//------------------------------// // Waiting is the Hardest Part (New) // Story: SAPR // by Scipio Smith //------------------------------// Waiting is the Hardest Part Pyrrha looked up as the dorm room door opened and Sunset walked in. “Emerald called,” Sunset said. “I see,” Pyrrha murmured. “And?” “Midnight, in the Emerald Forest,” Sunset said. “I’ve got the coordinates for the exact location here; apparently, you can reach it from the cliffs, and I can believe that.” Pyrrha was silent for a moment. So, it will be so soon. Better sooner than later, I suppose. But still … quite soon, all things considered. “I see,” Pyrrha said, her voice very quiet, barely more than a whisper. “Thank you, Sunset.” “The Emerald Forest?” Jaune said. “Are you sure about this? What if it turns out to be an ambush?” “As I said to Professor Ozpin,” Pyrrha murmured, “I … trust Cinder in this, if in nothing else.” “Because she is a Mistralian,” Jaune said sceptically. “Because she wants to beat Pyrrha in a way that … counts, for want of a better word,” Sunset said. “Believe me, the thought did occur to me, but … in the circumstances, I don’t see that there’s much choice but to trust Cinder’s … honour.” “There’s always the choice to not go through with it,” Ruby pointed out. “No,” Pyrrha said. “No, that is no longer a choice for me. Having challenged Cinder, having threatened her with the shame of cowardice if she did not answer my challenge, if I were to shrink from her now, then I would look like the coward. And I would not be thought of so.” She smiled thinly. “After all, that’s part of what this whole exercise has been about, hasn’t it? My reputation.” My reputation and my confidence. I would lose both if I were to cower before Cinder now. “You’ll have two marshals to observe the integrity of the duel, and so will Cinder,” Sunset went on. “Unfortunately, I can’t be one of them. Emerald was very specific.” Pyrrha frowned slightly. “Why?” “Apparently, after what happened in Mountain Glenn with Adam, she doesn’t trust me,” Sunset said. “I can’t say that I really blame her, in the circumstances, although … I do wish that I could come with you.” I… Pyrrha was somewhat surprised to find that she was at least partly glad that Sunset would not be present in the forest. She liked Sunset a great deal, Sunset was her best friend, but at the same time, Pyrrha found that she shared Emerald’s scepticism that Sunset would be able to prevent herself from interfering in the duel if the outcome was not going the way she wanted it. That was not a slight against Sunset, whose concern for her friends’ wellbeing was greatly to be valued in almost all circumstances, but in this particular circumstances, it would not be welcome. This was something that Pyrrha had to do, herself. Always be the best and hold your head up high above all others. If she did not do this, then Pyrrha would not be able to hold her head up at all, never mind above all others. She had to do this, and if that meant that Sunset had to be kept far away, unable to interfere, well, then perhaps in this one instance, that was a good thing. She rose to her feet, standing up off the bed, and looked to Jaune. “Jaune, will you be one of my two marshals?” Jaune nodded. “Of course.” “Thank you,” Pyrrha said. She paused for a moment. “I will ask Arslan to be the other.” “You will?” Sunset said. “I thought that…” She trailed off, seeming unable to say what she wanted to say. Pyrrha breathed in, and then out. She looked at Ruby. “I don’t know whether you’ll take this as a slight or a compliment,” she said, “but I find that I feel the same way about you that Emerald seems to about Sunset: that I can’t trust you not to interfere in the duel.” “You mean you think I’d try and save you if I thought you were going to die?” Ruby asked. “That, or attack before the duel had even begun because our enemies were before us,” Pyrrha replied. Ruby tilted her head a little, first one way, and then the other. “That … I think that’s actually a compliment,” she said. “Though I think it might be kind of an insult to Jaune and Arslan.” “This is what Pyrrha wants,” Jaune said, although his voice sounded a little strained as he said it. “And I trust her to get it done, if anyone can.” “And Arslan is a Mistralian,” Pyrrha added, “one who has imbibed our peculiar traditions and attitudes. If she is willing to do me this service I have no doubt that she will be able to hold herself back, no matter the outcome.” She paused for a moment. “Speaking of which, I think that I should probably go and speak to her and make sure that she is willing to do me this service, shouldn’t I?” “Do you want me to come with?” Jaune offered. “No, thank you,” Pyrrha said. “I’ll be fine on my own. I … I may not come straight back here afterwards; I … you can reach me on my scroll, if you need me.” Sunset’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. Jaune said, “Okay. We … I’ll be right here.” “I know,” she said, smiling. She considered kissing him before she left, but decided against it; it might have seemed … forced. It didn’t seem like the right time, at any rate. But she smiled at him as she walked towards the door and stepped out into the corridor. Her long ponytail swayed a little behind her as she turned down the corridor, her footsteps almost inaudible upon the carpet, her red sash trailing after her as she walked towards the stairs. As she passed the kitchenette, she heard Nora’s voice cry out, “Hey! Pyrrha!” Pyrrha turned her head to see Nora emerging out of the kitchenette, holding a sandwich — salami, or possibly chorizo — in one hand. “Good afternoon, Nora,” she said politely. “Late lunch?” “Nah, just fixing myself a snack,” Nora explained. “Where are you off to?” “I’m on my way to see Arslan Altan,” Pyrrha explained. “I … I want to ask her to be one of the two marshals at my duel with Cinder.” Nora put one hand on her hip. “So, you’re really going to go through with it then, huh?” “Having issued a declaration on television in two kingdoms, I can hardly not, can I?” Pyrrha responded. “Not while saving any degree of face.” Nora looked up at her. Before she said anything, she took a bite out of her sandwich. She began to talk with her mouth full, rendering any words an indistinguishable and indecipherable mass of mumbling. “I beg your pardon?” Nora swallowed. “Sorry. I said you’re gonna kick ass, right? Gonna show that nobody better mess with you.” Pyrrha’s lips curled upwards. “That’s certainly the plan.” “Oh, you have a plan!” Nora cried. “Well, you’re going to win for sure, then. People with plans almost always come out on top; that’s why I don’t do so well in combat class.” Pyrrha chuckled. “Aren’t you one of the best students in combat class?” “And if I had a plan before every fight, then I’d be showing you who the real invincible girl was around here!” Nora said enthusiastically. Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, really?” “You know it,” Nora said. “One hit from Magnhild, and you’d be done!” “Then it’s a good job for me that you’ve never managed to hit me with Magnhild, isn’t it?” Pyrrha replied. “It is for you, yeah,” Nora declared. “Hey, Pyrrha, is this what it means to be Mistralian?” Pyrrha blinked. “I’m not sure that I understand the question.” “Ren and I … we’re not really proper Mistralians in a lot of ways,” Nora explained. “Sure, we grew up in Anima, but … well, we didn’t exactly have a normal childhood, either of us, and … well, we moved around a lot, from village to village, we never spent a lot of time in one place, we didn’t … we don’t really belong to anywhere. And sometimes … sometimes, I’ve wondered what it would be like if we’d grown up normally, in Mistral, or just anywhere. Would we have been like you?” “Only if you’d grown up in a very specific stratum of society, or had a need to ape the trappings of that stratum’s values, as Arslan does,” Pyrrha said. “The assumptions of how to behave, who the proper role models are, what I should be aiming for, they’re very specific, not just to my city, but also to my class.” “Then how do you know that Cinder is going to accept your challenge?” “She already has,” Pyrrha told her. “We meet at midnight.” “'Midnight'?” Nora repeated. “I don’t know whether that’s spooky or someone trying to be spooky.” Pyrrha laughed lightly. “I think it might be a little of both.” Nora chuckled at her own little joke. “So … if all of this is not just about being Mistralian but about being part of the upper crust, does that mean Cinder comes from some rich old family?” “I…” Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “I don’t really know for sure, but I do know that she feels some … kinship to the old ways, an attachment to them. As I said, there are some who are forced to take on the trappings of noble customs — almost anyone who aspires to a successful career in the arena, for example — and there are some who are genuinely drawn to them. Cinder … may be one of those. There is no Fall family that I know of, but her name is almost certainly an assumed one.” “Hmm,” Nora murmured. “I guess it’s no stranger than someone wanting to … what does she want? Working with the White Fang, trying to loose a whole bunch of grimm into the city, trying to … to do what? Was she trying to wipe out Vale?” “I couldn’t speak to her intent,” Pyrrha said. “Or her ambitions.” “But you know she’s bad news, and she’s gotta be stopped,” Nora said. “Indeed,” Pyrrha agreed. “And I will stop her, if fortune is kind.” “'Fortune'? Pfft,” Nora declared scornfully. “You got this, girl.” Pyrrha smiled. “Thank you, Nora.” “But,” Nora added, “if none of your teammates can say it so straight up to you … definitely don’t let it get to you, but also … don’t let it make you think they don’t back you up to the hilt. I mean, I’m just some loud girl who sits opposite you at lunch most days; those three … they’re the ones who love you.” “I know,” Pyrrha said softly. “But—” “But the thing is,” Nora went on. “The thing is that when we love someone, it can be … well, it can be hard to say how we really feel, for one thing, but at the same time … when we love someone, it … it makes us afraid for them. And that maybe kind of sounds like I don’t actually care about you one way or the other, which isn’t true; it’s just that what I’m trying to say is … when you love someone, when you know that if you lost them, if they weren’t around anymore, it would leave a hole in your life and in your heart, then … then it’s easy to get into a place where the hole that they’d leave behind is all that you’re thinking about, and not how awesome you know they are. So … just, maybe keep it in my mind before you get upset.” She shrugged. “Or don’t. I mean, I’m just a loud girl with a lot of funny stories, after all.” Pyrrha shook her head. “You are much wiser than that, and I will keep your words in mind.” Nora smiled. “If it helps. Now go get ‘er. Or go get Arslan, I guess. But in case I don’t see you again before you go: go get ‘er!” Pyrrha bowed her head. “I intend to.” She left Nora there, eating her sandwich with whatever kind of cold sausage made up the filling, as she herself descended the stairs and stepped out of the Beacon dorm room. The air had cooled a little; it was quite crisp as she walked across the courtyard, pausing in front of the fountain and the statue of the huntsman and huntress standing on the rock, with the snarling beowolf down below. Pyrrha paid no attention to the grimm, all of her attention focussed instead upon the huntsman, his sword raised aloft. She did not know his name, she did not even know if he was a real person — in Mistral, he certainly would have been, but in Vale, it was possible that he was nothing more than an allegorical representation of a huntsman, an ideal rather than an individual — but as she looked up at him, his sword raised towards heaven, she felt a kinship with him. Like her, he had stepped forward to vanquish evil. She was reminded of the end of the Great War, of the Battle of the Four Sovereigns. There, and in the battles that had gone before, many heroes had performed prodigious feats of valour, but on that last battlefield, none had surpassed the Last King of Vale himself. He had been a very god of war; great heroes like Achates Kommenos had fallen before his blade, and more than that … it was hard to credit, but reports of those who had survived the battle swore that they had seen him cleave whole companies with his sword, shatter units, shatter the ground itself. Whatever the truth of that — and with magic in the world, who was she to deny that it could possibly be true? — it was beyond doubt that he, personally, had ended the Great War with