in all but geography.”
“I see,” Lady Nikos murmured. “I suppose that does explain your courtly manners.”
Sunset ventured a smile. “Indeed, my lady.” She returned her attention to General Ironwood to continue her account. “My alternate self, the other Sunset Shimmer, the Sun Queen, had begun the process of uniting Estmorland under her rule: villages, clans, and steadings acknowledged her dominion, and from Freeport, her rangers sallied out to keep the peace. They have even begun mining for dust, although it is slow-going since their methods are very primitive. They have no advanced technology there; the best they have is equipment left over from the Great War, and even that is not widespread. The Frost Mountain and the Summer Fire clans had only spears and shields and bows and the like: no dust, no guns; all of the luxuries, or at least what pass for luxuries in Estmorland, were reserved for Freeport and the Sun Queen’s own forces. When we arrived there, the Sun Queen welcomed us, and we were hopeful that we could get a boat to Anima.”
“And yet you’re here instead,” General Ironwood observed. “So what happened?”
“We were betrayed,” Sunset said. “Tyrian arrived in Freeport not long after we did, and the Sun Queen … took counsel of her fears and decided to hand Ruby over to Tyrian in exchange for a guarantee that Salem would leave her and the kingdom she was building be. I was … indisposed, thanks to the semblance of one of the Sun Queen’s lieutenants,” — that, perhaps, was not honest, but it was also personal, and Sunset had no desire to relive that particular trauma, not when it had no bearing on current events — “but thankfully, the clans of Frost Mountain and Summer Fire took our part, and in the confusion, I was able to escape and … kill the Sun Queen.”
“Lift up your shirt,” Rainbow said.
Sunset looked at her. “What?”
“Lift up your shirt,” Rainbow said. “You just told us that you had an evil duplicate; I want to make sure that you’re not her and that you didn’t murder our Sunset, take her place, and come here to spin us a yarn.”
“That…” That’s actually what the other me should have had Dawn do once she took over my body. “That would be devious, but it’s not what happened. And even if it were, how would the other me know all about Salem and everything else?”
“You could have interrogated our Sunset first.”
“I am your Sunset!” Sunset yelled. She huffed. “I take it that it’s the scar you want to see?”
Rainbow nodded.
“Alright, fine,” Sunset said. “General, forgive me.” She shrugged off her jacket, dumping it on the floor of General Ironwood’s office as she used her telekinesis to undo the straps securing her cuirass and remove it from her torso, holding it suspended in the air beside her while she lifted up her shirt just enough to reveal the scar where Adam had impaled her upon his sword. “There? See?”
Rainbow bent down to get a better look at it. “Okay, yeah, it is you,” she admitted. “It would have been embarrassing otherwise after the way we welcomed you back.”
Sunset snorted as she put her cuirass and jacket back on. “After the Queen’s death,” she continued, “Freeport came under attack by a large host of grimm led by those three special grimm that had dogged our steps since Patch. I was able to destroy a lot of them with my powers, but ultimately, it was Ruby who saved the city with her silver eyes, vanquishing so many of the horde that the remainder fell back.”
“Even the special grimm who were immune to silver eyes?” Applejack asked.
“I think it hurts them, even if it doesn’t affect them too much,” Sunset replied. “That’s my guess, anyway, judging by the way that they became progressively less eager to get to grips with us, preferring to send armies of grimm our way instead.”
“So they can control grimm?” Blake said. “Corral them into obeying them, like apex alphas?”
“I suppose that’s an apt comparison,” Sunset admitted.
General Ironwood closed his eyes for a moment, and in that moment, Sunset half-thought that he would fall asleep. 
“What happened after the battle was done?” Winter asked. “You came here, I presume, but Ruby Rose and her father?”
“Remained in Freeport,” Sunset said. “After the battle was done, the leaders of the clans who had rescued us, and the remaining authority in Freeport, elected Ruby to be their new queen, ruler of Estmorland, and she accepted.”
“'Queen'?” Blake repeated. “Queen Ruby?”
“Is that so surprisin’, Warrior Princess of Menagerie?” Applejack asked, amusement in her voice.
Blake chuckled. “That… well, when you put it like that, I suppose … it is a little surprising, though.”
“But true,” Sunset declared. “In place of a Sun Queen, they have a Rose Queen, and fairer than the word of wondrous virtues. Ruby will do everything she can to build a new kingdom east of the mountains, a place that can stand alongside Vale and Mistral and even Atlas. It has potential: the people who dwell there are as hardy as the Vacuans and infinitely kinder—“
“Hey!” Sun exclaimed, evidently deciding that the offence meritted speaking up about.
“Sorry,” Sunset said, “but you have to admit that some of your countrymen are … kind of jackasses.”
“Some,” Sun allowed, “but not most.”
