SAPR

by Scipio Smith

Words from the Headmaster (New)

Words from the Headmaster

As Ruby walked towards the YRBN dorm room, she felt her trepidation growing within her. She felt the desire to turn back and return to her own room rising. She felt a growing sense of nervousness at what she was about to do.

She wanted to tell Yang the truth. Yang was her sister, and she was already keeping far more secrets from her than she would like; at least she could tell herself that they weren’t any of Yang’s business and that it didn’t hurt her to not know them, but this? This was huge. This was something that affected them as people and as huntresses-in-training, and this was something that Yang deserved to know about, and yet, the thought of actually telling her was starting to make Ruby so nervous that it was turning her feet to lead.

“Are you okay?” asked Blake, who was walking by her side until their paths diverged at the dorm room.

“Yes,” Ruby said. “No. I don’t know how to tell Yang all this. Do you think I should tell Yang all this?”

Blake considered it. “What will it do to you if you don’t do this?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop thinking about it every time I talk to her,” murmured Ruby, looking down as she played with the hem of her skirt with both hands.

“Then tell her,” Blake said. “Don’t destroy what you have with your sister for the sake of Professor Ozpin or what he wants. It’s not worth it. It never is.”

Ruby nodded. “All the same… how do you think she’ll take it?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “I… I don’t know. Certainly, I don’t know Yang nearly as well as you, if you don’t know… Yang is a good person, strong, smart, level-headed-”

“I know,” Ruby said plaintively.

“But this information…” Blake trailed off for a moment. “It’s a lot to take in. It’s hard to predict how anyone will react to it.”

“Do you think she’ll want to know?” asked Ruby.

“I think… I think she’ll want to know the truth, and from you,” Blake replied judiciously. “As for whether or not she’ll want to know… I can’t say. What I can say is that you can do this. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really,” Blake said. “I’ve never seen anyone so quick to run into danger as you. That’s why it’s a little weird that this is what’s bothering you.”

Ruby laughed nervously. “Yeah, well, grimm are easier than conversations, sometimes.”

Blake chuckled. “Right.” They had reached the YRBN dorm door. “Well, I guess this is it. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “I think so. I hope so. Maybe.”

“You’ll be fine,” Blake said. She smiled. “Good luck in there.”

“You too,” Ruby said reflexively, because what did Blake need luck for right now? Still, the faunus girl accepted her words and didn’t question them; she waved at Ruby as she walked away. Ruby watched her go, waving back for a moment before squarely facing the door.

I have to tell her. It isn’t right not to tell her.

If she found out that I knew about all this and didn’t tell her, then she’d never forgive me.

She’s my sister, and she deserves to know.

She’s my sister.

I really hope she doesn’t freak out about all this.

Ruby took a deep breath and raised her hand to knock upon the door.

“Miss Rose.”

The voice of Professor Ozpin was calm and quiet, but arresting all the same; it shattered the stillness that had prevailed in the corridor and made Ruby jump with surprise. She hadn’t heard the headmaster approach, yet here he was, that familiar white mug with the axes of Vale emblazoned upon it held lightly in one hand.

“Uh, Professor Ozpin,” Ruby said. “I… I didn’t hear you.”

“I suppose you had a lot on your mind, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said.

“Um… yeah,” Ruby murmured. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Professor Ozpin nodded gravely. “Would you mind coming with me? I think it’s high time for you and I to talk.”

Ruby glanced at the Team YRBN door. “Well…”

“Please, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said.

“Oh, okay,” Ruby said softly, understanding now that it wasn’t really a request. “Uh… lead the way, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin nodded. “Thank you, Miss Rose. This way please.”

He turned away, sipping his hot chocolate before he began to walk, moving down the corridor with a stride that was a little slow and a little unsure, as if he didn’t really know where he was going.

Ruby frowned a little. She had a feeling that she knew what Professor Ozpin wanted to talk to her about, but… oh, well. There wasn’t any getting around it, was there?

She cast one last glance at Yang’s door and told herself that she would tell Yang all about this as soon as she and the headmaster were done. And then she followed him.

---

Yang opened the door and stuck her head out of the corridor.

It was empty. And yet, she could have sworn that she’d heard someone – heard Ruby – outside.

“You guys heard that, right?” she asked, retreating back inside the dorm room.

Nora took off her headphones. “What was that? Did you say something, Yang?”

Yang shook her head, a smile playing across her face. “Okay, obviously you didn’t hear anything, but how about you, Ren?”

Ren looked up from his book. “It did sound like Ruby, and Blake.”

“I know, right?” Yang agreed. “That’s what I thought, but… they’re not here.”

“Perhaps they were simply passing by,” Ren suggested.

“Yeah, maybe,” Yang muttered. “It seems like they’ve been ‘passing by’ all day.”

She sat down heavily on her bed.

“You’re worried?” Nora asked.

