SAPR

by Scipio Smith

Detention in the Emerald Forest (New)

Detention in the Emerald Forest

“So, Professor,” Weiss said, “what will I be assisting you with this afternoon… and evening?” She kept her voice calm, composed, and devoid of any emotion but a little mild curiosity. Certainly, she would not admit to being anything so vulgar or plebeian as concerned. This was only the Emerald Forest, after all. She had braved it three times already without incident – alright, one of those times might have gone very badly for them if it hadn’t been for Professor Goodwitch, but the other two times had been very easy – so what was one time more? Certainly, she was not concerned about venturing here with only Professor Port for company.

Weiss was sure that Professor Port had come by his position at Beacon honestly. Professor Ozpin seemed to think very highly of him, both in the general sense that he allowed him to teach here and in the more specific sense that he had told Weiss, in particular, to listen to the advice of the Grimm Studies professor. That was all very well; it was just… it was Professor Port. The man had so many stories that it was impossible to believe that none of them were in the least bit embellished; he could make even the most daring adventures and most desperate battles soporifically tedious, and he had fake taxidermy on his walls. It was one thing for Benni Haven’s to have a fake stuffed beowolf at the door – that was all in good fun – and even the ursa’s head added to the hunting lodge atmosphere of the restaurant, but a teacher? Weiss was sure she couldn’t be the only student who found it just a little… desperate. As if Professor Port was trying very hard to convince his students that he was a great huntsman and a slayer of grimm.

To be perfectly honest, it reminded Weiss just a little of her father and the way that his house was filled with towering suits of armour and sculptures of grimm in spite of the fact that Jacques had never seen combat and would have wet himself at the sight of a real creature of grimm.

To say that she wished that one of her Beacon teachers did not remind her in some small manner of her father was an understatement.

And yet, here she was, under his supervision for the rest of the day and with only Professor Port to rely on if things became difficult.

She would have rather had just about anyone else.

None of that she showed upon her face. In expression, poise, and bearing she was the perfect student.

If only she could have actually been the perfect student and the perfect team leader… then she would not have been in this position.

Fortunately, if any of Weiss’ misgivings slipped through a crack in the armour of the perfect Schnee heiress, Professor Port did not notice. He leapt down out of the Bullhead with a jovial laugh, landing heavily upon the ground.

The two of them stood in the Emerald Forest, within a clearing some distance into the wood, so that the Beacon cliffs seemed some way off as Weiss glanced at them.

“Well, Miss Schnee,” Professor Port declared, “I hope you haven’t forgotten that your year has another practical test coming up on Sunday.”

Weiss clasped her hands behind her back, “No, Professor, I hadn’t forgotten,” she replied, although mentally, she cursed herself for not making the connection earlier. “Although,” she added, adding a slightly false chuckle to her voice, “I would have thought that the Emerald Forest would have been a little hunted out at this point.”

Professor Port joined her in laughter. “Very droll, Miss Schnee, but the creatures of grimm are like ants; every time you think you are rid of them, more creep into the house. Why, I’m reminded of a time when I was employed to protect a great estate to the east of Mistral; the grimm, you see, were continually harassing the farm labourers, and though they never ventured close to the house, it was proving very difficult to…”

Weiss fought to keep her eye from twitching. Now? He was going to launch into one of his stories now?

“But perhaps now is not the time,” Professor Port said, clearing his throat with what almost sounded like embarrassment. “After all, such a thrilling tale requires a much larger audience! I’m sorry, Miss Schnee, but you’ll have to wait to hear it with your classmates.”

“I’m sure that I can bear that, Professor,” Weiss said calmly. “Ahem, you were saying? About the practical test?”

“Ah, yes,” Professor Port declared. “I was, wasn’t I? Yes, on Sunday, you and your classmates will be returning to the forest to test your skills once more against the creatures of grimm, but this time, it won’t be so easy!”

Weiss’ eyebrows rose. “Are you sure, Professor? The last two times I’ve been in this forest, I fought a grimm horde, both at its full strength and the remnants of it. What could be more difficult than that?”

“Oho! Confidence is a fine trait, Miss Schnee, but don’t forget that pride goes before a fall,” Professor Port admonished. “And if you think that the horde your team encountered here was the worst that the grimm could get, well, I’m afraid that you will be very mistaken once you graduate! I could tell you stories-”

Please don’t, Weiss thought.

“But for now, I shall simply say that, while nothing to sneeze at for having dealt with at your age, a level one horde like that is, well, simply child’s play to an experienced huntsman like myself. In any event, while you may rest assured that there will be something about this particular exercise to keep your children on your toes, I’m afraid it wouldn’t be fair on your classmates to give you information ahead of them. Especially when you’re here as a punishment.”