his valour and the deeds that he had done. Fate grant that I may win a similar victory. Obviously, she would not end a war single-handedly, at least on this battlefield, nor could she put an end to the greater threat of Salem, but if she could win this battle, if she could lay Cinder low before her arms, then how much would be ended? How much safer would Vale be, would they be? Cinder had been beaten, it was true, she had been scotched, her plans had been thwarted, but so long as she lived, then she would plot again and scheme again and attack again and put everything at risk again. But Pyrrha could stop her. She had the opportunity to stop her. She would stop her. She would smite Cinder’s breast with Miló and send her crashing down to the ground, her soul fleeing in anger down to the shades. And she would deliver the world from Cinder’s menace. She would protect it, as she had always wished to do. As she had chosen to do long ago. Pyrrha turned away from the fountain, walking across the courtyard to the dormitory where the Haven students were staying until the end of the Vytal Festival. Two huntresses lingered outside the door as though they stood on guard. One of them was Medea, who had offered to poison people on her behalf not too long ago. The other was a girl whom Pyrrha did not recognise, a bear faunus with ursine claws in place of her fingernails, with freckles on her face and chestnut hair cut short above her shoulders. She wore a long white tunic that extended down past her thighs, but no visible skirt, shorts, or trousers of any kind; a pair of rough brown sandals enclosed her feet, while brown fingerless gloves covered most of her hands. She sat upon a low stone wall, one foot resting upon her other knee, a bow sat upon her leg. “Pyrrha Nikos,” Medea hailed her as she approached. “I see that you’ve chosen to take a more … public approach to your problems than my poison.” “Um,” Pyrrha murmured, with a glance towards Medea’s bow-armed companion. The bear faunus grunted. “I know all about what she is, don’t worry: a tricksy little spider … but a very useful person to have around in a pinch.” Medea chuckled. “I don’t have your boyfriend’s wonderful semblance which I hear can heal any injury, but my skill with herbs and potions has not gone unappreciated by my gallant teammates. So much so that they tolerate my perspective on the world, don’t you, Atalanta?” “Atalanta Calydon,” Atalanta said, holding out one hand to Pyrrha. “It is an honour to meet you.” “Likewise,” Pyrrha said, taking her hand. Atalanta snorted. “No, it isn’t; I’ve done nothing yet worthy of honour, and you did not even know my name.” “No,” Pyrrha admitted. “But now I do, and I will look for your deeds, and one day, I will be honoured to meet you again.” Atalanta nodded her head. “You are as courteous as you are brave; do you truly mean to face your enemy in single combat?” “I do,” Pyrrha said. “I have issued my challenge; I have no intention of backing down from it.” “Personally, I would rather shoot someone from behind a tree than face them in a duel,” Atalanta said. “But how to get your foe to a place where you can shoot them?” Pyrrha asked. Atalanta was silent for a moment. “You make an excellent point,” she conceded. “Your way is more perilous, but it does at least draw out the enemy to where they can be fought.” She paused for a moment. “Are you a praying girl, Pyrrha Nikos?” “Um, no,” Pyrrha replied softly. “No, I’m not. I have made offerings in the Temple of Victory, but … no, I am not a praying person.” “Few enough are,” Atalanta acknowledged. “So I shall pray on your behalf to Sirius, the Hound of the Hunt, that you shall catch your quarry and return with the spoils.” “And I to Thessaly,” Medea added. “I thank you both,” Pyrrha said, “but now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to Arslan.” “Tyche Agathe, as they say,” Medea said as she gestured towards the door. Pyrrha glanced at her and nodded. “Indeed.” She used her scroll to gain entry into the building, but as the door swung open, she paused in the doorway. “I … don’t suppose that either of you know where Team Auburn’s dorm room is?” Medea chuckled. “Come with me,” she said. “I’ll show you.” “I’m much obliged to you,” Pyrrha said, stepping inside the dormitory so that Medea could come in. Medea took the lead from that point, and Pyrrha followed her up two flights of stairs. “I have to say,” Medea said, as they walked, “I’m a little disappointed in how changeable some of our young gallants have proven themselves to be over this. Of course, I should have known, the hearts of men are such changeable things after all, as the goddess teaches, but … those who called you traitor and foe to Mistral in the morning now sing your praises as a hero and upholder of the old ways.” “I cannot say that I am sorry that their minds have changed,” Pyrrha replied. “Oh, no, you must not mistake me; I’m not sorry for that either,” Medea said. “It’s just that, well, if you’re going to have bad opinions, at least have the courage to hold to them for a little while. Changeable, as I said. Was it very tiresome for you receiving all those well wishers?” She didn’t give Pyrrha a chance to answer before she added, “You’ll notice that Jason and Meleager weren’t among them.” “Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Yes, I did notice that.” “I told them that an apology now would seem insincere,” Medea explained. “Although you may get one later … and it will be meant,” she added. “If it is meant,” Pyrrha said, “then I will look forward to it.” Medea led her down a corridor, looking very similar to the corridors in the dormitory where Pyrrha and her team lived, coming to a stop behind a certain door, functionally indistinguishable from all the rest. “Here we are,” Medea said. “I’ll leave you to what business you have with our Golden Lion. The moon watch over you, Pyrrha Nikos.” “I will endeavour to give her something worth watching,” Pyrrha replied. Medea smiled. “I’m sure you will.” She walked back the way that she had come, gathering the folds of her robe around her, humming softly as she went. Pyrrha looked at the door and knocked gently upon it. There was a moment of silence when nothing happened, before one of Arslan’s teammates, the one with fluorescent green hair, opened the door. “Oh, hey,” she said. “You want