“Not worried,” Yang replied. “Just… I don’t know, I just… I don’t know.” There was a feeling squirming in her stomach, a feeling that she couldn’t name but which was making her uneasy nonetheless. “Do you ever think you’ve seen something in the corner of your eye, and then you look and it’s not there? But you’re sure that you saw something? Well, it’s like that. There’s something going on, and I can’t see it.” She flopped backwards, her long hair spreading out like a golden halo around her head. “Or maybe I’m just imagining things. I hope I’m just imagining things.”

---

Professor Ozpin led Ruby to the Viewing Gallery, a stone courtyard set upon the cliff-edge – there were wrought-iron safety rails – with wooden benches where anyone could look out past the cliffs over the city of Vale spread out before them. The Atlesian warships, like flying sharks, hovered overhead, while the towers of the city reached up for them like so many arms outstretched, beseeching assistance.

Professor Ozpin sat down and took another sip of his hot chocolate. “Hmm, this is getting a little cold,” he murmured, and proceeded to take a much longer drink before he set the mug down at his side. “Please, Miss Rose, sit.” He smiled. “I promise I don’t bite.”

Ruby sat down on the other side of the bench, her hands clasped together, squeezed between her knees. She didn’t look at the headmaster.

“Are you upset?” she murmured.

“'Upset'?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“About the fact that I was about to tell Yang?” Ruby suggested. There was no doubt in her mind that Professor Ozpin knew what she had been about to do, just like she didn’t doubt that he knew what Sunset and Pyrrha had told her. “Or about the fact that Sunset and Pyrrha told me and Jaune?”

Professor Ozpin smiled. “No, Miss Rose, I am not upset. Certainly not at Miss Shimmer and Miss Nikos. The truth is that I rather hoped they would tell you and Mister Arc everything that they learned from me, and would have been rather disappointed if they had not.”

“Really?” Ruby asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Professor Ozpin confirmed. “Glynda – Professor Goodwitch, I should say – tells me that I’m too clever for my own good sometimes.” He leaned a little closer to Ruby, and his voice dropped as he confessed, “Between you and me, I fear she may be right.”

Ruby snorted, a smile pricking at the corners of her mouth.

Professor Ozpin smiled too, warm and genial. “Miss Rose, does it strike you as odd that I should approach Miss Shimmer and Miss Nikos, knowing that they would tell you and Mister Arc? Have you wondered why I chose your team, instead of going out to the best students in the academy?”

“Sunset would say that we are the best students in the academy.”

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “Yes, I’ve no doubt she would, but we are not speaking of Miss Shimmer now; I want to hear what Ruby Rose thinks about this.”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “It wasn’t just my mom, was it, Professor?”

“No,” Professor Ozpin admitted, his voice hoarse. “No, it was not. There was a time when all of Team Stark was at my disposal. Your father believed that his children deserved to have one parent at home with them; Raven Branwen… forsook the battle. Your uncle serves me still.”

“So you like to recruit teams,” Ruby said. “It’s not about how good the individual students are – although I guess they have to be okay – it’s about how well they work together as a team.”

“That is certainly a part of it, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin declared. “The truth is that my reasons for, as you put it, recruiting teams are much the same as my reasons for forming teams here at Beacon in the first place. Yes, the weaknesses can be compensated for by the synergy of the whole, but at the same time, the strength of the whole team can help to bear the kind of weight that would crush any single student. As I’m sure you understand by now, the burden that I have placed upon your shoulders – the burden of knowledge, the future burden of action – is a heavy one. If I must ask a child to bear it… I cannot ask them to do so without the support of those closest to them.” He paused for a moment. “I fear I place too much upon your uncle. He bears so many burdens, and alone.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t feel that way,” Ruby said. “Uncle Qrow can do anything; nothing gets to him.”

Professor Ozpin did not reply. Not to that, at least. He said, “What I must ask of you, Miss Rose, may be difficult.”

“You don’t want me to tell Yang,” Ruby murmured. “Do you, Professor?”

“Very perceptive, Miss Rose.”

“But why not?” Ruby asked.

“Why do you think I might not wish it, Miss Rose?”

“We’re not in class now, Professor,” Ruby pointed out.

“No,” Professor Ozpin allowed. “But we are in school. Indulge an old teacher, if you will.”

Ruby considered it for a moment. Teams, she thought, were the key. “Because you don’t want the rest of Team Iron to know?” she suggested.

“That is one reason, yes,” Professor Ozpin allowed.

“Why not?” Ruby asked. “Why does all this have to be kept a secret?”

“Should I not?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“Everyone already knows that this is a battle without end,” Ruby argued. “Fighting the grimm is something that won’t ever stop, and yet, here we are, ready to fight anyway. Nobody had turned away because of what we’re up against. Or, I mean, maybe some people have, but so many haven’t? What makes this any different?”