Weiss winced. “Of course, Professor,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Suffice it to say,” Professor Port went on, “that although the concentrations of grimm in the forest are not as unnaturally high as they were the last time you were here, they will be attracted towards you.”

“'Attracted'?” Weiss repeated. She could not help but frown. “I take it you’re talking about more than natural negative emotions, Professor; I mean, you couldn’t rely on them to draw the kind of grimm numbers you seem to be talking about.”

“Quite right, Miss Schnee,” Professor Port said. “It’s true that grimm are only attracted to humans, and moreso to the negative emotions that they give off, but for many years, huntsmen and huntresses have wrestled with the problem of how to lure grimm into specific areas – to draw them away from populated areas, for instance, or into traps or specifically-prepared killing grounds – and a number of answers, both technological and traditional, have been proposed.”

“'Been proposed'?” Weiss said. “Do they work, Professor?”

Professor Port was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his tone was a little more serious than usual. “I’m afraid, child, that they have never saved a populated area,” he declared mournfully. “Are you familiar with the tragedy of Mountain Glenn?”

As much as Weiss wanted to say yes, she had to admit, “No, Professor, I’m not.”

“A terrible story,” Professor Port said. “One a little too melancholy to retell in too much detail. Suffice to say that Mountain Glenn was an attempt to found a new colony on a scale not seen since many years before the Great War; unfortunately, it soon came under relentless grimm attack. Huntsmen and huntresses made many efforts not only to destroy the grimm, but also to lead them away from the city and back out into the wilds, but it was no good. It seems that our tricks and tools are no match against the draw exerted by an entire conurbation full of frightened people.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Weiss murmured. “The city, what-?”

“A tragic tale, Miss Schnee, as I said,” Professor Port replied.

That told Weiss all that she needed to know. “I see,” she said softly. “But these lures, they work in other circumstances?”

“Oh, yes,” Professor Port agreed. “I’ve used them myself more than once. I favour a traditional Mistralian lure; that uses a grease-proof bag filled with rags soaked in human sweat; the grimm mistake the sweat smell for anxious humans and head towards it.”

Weiss opened her mouth, about to ask how Professor Port got enough sweat to make even a single lure… but then thought better of it. Instead, she asked, “So, we’ll be spreading these lures out across the forest?”

“Goodness no, Miss Schnee!” Professor Port cried. “Carrying around grimm bait would be much too hazardous for a single first-year student. No, some third-years will be planting the lures early on Sunday morning, so that they’re still fresh for your test. What we will be doing is laying out the route that you students will be following and along which the third-years will plant the lures. Here, Miss Schnee, take this.” He handed her a bucket filled with little red flags on plastic poles. “Each flag contains a micro-transmitter so that it can be picked up from a distance, while the flag itself is for students passing by. We’re going to plant them along the ground in rough lines.”

“I see,” Weiss said, noting that Professor Port was, as it happened, telling her a great deal about the forthcoming test. She guessed that the nature of the test would involve following the route marked by the flags, killing any grimm – drawn by the lures – that got in the way. That didn’t sound so difficult; in fact, it seemed so straightforward that Weiss knew there had to be a catch somewhere in order to justify the Professor’s insistence that this would be a difficult test. “You can rely on me, Professor.”

Professor Port’s eyebrows rose. “Can I, Miss Schnee?”

“Yes!” Weiss cried. “What do you mean, Professor?”

“Why do you think you’re here, Miss Schnee?”

“I’m serving detention,” Weiss replied stiffly. “But that doesn’t mean that I can’t be trusted to handle this! I’ve made mistakes, but that doesn’t make me a bad huntress!” She hesitated. “It only… it only makes me a bad leader, that’s all.”

“A huntress who doesn’t care about her comrades may not be a bad huntress, but she will never be a great one,” Professor Port admonished.

“You think that I don’t care?” Weiss demanded.

“Do you?”

“Yes!” Weiss snapped. “I do care… about some of my teammates.”

“And the rest?”

“It’s not my fault they were obnoxious; was I supposed to just ignore that?” Weiss asked. “To bear up with it because I’d been chosen to be team leader? Or am I just supposed to devote my life to fixing them?”

“No one is asking you to do that, Miss Schnee.”

“Then what?” Weiss shouted. “What was I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do? Cardin might be getting better, but it’s too early to tell, and Rusell… what was I supposed to do, Professor Port? If I wasn’t supposed to change them, if I wasn’t supposed to endure, if I wasn’t supposed to turn my back, then what? What… what was I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do?”

She was answered, not by Professor Port, but by the growling of one of the beowolves creeping up behind her.