to speak to Arslan?” “If that’s possible,” Pyrrha said. “Is she here?” The other girl nodded. “Hey, Arslan! Pyrrha Nikos out here.” “Coming,” came Arslan’s reply. The other girl stepped back to allow Arslan to come to the doorway. “Hey, Pyrrha. What’s up?” “Cinder has accepted my challenge,” Pyrrha said. “We will meet in the Emerald Forest at midnight.” Arslan’s eyebrows rose. “Someone’s trying a little too hard. Do you want me to put the word out so that everyone knows that the duel is going ahead?” “Actually, I was hoping that you’d agree to be one of my two marshals tonight,” Pyrrha informed her. Arslan’s eyebrows climbed yet higher into the recesses of her wild and unkept mane of hair. “Me?” she said. “You want me to go down there with you?” “If it’s not too much trouble,” Pyrrha said. “Although, as I say that, I realise that I am asking a great deal.” “It’s not that so much,” Arslan said. “I just thought you’d want your own teammates to be there.” “Jaune will be there,” Pyrrha informed her. “But Sunset is not acceptable to the other side; they don’t trust her not to intervene in the duel.” “And Ruby?” “I’m not sure I trust Ruby not to intervene in the duel either,” Pyrrha admitted. “I see,” Arslan murmured. “Sure, I’ll go with you. I can even film the fight.” “Is that allowed?” Pyrrha asked. “I’m sure there’s no rule against it,” Arslan said. “And besides, you want to be able to prove that you actually fought the fight, don’t you?” “I’m not sure that I want to release a video of myself killing someone,” Pyrrha murmured. “You challenged someone to a duel to the death,” Arslan pointed out. “The death is … kind of important.” “Perhaps, but … it sounds rather ghoulish to put it out there for people to see,” Pyrrha replied. “Some of my fans are children.” “Also a very good point,” Arslan acknowledged. “You don’t have to decide right now, but I’m okay to film it, and then you can decide what or if you want to upload later, yeah?” “Very well,” Pyrrha said. “You can film. I doubt that Cinder will object.” Arslan put one hand upon the doorframe and leaned against it. “So, how are you feeling?” Pyrrha hesitated. “The anticipation before a big fight is … I’d rather get it over with. The hours will pass so slowly. I want it done. I want her done. I want … I want this shadow that hovers about my shoulders gone.” “How does she fight?” Arslan asked. “What does she fight with?” “Glass,” Pyrrha said. “Glass which she moulds; it must be her semblance. I have seen her use a bow and a pair of scimitars, both forged from the same glass; it changes to her will. Of the two, I fear the bow more; she can manipulate the direction of her arrows, control their flight, even make them explode.” Arslan winced. “What are you going to do about that?” “Close the distance as soon as possible,” Pyrrha said. “And keep it closed, never giving her an opportunity to open it up again. She cannot hurt me with arrows she cannot shoot.” Arslan nodded. “Sounds like you have it all straight in your head,” she said. “You’ve got nothing to worry about; you’ll be fine.” Cinder had her back to the door, standing facing the windows, looking out across the decaying grounds of Portchester Manor. Once, she supposed, it had been a beautiful, a grand sight, a sight to impress upon visitors the wealth of the family, that they could afford a splendid garden and the gardeners to maintain it. Now, it was nothing but weeds and overgrown grass; everything else had died or succumbed to decay. Death would claim all things in the end, save only Salem herself. For the rest of them, those who were blessed and cursed with a mortal life, death would come for them now or later, so why fear it? Why fly before it? Why not, as the ancient Pyrrha had, choose to burn brightly, for however brief a moment? Because, perhaps, there are those that we would leave behind who would grieve at our passing. Perhaps you should have remembered that, Mother. Fortunately, that is not true of me. I have nothing and no one to hold me back. There is nothing to impede my choice. I am the true heir to the old ways; I am the true evenstar of a kingdom which, like this decaying garden, is crumbling before the advance of time. I am full of wrath, I am bent upon revenge, I am the enemy of a great kingdom who will bring down its walls. In what way is Pyrrha Nikos a better Pyrrha than I am, save her name? I am the inheritor of that old heroic spirit, and I will make my claim undeniable. “Look at me,” Cinder murmured. “I am the daughter of a pilot, a gentleman was my father, yet death and inexorable destiny are waiting for me.” Let me only conquer Pyrrha before I die. Cinder wished … Cinder wished that the gods were real; then she could have prayed to them, as the heroes of old had done, prayed to win undying glory in the field, prayed to make her name infamous before she died. But the gods were not real. They had never been real. The only real gods had forsaken the world of men long ere the men of Mistral had constructed gods to pray to. Cinder could not help but find that fact a little … disappointing. The gods played such a great part in the story of The Mistraliad and in the other myths that to find out that they did not exist, that that part of the story was … well, you had to wonder what that part of the story was, didn’t you? Exaggeration? Magic? Fiction? Of course, the rest of the stories were true. Cinder believed that with all her heart. Certain Atlesian scholars, uncultured philistines that they were, had begun to suggest all sorts of wild and contemptible theories about the composition of The Mistraliad, from dates to authorship. All of these, Cinder dismissed with magisterial disdain; The Mistraliad had been composed by the blind bard Demodocus, and he had recorded events that had actually happened no more than two generations removed from his own time and which had come down to him from the lips of those that were there. It recorded things that had really happened — apart from the gods obviously — just as all the great legends did. Demodocus had recorded the truth about real people, and their real deeds had echoed down the centuries to inspire Cinder when she had been at her lowest ebb. Those Atlesian scholars, puffed up with their own cleverness, would never understand what it was about these Mistralian tales that resonated