“Some is enough,” muttered Ciel.
“The point is that they are hardy, able to survive in a harsh environment with few luxuries,” Sunset said, “but they are also kind, welcoming to strangers, honourable in their dealings, and desirous of a better future for the generations that will come after them.” 
She was aware that she was probably coming closer to lying to the assembled company than at any time since she had started talking — certainly she was sugaring the pill somewhat. None of what she had said was untrue, per se, but it was not all true of all people: the Fall Forest clan could hardly be described as kind or welcoming, while the Frost Mountain clan was kind and welcoming but did not really desire a better future. On the whole, though, she felt she was painting a reasonably accurate picture of the good folk of Estmorland, and as Ruby’s ambassador, she felt she had more licence to spin the facts in favour of Ruby and Freeport than she had in the rest of her narrative. 
“Which is why I am here,” she concluded. “Obviously, I am here as Professor Ozpin’s good servant, charged by Professor Goodwitch and by Amber’s spirit to find and to protect him, but I am also the ambassador from the Rose Queen of Freeport and Estmorland, and I have come to Atlas to request your aid, General.”
General Ironwood stared up at her with his tired eyes. He did not move. For a while, he let the silence linger, for so long that Sunset began to fear that he had dozed off with his eyes closed and hadn’t heard the last things she’d said. 
Eventually, he said, “What would you have of me? What would you have of Atlas?”
“From you, sir, military aid to Freeport, to help Ruby solidify her position across the country and to protect the capital against any further grimm attacks that may transpire. Trust me, General, when I say that the people of Estmorland will not forget it if you render aid to them and will repay that aid during your time of need, should you have need.”
“What need would we have of such primitive people?” Ciel asked.
“I don’t know,” Sunset admitted, “but you’ll regret that attitude if you ever do find yourselves in need.” She paused for a moment. “Still, hold to your pride if you wish; I have no right to condemn you for such unduly. I know what it is to hold pride dear and precious. Very well then, act not for the sake of your own future advantage but for Freeport’s present: send aid to them because they are in need of aid. Is it not Atlas’ charge to defend all peoples, to be the shield of men? Those who dwell east of the mountains are no less men than those who live on the western side, and just as vulnerable, if not more so. 
“What aid I would have from Atlas is — and I’m aware that this may be difficult, considering my history — an audience with the Council, and with Jacques Schnee, to discuss putting relations between this new nascent kingdom and Atlas upon a firm foundation and to discuss the sale of mining rights in Estmorland to the SDC.”
“You’re talking about untapped dust reserves, untroubled by previous development, and you’re just going to sell it to the SDC?” Blake asked.
Sunset looked back at her. “What else should Ruby seek to do?”
“Menagerie is going to develop its own dust reserves, for its own benefit,” Blake informed her.
“That’s wonderful for Menagerie,” Sunset said, “but Freeport has no lien to buy state of the art mining equipment — no lien for anything, in fact; Menagerie might not have been recognised as a kingdom, but it was still part of the economy of Remnant. Freeport needs money now more than it needs the potential to have dust years in the future. Selling off the dust rights for a quick payday may be selling off the family silver, but family silver is worthless if you don’t have a house to store it.”
“At least talk to Councillor Cadenza before you talk to Jacques Schnee,” Blake urged. “Perhaps Freeport can get a loan, like Menagerie did—”
“I’m afraid there’s nothing that Atlas can do for this … place,” General Ironwood said, his voice heavy, the words seeming to fall out of his mouth to thump down onto the desk in front of him. “I’m sorry, Miss Shimmer, but your request for assistance is denied.”
Silence descended upon the room like a bomb, dropped from one of the cruisers of which the Atlesians were so fond. 
Sunset felt her mouth dry up. Denied? Just like that, denied? Flat out denied? Rejected? There was nothing that Atlas could do? There was nothing that Atlas was willing to do? 
Atlas, or General Ironwood?
Sunset turned her back on Blake, on Cinder, on Rainbow Dash, on all others; she faced General Ironwood squarely across his desk. 
She remained silent a little while, choosing her words, choosing her plan of attack. She would not shout. She was an ambassador, and a princess besides, and throwing a tantrum wouldn’t get her anywhere. More to the point, it wouldn’t help Ruby either. 
But she had no intention of letting this go and conceding defeat. 
First, she needed to understand his reasons, then she could counter them. 
“May I ask why that is, sir?” Sunset asked quietly.
General Ironwood closed his eyes for a moment. “Think about what you’re asking me, Miss Shimmer,” he murmured. “Communications are down. I have no word from Vale or Mistral or Vacuo or Menagerie. I know nothing about what is going on beyond Solitas, save the news that you and Lady Nikos have brought to me, and the messages that came and went between Atlas and Menagerie. I am blind. I don’t know where Salem is going to strike next, and by her own admissions, neither does Miss Fall. Perhaps Mistral is her target. Or perhaps all of this with Chrysalis in Mistral is merely a diversion, perhaps all of this, pursuing you to Freeport, perhaps it’s all intended to make me weaken our defences before she falls upon us! 