Weiss’ eye twitched. “Professor, would you allow me?”

It was hard to tell due to his walrus moustache, but she thought that Professor Port smiled. “By all means, child.”

Weiss inclined her head. “Thank you.” She placed one hand upon the hilt of Myrtenaster and turned, whipping the blade free from the sash at her waist to point its gleaming tip at the first beowolf to emerge from the bushes and leapt at her.

A black glyph, conjured by a thought, stopped the beast’s lunge in its tracks, hurling it backwards and into a tree hard enough to crack the trunk. The beowolf yelped, but its mewl of pain was ridden over by the growls of the half-dozen other grimm, led by an alpha, who began to follow it into view, their red eyes gleaming.

The corner of Weiss' lip twitched upwards as the rotary chamber of Myrtenaster slid a cartridge of lightning dust into position. She gestured towards the beowolves, sweeping her sword back as she conjured a trio of light blue glowing glyphs from which beams of pure white leapt like lasers to plunge amidst the grimm. Two beowolves died instantly, and the rest scattered to avoid Weiss’ fire. She switched to ice dust, flourishing her blade before her as a wave of ice erupted across the clearing to encase the alpha beowolf by the legs and trap it fast. Weiss conjured white glyphs for movement, sliding above the ice with the nimble grace of which a figure skater would have been envious even as the remaining grimm slipped and skidded and scrabbled for purchase on the slick surface.

Another black glyph, conjured directly beneath a struggling beowolf’s flailing feet, catapulted it up into the air. Weiss pursued, leaping from glyph to glyph upwards into the air. Myrtenaster lanced up, piercing the beowolf’s back from below and turning it to ash before her eyes. Weiss descended, flying downwards like a fearsome thunderbolt to drive her rapier straight through the mouth of a grimm that was trying to leap up and get at her where she had been so high.

Two beowolves and the alpha remained, and the alpha was still trapped. One of the two other beowolves was the one that she had hurled into a tree already, and that one hung back, seeming nervous after what she had done to it and to its pack mates.

Weiss sniffed. Let it be afraid. She might not be a good leader, but she was very good at this.

The other beowolf, less wise than its fellow, charged at her, claws biting into the ice for purchase. Weiss chambered fire dust. She pirouetted in place, her side ponytail flying around her as she spun with arms wide around her, and a wave of fire billowed out of Myrtenaster in a wide arc that struck the grimm. The beowolf howled as the flames began to consume it; it lost all interest in Weiss but flailed manically as it sought in vain to put the fires out. Weiss let it burn and turned her attention to the last non-alpha beowolf, the one who had already tasted a little of what she could do.

The beowolf whimpered.

Weiss charged, a line of glyphs carrying her forwards, Myrtenaster held before her like a lance, her ponytail streaming behind her like a banner. She came in low, crouched down, passing beneath the beowolf’s clumsy lunge, and then the glyph beneath her feet propelled her upwards with a swing to impale the beowolf’s head up through its lower jaw.

She landed gracefully back on the ground and dusted the ashes of the beowolf off her skirt with one idle hand.

There was a crack in the ice as the alpha freed itself.

All of its pack was dead – the burning beowolf had succumbed now to the flames – but the alpha remained, larger and stronger than all the rest of them, and its body more covered with armoured plates and large protruding spurs of bone-like substance.

He was more heavily protected than the rest, but he was not invulnerable.

I’d been looking for a chance to practice my time dilation.

As the alpha stomped towards her, ignoring Professor Port, Weiss swept up her blade in a gesture which might, against a human opponent, have looked like a salute.

Suffice to say that she was not saluting the grimm.

No, she was conjuring what was – until she learned how to summon – the most powerful glyph in her arsenal.

It was pale, more ethereal than the rest of her glyphs, harder to see; it was a pale, smoky silver, almost translucent, with a mercurial quality as though it were unstable and might vanish at any moment.

And within the quicksilver band spun the gears of a clock.

The world slowed around her. Professor Port, barely moving at any rate, was frozen solid; the alpha beowolf was trapped in treacle to her eyes, its motions stiff and drawn out. Every movement of its foot, every swing of its arms, it all took so long as the air seemed to stick about it and constrain its progress.

It would not constrain Weiss.

She swept her sword down as she sped forwards over a line of glyphs, sweeping past the nearly immobile alpha and dealing out a slashing stroke that was aimed perfectly at a weak spot in its armour. She stopped and turned, and the creature seemed to have barely begun to react.

Weiss conjured glyphs, so many glyphs, a dome of white glyphs sprouting out of the air all around the alpha beowolf who, bound by time as he was, could not react at all.