in the hearts of men, because they were too busy trying to rip them to shreds. They could not see the forest for the … no, it was worse than that; they could not see the great house for all the bricks they were so cheerfully ripping out of the walls to study them more closely. And yet, the great house would remain standing long after they and their theories had been forgotten. If Cinder lived long enough to carry Salem’s war to Atlas, she might pay those scholars a visit and remind them of that fact. And then kill them, for trying to spoil everyone’s fun. If she lived. “Cinder?” Cinder looked over her shoulder. Emerald stood in the doorway; she no longer cowered as she would have done; her back was straight and her chin was up. Cinder was proud of her for that; she was not doing so well with her elocution, which had a regrettable tendency to slide back towards the plebeian in sound and language, but she had mastered posture admirably well, and the rest would come, with time and practice. She would make a rare lady, Cinder was sure. One like Cinder’s own mother even, able to hold her own in at least the society of officers and gentlemen, even if she could not quite pass muster amongst the grand old families of Mistral. The likes of Nikos and Rutulus and Ming would probably smell her out as not belonging, but if Emerald set her sights a little lower, then Cinder had no doubt that she would fool them all. And if she kept on practicing, then there was no reason she should need to lower her sights. She really was doing very well. “Emerald,” she said calmly. “Did you speak to Sunset?” Emerald nodded. “I just finished with her.” “Good,” Cinder said. She paused for a moment. “How did she sound?” Emerald hesitated. “We … share a common feeling that this is … ill advised.” Cinder chuckled. “Were you so careful with your words when you and Sunset were talking about Pyrrha and I behind our backs?” “Yes, of course.” Cinder raised one eyebrow. “You’re an excellent liar, Emerald.” “Thank you, Cinder.” Cinder smirked. “She is worried for Pyrrha, then?” “She wouldn’t admit it in so many words,” Emerald said. “But yes, I think so.” She paused for a moment. “I’m worried about you, too.” Cinder looked away, turning her face and her gaze back out upon the gardens. “Sunset should be concerned for Pyrrha.” “But I should not be worried about you?” Emerald asked. “I…” Cinder hesitated for a moment. “Destiny is all,” she said. “What terms did you agree with Sunset?” “The duel will take place at midnight,” Emerald said. “In a clearing in the Emerald Forest; that way, we won’t be spotted by Atlesian forces, or Valish for that matter, although that’s less of a concern. It’s the same reason that I chose midnight; the darkness will give us cover.” Cinder nodded. “That is sensible, and I am not opposed to it. It will lend our battle a certain rarefied air.” She smiled. “We will meet upon the witching hour of night, with unquiet spirits as our witnesses, and the moonlight shall shine upon our clashing blades.” And by the end, Pyrrha will have become just such an unquiet spirit, or I will. “Oh, that I had a lamb,” she said. “A lamb?” “Or a pig,” Cinder added. “Either would do.” “For what?” Emerald asked. “Why would you want either of them? Are you hungry?” Always, but for something other than the flesh of an animal, Cinder thought. Her hunger was of a different sort, a sort that could not be sated, a sort that was eternal and restless and consuming. It gnawed at her, as if, in the absence of sustenance, it had begun to devour her own insides. Cinder tried to ignore it, since she could not sate it, but it was hard when it gnawed so hard and roared so loudly. “I would cut their throats and make a sacrifice of them, as was done in the days of old,” Cinder explained. “And I would let their blood pool in a cup, and with that blood, I’d paint my face all in red, I’d smear myself with it, I’d wash my hair in it and let the blood drops mat within my raven locks.” She turned to face Emerald. “I would make myself a frightful apparition and appear before Pyrrha looking like something deathly monstrous.” “You’d ruin your dress,” Emerald pointed out. Cinder let out a bark of laughter. “Yes, yes, I suppose I would, and it isn’t as though we can send out for dry cleaning. Perhaps it is a good thing there are no farm animals close at hand after all. Who will be there, aside from Pyrrha herself?” “Two marshals,” Emerald said. “I don’t know who they’ll be, except that Sunset won’t be one of them. I insisted on that. After what happened with Adam, I don’t trust her.” “No,” Cinder agreed. “Sunset is … not without honour, but that honour would never stand up to the possibility of Pyrrha’s death. To prevent that, she would break all oaths and violate all codes of conduct. So, it will be Jaune then, and … Ruby, perhaps, or someone else. A Mistralian. It matters not; by custom, they cannot interfere unless I or my marshals violate the customs of the duel, which I will not. Two marshals, then; once we are done here, tell Lightning Dust to start getting ready; I will have Tempest babysit Sonata until we return. Thank you, Emerald; you have done well.” Emerald smiled slightly. “My pleasure, Cinder.” Cinder was silent for a moment. “In Mistral,” she said, “about half a mile south of the city wall, shielded from view of the road by some trees, there is a hill called CaoCao’s hill. It is there, according to the old tales, that two lovers, Pylades and Deianeira, arranged to meet. You see, their fathers were great rivals and had forbidden the two to meet, but they had spoken through a chink in the wall that separated the gardens of their houses. In love, they arranged to meet at this hill and thence to fly far away where they might, without the peril of Mistralian law, be wed. “Deianeira arrived first, but there, waiting in the darkness for her love, she was set upon by a beowolf. She fled, escaping from the grimm, but dropping her shawl in the process. The beowolf mauled upon the garment a little and then … wandered off, in search of other prey, leaving Deianeira’s ruined shawl behind for Pylades to find when he arrived upon the hill. Believing his love to be dead at the paws of the grimm, he took his own life in grief, and then, returning to the scene to find Pylades dead, Deianeira did likewise.” “What a sad