“And you come to me, and you tell me a story about three extraordinary grimm, three grimm who are more powerful, more intelligent, who can use magic for gods’ sakes, and you ask me to send my ships, my men, out of contact and into danger?” General Ironwood let the question hang there in the air like cigarette smoke, poisoning the room. 
“I’m asking you to help those who need and humbly request your aid,” Sunset said softly.
General Ironwood got up. He turned his back on Sunset and walked to the window at the back of his office. In the day, Sunset imagined that you could see right across Atlas from out of that window, set so high in this tower of steel and glass, but it was night time now, and all that she could see were lights blinking in the dark — and General Ironwood’s own visage reflected back at her in the glass. 
He looked so tired. 
He leaned upon the window, resting one arm against it. 
“Oz thought that I didn’t value his counsel,” General Ironwood said, his voice sounding almost mournful. “He believed that I didn’t appreciate his wisdom. Neither of those things were true. Since he died, I have been … blind as I am, fumbling as I am, guessing her intentions as I am forced to do, I … I want his counsel. I want him to tell me that I’m doing the right thing. I want him to assume his rightful place at the head of our efforts — here, in Atlas, where he will have the power to make real moves and real decisions. 
“But as I told Oz once, I am not merely a part of his inner circle; I am an Atlesian officer, and I have duties to the Kingdom of Atlas that take precedence over my other responsibilities. I must defend this kingdom. I must keep it safe and secure; though all the rest of Remnant fall, the light must shine in Atlas. 
“I’m sorry, Miss Shimmer. I’m sorry that this leaves Miss Rose … that this leaves Queen Ruby in an awkward position. My advice to her is to get out while she can, make her way here, then she can remain with us or go on to Mistral as she wishes. But I cannot waste the strength of Atlas on something like this, on a little land far away. Not with so many dangers to contend with, including the new ones that you have just described.”
“And what of Mistral, General Ironwood?” Lady Nikos demanded. “Are we also a little land far away?”
Sunset let out a breath. She did not speak, and she was both grateful to Lady Nikos for speaking but at the same time wished she had not done so, or at least used sweeter words. 
All the same, General Ironwood’s refusal to send any succour to Freeport did paint his actions regarding Mistral in a light that was … not sinister exactly, but … a team? Alright, a team led by his best people, but even so, one team? General Ironwood had brought a fleet to Vale when he thought it threatened, but only one team to Mistral? What had changed?
He didn’t feel so threatened then.
“Thank you for your report,” General Ironwood said. “Schnee will set you up with a room here in the Academy for the time being. We may speak again before you leave. That will be all.”
“With all respect, sir, I am not yet done,” Sunset replied.
“You’re dismissed, Miss Shimmer.”
“I am no soldier of Atlas, General, but an ambassador, and my suit is not concluded,” Sunset declared. She did not raise her voice, but spoke with firmness, making her voice as settled and immobile as a rock. 
Princess of Hope. I hope that I can be all that I need to be.
All that Ruby needs me to be.
General Ironwood did not reply, but nor did he order her to be removed from his presence, which Sunset took to be a good sign. 
Sunset looked over her shoulder. “Rainbow, are you okay with this?”
“You won’t force me to change my decision by lobbying my soldiers,” General Ironwood declared.
Sunset ignored him, for the moment. “Rainbow Dash?”
Rainbow didn’t look away. “If Ruby were here, she might remember an essay that we worked on together, when she asked me how I could be a part of something that took my freedom to act away, that wouldn’t let me do what I thought was best.”
“Since Ruby isn’t here, perhaps you’d like to tell me the answer,” Sunset murmured.
“Trust,” Rainbow said. “I trust the General. I trust that he sees — that you see, sir — the big picture, the things that I don’t see. I trust that if I don’t agree with something, it’s because I don’t know all the details or because I’ve missed something or I just don’t get it. I trust General Ironwood. I’m sorry about Ruby, but if the General says it can’t be done, it can’t be done.”
Sunset nodded. “Blake?”
Blake was silent for a moment. “I came here,” she said, “because I trusted that there were people who would do the right thing. But that doesn’t always mean doing the thing that we want to do. I’d like nothing more than to run to Ruby’s side and protect her from her enemies, but we can’t just do what we want. We have other responsibilities, we have to think about what we’re doing, and Rainbow’s right, no one is more aware of that than General Ironwood. I’m sorry that it’s not the answer that you want to hear, and I wish it could be different, but … I’m sure General Ironwood would help if he could.”