Weiss leapt. She jumped from glyph to glyph, each white snowflake holding her up in the air, suspending her no matter the angle, and from those platforms, she leapt down upon her prey. Again and again, she fell on him, struck at him, and then leapt away to land with ease upon another glyph.

The beowolf was a nearly stationary target, Weiss had all the time in the world to find the weakspots in its armour, and it died the death of a thousand cuts.

The time dilation glyph, all of her glyphs, flickered out existence as the alpha died, and the dispersal of its ashes sped up noticeably as it did so.

There was silence in the forest clearing, a silence that was broken only by the sound of Professor Port slamming his meaty hands together in applause. “Bravo, Miss Schnee, bravo! You are truly a talented huntress in training.”

Weiss bowed slightly at the waist as she sheathed Myrtenaster once more. “Thank you, Professor.”

“But not yet a great one,” Professor Port cautioned.

Weiss pouted. “The beowolves didn’t give you the chance to answer my question, Professor.”

“No,” he conceded. “I didn’t. But don’t Professor Goodwitch’s lessons provide an answer for you?”

Weiss looked away, glancing down at the soil beneath her feet. “A good leader should know those whom she leads,” she murmured. “But I didn’t want to know them. What I saw… was quite enough for me.”

“And what do you think people see when they look at you, Miss Schnee?” Professor Port asked.

Weiss stiffened at the emphasis he placed upon her name. “I am more than my name would say I am,” she replied; she could have argued to defend that name and the achievements of her grandfather, but to what end? It was not relevant to the discussion at hand. The fact of the matter was, as much as she hated it, that in the eyes of the general populace, her name meant only and exactly what her father had made of it.

“And how will people discover that, if what they see at first is quite enough?” Professor Port asked.

Weiss frowned. “That tells me what I should have done,” she said. “But it doesn’t tell me what I should do now. I mean, I should probably get to know my teammates better, and I’ve made a start with Cardin already, but… what if there is little more to them than what I didn’t care for in the first place? And even that isn’t so… is there any way to make up for all the time that’s been lost?”

Professor Port was silent for a moment. “Do you know what you want, Miss Schnee?”

“Of course.”

“And do you know what your teammates want?”

Weiss glanced down at the ground once more. She had some idea of what Cardin wanted, but only a vague notion of what Flash wanted – she realised with a pang of guilt that she had never really asked. Of Russell, she had not a clue. She had treated her teammates almost as carelessly as her father treated his employees. “Not really, Professor.”

“A team must walk forwards as one,” Professor Port declared. “Which means that all of its members must all walk towards all of your goals, together.”

“You’re saying that I have to help their dreams in order to reach my own?”

“In order that they will help you to reach your own, Miss Schnee.”

Wiess nodded. In the general sense, Professor Port made, well, a great deal of sense. It was the specific case of Cardin Winchester that was troubling her. “Professor… what if one of my teammates’ current desire is… to get back together with his girlfriend?”

Once more, it seemed that Professor Port smiled, and if Weiss had been able to see his eyes, she would have wagered on spotting a glint of mischief there. “Then you had best work out how to play matchmaker, Miss Schnee.”

Comments

[Mastermind4892]

Humility is the hardest lesson, and the best teacher.

[Kiue Jin]

I think this was the moment above all others when I would prove to be a bad huntsman. The moment that the Beowolf showed fear, my gut instinct and natural empathy kicked in... and as a person I would have given it the chance to leave. I don't mean just ignoring it and focusing on the remaining pack, I mean full on acknowledging it as an entity and even if it couldn't understand what I was saying, making it clear via my actions that I wouldn't attack it further and would let it leave if it choose to. Then again... a part of me cannot help but be an idealist; A creature that understands and feels fear could possibly develop empathy for others.

[Adser]

10737008
I would usually agree with you, any sentient being can learn and choose their actions, and that means compromise can be obtained no matter how unlikely actually getting there is.

The problem is that Grimm are literally made to screw over humanity, and so far we have got no evidence that they can get over this original directive. As long as that stays true any show of mercy is just screwing someone else later along the way when the Grimm comes back stronger.

That said, the people of Remnant don't know that last point, so I wouldn't be surprised if there are some people who see the evidence of Grimm sentience and are attempting (or have attempted) some kind of understanding, doomed as it is to be.

[ChaosDX1]

Hm, didn't know Grimm could feel fear. Thought they were just unfeeling constructs of anger and destruction. Good. That assumption always annoyed me most about them. To quote a character from another universe, "It is a shame the [Grimm] do not cry, or bleed, or s*** themselves in terror." -Thorn

For a creature made to create fear and suffering, it's nice to be able to turn the tables. Now if only they left corpses that could be cooked. That would be a boon.