story,” Emerald murmured. “Tragic, really.” “Is it?” Cinder asked. “Isn’t it?” “Tragedy implies something … internal,” Cinder said. “A flaw in the hero which drives him to his end. What happened to Pylades and Deianeira was sad, to be sure, but also the result of nothing more than bad luck; their own natures played no part in it. Unless it is their parents’ tragedy; had they not been so bitter towards one another, so uncompromising … they could have allowed their children happiness, had they wished. Instead, they drove them to their deaths out of stubbornness and pride. In any case, if you go to that hill, you will find a cherry tree growing there now, and if you dig at the roots of the tree, you will find a sackful of treasure that I buried there some years previously.” Emerald blinked. “Treasure? You mean … like, pirate treasure?” Cinder laughed. “No, Emerald, my life has not been quite that long to fit exploits of piracy into it, although the treasure that a pirate takes starts out as quite ordinary treasure before the pirate gets his hands upon it so … yes, I suppose you may be right, it is like pirate treasure. But this treasure … it belonged to my father.” Emerald’s eyes widened somewhat. “Your father?” Cinder nodded. “Inside the bag, you will find some of my mother’s jewellery, a small number of Atlesian medals for service and gallantry, a bejewelled ornamental egg, an elegant snuff box, an engraved silver cigarette case … all of it mine by rights, liberated from those who had sought to deny it to me.” That was … not entirely true. Most of the contents of the buried sack belonged to Ashley Little-Glassman by right, from her father and her mother — her mother’s jewellery, the egg that her father had gotten her mother for their anniversary, the snuff box and cigarette case that she had gotten him — but there were a few items in there that had belonged to the Kommenos family, like the gold and silver goblets that one of their ancestors had won in the conquest of Kaledonia. Those Cinder had taken in payment for her years of unpaid labour. But to say that would be to say more to Emerald than Cinder was willing to admit. “Your family,” Emerald murmured. “Why did you bury it?” “I had no home,” Cinder said. “And I could hardly carry a sack full of valuables with me on the road, could I? In any case, I … I had no immediate need of it.” “You could have sold it,” Emerald pointed out. “Perhaps,” Cinder allowed. “Although I would have been forced to accept far below what the items were worth, in the circumstances, in order to find a buyer in the lower slopes. I was … not in much position to bargain at the time. And at the time…” At the time, I didn’t want to sell them. I didn’t want to cut this last tie with Ashley’s life, with the life that I had known when I was happy. “I didn’t feel as though I needed the lien, at the time,” Cinder went on. “I had other plans.” Emerald paused for a moment. “Why are you telling me this?” “Because I’m giving it to you,” Cinder said. “The treasure beneath the cherry tree; you may retrieve it and do with it as you will. It’s all yours.” “But it’s yours,” Emerald replied. “Your family—” “Mine to give to whom I choose,” Cinder said, cutting her off. “You asked me once how you could be a lady without money, and I told you that I would address that later; well, here we are: I am addressing it. I am giving you wealth, at least enough to get started. When you open the sack, you will find that some of the things within are quite valuable. Make sure that you aren’t cheated, and you should have a store of working capital at your disposal.” “And you’ll be dead,” Emerald said. “That’s the point, isn’t it? You mean to die, so you’re leaving me everything.” “Would you rather I left it to Lightning Dust?” Cinder asked. “I’d rather you didn’t leave it to anyone at all,” Emerald declared. She walked forwards, her heels tapping upon the wooden floor of the library, until she and Cinder were less than an arm’s length apart. “Go to Mistral yourself, go to the hill with the cherry tree, dig up your own treasure, and—” “And then what?” “Whatever you want!” Emerald cried. “When you have money, you can do anything. Money is … it’s freedom.” Cinder smiled thinly. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, it is. Freedom to do as you will and to harm others if you wish.” She turned away and turned her back on Emerald. “But I … I do not desire freedom.” “Do you seriously mean to tell me that in this whole wide world, there is nothing at all that you would consider living for?” Emerald asked. “This wide world is so cruel,” Cinder replied. “This wide world is so hostile. This wide world is so full of the most wretched, hideous, corrupt, contemptible, hateful people that you can imagine. So no, Emerald, there is nothing in this world that would persuade me to live in this world alongside those I hate, because that would mean letting them live too, and accepting all the cruelty and the pain. Rather, I will kill those I hate, as many as I can, all of them if I am allowed, and take a torch to this world and burn away the rotten flesh of its monstrosities. Though it cost me everything, I will do it.” After all, it has cost me so much already, I can hardly turn back now. “Provided you don’t die tonight,” Emerald muttered. Cinder snorted. “Yes, Emerald, provided that I do not die tonight.” “If…” Emerald murmured. “If you used—” “No,” Cinder said firmly. “I will not do that.” “But you’d win for sure!” Emerald protested. “That is precisely why I will not; it would defeat the object, it would prove nothing,” Cinder declared. “I am the truer warrior than Pyrrha is, the fire burns brighter in my breast, the beowolf howls louder in my soul, I am the hungrier to triumph by far than that complacent girl. I do not need to steal a victory, and if I did … it would undermine any claim to superiority I might possess. I will conquer with my own strength … or fall, if destiny would have it so.” My destiny is grander than to fall at Pyrrha’s hands. At least, I hope that it is so. Pyrrha’s steps had taken her beyond the armoury, leaving the sounds of the forge behind as she approached the river that ran towards Vale. The water flowed past her, babbling as it went, a swift-flowing torrent rushing towards the sea. It was clean here, and it seemed almost golden in