“I see,” Sunset murmured. “Ciel, Penny, is that your answer too? Applejack? Twilight? Do you trust that General Ironwood is making the right decision?”
“General Ironwood is a good man,” Twilight insisted. “We all have reason to remember that. I think that we all trust his judgement.”
Some men might have found themselves buoyed up all by this profusion of flattery, but judging by his reflection, General Ironwood was not affected by it. It was like rain upon the armour of one of his warships, powerless to affect the crew below decks or the workings of the vessel. That was both a good and bad thing. 
Sunset looked down at her booted feet for a moment before she said, “I congratulate you, sir; you are blessed beyond measure in your misfortunes.”
“'Misfortunes'?” General Ironwood turned to look at her. “What are my misfortunes?”
“That in all this gallant company, there is not one who does not have such faith in you they cannot see that you are wrong,” Sunset said. “Their loyalty is splendid, and you do them a great disservice if you do not appreciate it.”
“I am very aware of my good fortune,” General Ironwood said, as he moved to sit down again, “but just because it’s not the decision you want doesn’t mean that—”
“When was the last time you slept, sir?” Sunset asked.
General Ironwood stared at her. “I was just about to—”
“With respect, sir, that is not what I asked.”
“I go to bed each night.”
“General Ironwood, with all due deference, the more you dodge the question, the more convinced I am that it was the right question to ask,” Sunset said. “Do you spend the night thinking up strategies or simply worrying about what the new day might bring?”
“What are you suggesting?” Aska demanded.
“I have seen the strength husbanded around this city, and I have heard General Ironwood’s words from his own lips; I’m not sure that suggestion or implication are required,” Sunset said to her. “General… I understand—”
“How could you possibly understand?” General Ironwood asked.
“It is true, I do not bear the weight of a kingdom on my shoulders,” Sunset allowed, “but I have been charged with safeguarding Professor Ozpin, our captain and our leader, our best hope to see off these thrusts of Salem, and I must guard him, and I must guide his new host into this new world. Amber prophesied that all would turn on him. That those whom he called friends would be his enemies, that swords would come out against him and that I would have to stand as his protector — perhaps his sole protector. Now, I cannot imagine how that might happen, but if you think that does not weigh upon me, General Ironwood, then you are mistaken in that also. 
“General, I know that so much depends upon you. But General Ironwood … you are not alone. Look in this room: Rainbow Dash, Blake, Penny, Applejack, Ciel, Twilight. What benchmarks these of courage, loyalty, resolve, intellect? Will Atlas fall while Atlas breeds such folk as these? While you, sir, fashion soldiers of such spirit, and so devoted to you? No, I say that it will not, and furthermore, I say that Salem knows that it will not, and that, General, is why she yet will strike at Atlas last of all, if she strikes at all in ways that all your fleet assembled can defend against. Cinder says, with that too wicked tongue of hers, that it is Atlas’ missiles that Salem fears, but I say she was right the first time: it is your courage of which she is rightly wary, the courage that delivered Vale from her assault, the courage that has resisted her onslaughts and advances time and again, though those who resisted her knew not what they did. The courage that has defended the world for eighty years. That is what Salem fears, that Atlas will stride forth once more in all its power to the rescue of all places; that is why she smiles now to see your fleet so gathered, ringed around Atlas, to defend a place she could not take in a thousand years so long as one Atlesian soldier yet defended it. 
“General Ironwood, you need not dwell thus in solitary darkness. You need not tremble. Put your faith in the gallant men and women who serve you as they put their faith in you. Put your faith in them and lay down some fraction of your burdens upon them. Trust them. Trust them to keep this kingdom safe and to bear you and as they bear you to bear the weight you carry until it feels as light as a feather to you. 
“Put your faith in them and rest. Rest, sir, I beg of you, and then answer me anew with a heart unclouded by this darkness.”
Sunset took a step back. “And now my suit is concluded.”
General Ironwood did not meet her eyes. He looked down at his hands upon the desk and blinked, and then he closed his eyes and kept them closed for some time. 
“Sir,” Rainbow said. “We’re all … if you thought that you needed to … we’re here for you, sir. You don’t need to be strong on our account. I’m sorry if—”
“No, I’m sorry, for not trusting you more,” General Ironwood said. “For not trusting all of you. You deserve better.” Now he looked up, meeting Rainbow’s gaze, and Blake’s, and all his gallant soldiers. “You’re the future of this kingdom, all of you, and one day … one day, you’ll have to do this without me, so I’d better trust that you can manage it.” He pushed himself heavily to his feet. “Schnee, I’m going to bed. I’m going to sleep. Wake me if Atlas comes under attack.” He paused. “Wake me if Atlas comes under serious attack.”
The slightest hint of a smile appeared on the face of Winter Schnee. “I’ll bear your suggestion in mind, sir.”