the afternoon sunlight; Pyrrha wondered if it would be so clean when it finally reached the ocean. It reminded her of home a little; in Mistral, a spring sat near the top of the mountain and flowed down it, waterfall by waterfall, cascading down the steps carved into the rock, rushing down the slope, watering the high and middle and the low all at once; no matter how much might divide the people of Mistral, they all drank from the same water. Pyrrha approached this river, here at Beacon, watching it flow past her, indifferent to her and to all her deeds. She might live, or she might die, and the water would keep on flowing just the same. It was a thought both comforting and terrifying in equal measure. The water flowed past her, just as it did back home. Home where Pyrrha’s thoughts turned now. The Colosseum, the Temple of Victory, the White Tower, the Palace and the Fountain Courtyard; the Cthoneum, dug out of the heart of the mountain, where games were held each year at the turning of winter to spring to honour the gods of the underworld; the plazas, the statues, the steps emerging out of the slopes of the mountain to provide additional flat land to build upon. The columns and the colonnades, the gleaming marble, the polished bronze, the beauty. The way the banners on the walls rippled in the wind. The way the crowd cheered as she emerged from darkness into light. The way the paint felt on her face as they made her up for her triumphal chariot ride. Her home. Her past. Her past … and her future too. Pyrrha closed her eyes and listened to the water running by in ignorance of her and vowed to herself that she would not perish at Cinder’s hands; she would not accept that as her destiny. That was not her final goal, to die at the hands of a mean, black-hearted villain. That was not the end of the road that she was walking. She would win, and she would go home, and she would see all those old places again, and more than once, and she would live amongst them with the respect of the people and of her peers. This … this was the moment. This was what she had been preparing for her whole life, though she knew it not, this moment when she would confront an enemy bent on doing grievous harm to the world: not an immortal demon, not a host of monsters, but a woman, like her. A woman swift and strong, just like her, but a woman she could defeat. A woman she could kill. Pyrrha wondered what that would be like. To take a life. Jaune had done it, Sunset had done it, but she … this would be her first. And she did not know what it would be like, to see blood stain Miló, to see it spill upon the ground and know that she had been the cause. Better Cinder’s blood than innocent blood, Pyrrha thought. She did not know how she would react, but … she would bear it, to say the least. It might not be in fashion to rejoice at the death of an enemy as the heroes of old had done, but that did not mean that Pyrrha had to weep for them either. Cinder had chosen this path. She could not complain about where it led. This is how I will protect the world. Pyrrha’s eyes snapped open as her scroll went off. She frowned a little beneath her circlet as she fished the device out of her pouch, wondering who would be calling her. Perhaps it was one of her friends; better them than the press wanting a comment. Somewhat to her surprise, it was Blake. Pyrrha opened up her scroll and answered it. “Blake?” Blake’s face looked up at her from out of the screen. “Hey, Pyrrha; I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.” “No, it’s fine,” Pyrrha said quickly. “Although I am a little surprised to hear from you.” “Well, I was surprised to find out that you’d challenge Cinder to a fight to the death,” Blake replied. “So I guess … no, I’m still the more surprised.” “You know about that?” Pyrrha said. “I wouldn’t have expected it to be news in Atlas.” “It isn’t,” Blake said. “But I keep an eye on the Valish news; I have push notifications set up; I want to know in case anything happens while I’m gone.” “I see,” Pyrrha said evenly. “Are you going to try and talk me out of it?” Blake smirked. “Now why would I want to do a thing like that?” “Some people seem to feel as though I’m making a mistake,” Pyrrha explained. “Rainbow Dash would probably think so, if she were here,” Blake admitted. “But she isn’t, I am, and I … I envy you a little.” “'Envy'?” “I trust that you wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t think you could win,” Blake said. “Has she taken the bait?” “Bait implies there is a trap somewhere,” Pyrrha observed. “There is not. There is only me, with Miló in one hand and Akoúo̱ in the other, ready to partake in one of the most ancient and, in some ways, most sacred of rituals.” “Very well,” Blake allowed. “Has she agreed to duel with you?” “She has,” Pyrrha said. “We meet at midnight in the Emerald Forest.” “Midnight,” Blake murmured. “Appropriate. The death of one day and the rising of another.” “When you put it like that,” Pyrrha murmured. “It’s much like the rationale for meeting at dawn, no?” Blake asked. “I suppose so, but I think that Cinder wishes the cover of darkness as much as the symbolism.” “The pragmatic and the poetic can coexist,” Blake pointed out. “The point is … I envy that you have an enemy you can defeat. You can face your foe in single combat, defeat her, kill her even. And then she will be dead and done, and the world will be a better place for it. I wish that I could be so fortunate.” “Racism is not so easily overcome as Cinder Fall,” Pyrrha said softly. “No,” Blake said. “No, it isn’t.” She paused for a moment. “Which is why I think you’re very lucky. You get the chance to make a difference with a stroke of your sword.” “With good fortune.” “Tyche Agathe,” Blake translated. “Those are the words on your honour band, aren’t they?” “They are, yes.” “Then fortune will favour you,” Blake declared. “Because I am in the right?” Pyrrha asked. “Why not?” Blake responded. “Right will win out in the end. I believe that. I have to believe that. Right will win so long as we have the courage to fight for it. Pyrrha, will you do something for me?” “What?” “Call me tomorrow,” Blake said, “and tell me how you conquered.” Pyrrha smiled. “I will,” she said. “I promise.” Blake nodded on the other side of the scream. “Then I will leave you to your preparations. Good fortune and fate smile upon you.” She hung up. "Pyrrha?" Pyrrha turned from the waist, twisting her body around to look behind her. Ruby stood there, hands clasped together in front of her. "Ruby," Pyrrha said, putting her scroll away. "How did you—?" "I've been looking for you," Ruby replied. "I… I don't want to disturb you, but … can we talk? Just for a little bit, I promise." "Of course," Pyrrha said, "we can talk for as long as you like." A smile appeared briefly upon Ruby's face, and then faded as she walked towards Pyrrha. She came to stand by Pyrrha's side, not looking right at her, but rather looking at the river that flowed past them, heading onwards towards Vale and the ocean beyond. For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the water's rippling sound as it went by. Ruby gripped her left elbow with her right hand, her silver gaze falling downwards towards the ground. "You know," she said, "if I could … I'd give you my eyes." Pyrrha looked down at her. "Ruby—" "It's fine," Ruby said, "I get it. The power that I have is kind of incredible, and it would be even more if I knew how to use it better. But if I could … I'd give it to you, if that would make you happy." She looked up at Pyrrha, a slightly mischievous smile playing across her face. "I'm not sure Jaune would like silver eyes as much as he likes your green eyes, though." Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she chuckled. "Ruby … I don't want to steal your power away from you." "But you wouldn't be, if I gave it to you," Ruby pointed out. "No," Pyrrha murmured. "No, I suppose you wouldn't be. But you can't." "No," Ruby admitted. "I guess I can't, but … but I would, if it would make you happy." "You would give up your power just to make me happy?" "Well, that and because I know that you'd make good use of it," Ruby added. She paused for a moment, looking away from Pyrrha. "I … I never wanted to be a hero." Unlike me, Pyrrha thought, although Ruby's tone, soft and slightly melancholy, made it hard to tell if she was being rebuked or not. Her response was cautious, "No?" "No," Ruby said. "I was never … growing up, I knew about Mom, Yang used to tell me stories, but … nobody used to tell me that I had to be like her, nobody told me that I wasn't living up to her example, nobody told me that I needed to uphold the Rose name." "So you think it is my upbringing that has bred this desire in me?" Pyrrha asked. "Hasn’t it?" Ruby replied. Pyrrha was quiet for a moment. "You may be right, at least in large part," she admitted, "but I could have upheld the dignity of the Nikos name by remaining in Mistral and racking up an endless succession of tournament victories. I chose this path for myself." A sigh escaped her. "Although I suppose that 'this path' need not have included my more grandiose ambitions. You think I'm being vain, don't you?" "No," Ruby said. "I don't … I've been looking for you because I don't want you to think that … I wasn't trying to insult you; I just… I get frustrated sometimes, because—" "Because we have given you cause for frustration," Pyrrha murmured. Ruby snorted. "Yeah. Yeah, pretty much." "I am sorry for that; it was…" Pyrrha trailed off, unable to say quite what it was. "It came from care, perhaps even the same care that now drives you to think I am the one making a mistake." Ruby took a moment to reply. "If … if you wanted to stand your ground against a horde of grimm to help one hundred people, ten people, even just one person get away, even though it would cost you your life … I would never say a word against it; Sunset might, but I wouldn't. I wouldn't think less of you, and I wouldn't hear a word said against you, either. But this…" "It is true that nobody's life is directly threatened at present," Pyrrha acknowledged. "We're here to help people," Ruby said. "Not to cover ourselves in glory. When there are lives at stake then we should be prepared to give everything, even our lives, but now … nothing's at stake here but—" "But my life, and that of Cinder Fall," Pyrrha said. "But tell me, Ruby, and tell me true and honestly … how may I help people better than by striking down Salem's champion and, with her, killing all her plots and schemes? What better service to the people can I offer? True, I will not save a life directly, no one will thank me for their salvation, but what of that? Is help not help regardless?" "But if that's what this is about, then let's go together!" Ruby cried, balling her hands into fists and raising them up to just beneath her chin. "Let me and Sunset go into the Emerald Forest with you, we'll lie in wait and ambush Cinder, we'll take her down together." "Lure her into a trap?" Pyrrha asked. "Deceive her? Break my word?" "She'd do it to us," Ruby said. "I'm not entirely sure that's true," Pyrrha murmured, "and even if it was, don't we have an obligation to be better than her?" "We are better than her," Ruby insisted. "We're fighting for … for life against death, like Professor Ozpin said; what could be more obviously right than that?" "And so the justice of our cause justifies anything that we might do in its name?" "Yes!" Ruby declared. "When our enemies are trying to destroy the world and cause massive death and destruction, there is nothing we could do that would make us worse than them: lie, betray … kill, if we have to; with lives and kingdoms at stake, how can we do any less?" "You … may be right," Pyrrha murmured. "In fact, I dare say that you are right, but … when I issued my challenge, I implicitly gave my word that I would act in accordance with the traditional customs around such things; I cannot break it." "Can't, or won't?" "Will not, if you will," Pyrrha conceded. "I will not steal a victory, but earn it." Ruby was silent for a moment. "Well," she said. "If you're gonna win, then I guess it doesn't matter that much how you do it. You are gonna win, right?" "That is certainly my intent," Pyrrha said. Ruby wrapped her arms around Pyrrha's waist, pressing herself against the taller girl. "Come back, okay?" she asked. "Come back with your shield." "With my shield," Pyrrha said. "Or on it." "No," Ruby said. "Not on it. With your shield; I won't accept anything else." Pyrrha smiled and returned the embrace, placing both her arms around Ruby. "Very well then," she said. "With my shield, I will return."