“Salemis different,” Professor Ozpin insisted. “Should I tell the world that there is a being of infinite malice, ageless, invincible, dwelling in the forgotten wilds beyond the kingdoms, plotting to bring ruin to us all? Should I tell the world that she will accept into her service all those who are discontented, all those who have hatred in their heart, all those who desire chaos and destruction for motives noble or foul? Think of Cinder Fall; I do not know how she found Salem or how Salem found her, but imagine how many other Cinders there might be in the world whom Salem has not found.”

“The White Fang,” Ruby murmured.

“Indeed,” Professor Ozpin said. “It is unfortunate, but our world is far from perfect, and there are many dwelling in these kingdoms who are desirous of a great change and willing to go to great lengths to achieve it. I should not like to give them all a banner around which to rally, especially when I fear that the numbers of her followers should be further swelled by those who fear that she would emerge victorious and sought her protection accordingly. And… and there is another reason why I fear to cast the net of my trust too widely-”

“Yang isn’t like Raven,” Ruby insisted. “She can be trusted.”

Professor Ozpin sighed. “I will not pretend this will be easy, Miss Rose; I will not pretend that I do not ask something of you; but nevertheless, I ask you to keep my confidence.”

“The same way you asked Sunset and Pyrrha not to tell?” Ruby asked.

Professor Ozpin smiled wryly. “Too clever for my own good, indeed.”

“Yang isn’t like the people you’re afraid of,” Ruby said quietly.

“I am sure that she is not, having Taiyang for a father and you for a sister,” Professor Ozpin said. “But I think you’ll agree that Miss Xiao Long has quite a lot to carry on her shoulders already.

That was true; as much as Ruby didn’t like the conclusion, she couldn’t deny how Professor Ozpin had gotten there. Yang thought that Ruby didn’t notice the way that her smiles didn’t always reach her eyes, the way that she looked tired sometimes, how much finding out about Raven still hurt her after all these years. Maybe it wasn’t fair to give her more troubles to contend with. Maybe it was for the best to keep this a secret from her, just as it was for the best that Professor Ozpin and the others kept it a secret from the rest of the world.

“Alright,” she said quietly. “Okay, Professor, I… I won’t tell.”

“Thank you, Ruby,” Professor Ozpin said solemnly. “I… I appreciate that.” He was silent for a moment, looking out across Vale and at the ships that hung above it. “Rather an eyesore, aren’t they?”

“The towers?”

“The warships,” Professor Ozpin corrected her gently.

Ruby cocked her head to one side. “I don’t know,” she replied. “From an engineering perspective, they’re really impressive.” She glanced at the headmaster. “You don’t like them?”

“They are symbols of war,” Professor Ozpin said, as though that explained his dislike. Ruby guessed that it did, as far as he was concerned. “Do you know, Miss Rose, that I have never known this kingdom at peace?”

“Because of Salem?”

Professor Ozpin nodded. “We have been at war since before this old body of mine was born. And yet, I have been able to look out across this beautiful view and pretend that we were living in the era of peace that is spoken of so much and enjoyed by so many. I cannot pretend any more. And yet… I wish I could.” He looked at her. “Do you understand?”

“That I’ll wish that I didn’t know all the things I do?” Ruby guessed.

“I fear so, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said. He paused. “Forgive me, I should not discourage you, certainly not when you have been so generous and so understanding. Especially not when I have not even asked you how you feel about all that you have so recently discovered.”

“I’m fine,” Ruby said. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“No?” Professor Ozpin asked, one eyebrow rising.

Ruby shook her head. “Like I said, I came here knowing that it would never end, so what real difference does it make?”

“You have a very brave heart, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said. “Just like your mother.”

Ruby felt her cheeks flush with pride, but at the same time, she looked away from the headmaster, feeling… embarrassed? No, she wasn’t embarrassed; she was just plain old nervous. Now that the subject had led in this direction, she felt as though the gate had opened before her, and yet, she trembled at the thought of stepping through it. She had so many questions, she hardly knew where to start. And yet, if she said nothing, then… then Professor Ozpin would get up or send her away, and she would miss a chance that might never come again.

“What was she like?” she asked, the words bursting quickly from her mouth, fear making her spit them out before she could think better of it or before this golden moment slipped away. “I… I don’t remember her very well. I barely remember anything. And Dad doesn’t talk about her because… because it still makes him too sad.” Ruby blinked. “Yang and Uncle Qrow tell me stories, or they used to, but I don’t know how much they made up to make me feel better.” She blinked again and realised that her eyes were filling up with tears. “I just want to know…”

She felt something pressed into her hands, an emerald green pocket handkerchief. Ruby looked up to see Professor Ozpin kneeling before her now, looking almost as though he might weep himself, his dark eyes seeming clouded with sorrow.

“Summer Rose,” he began, but then paused. “Very well, I will tell you the truth. Summer Rose was not the strongest huntress to study at Beacon. She was not even the strongest in her year, nor the cleverest, nor the swiftest. But she was the bravest and, in my opinion, the best. In all my years, I have met few others who were as driven as she was, as committed to the fight, as determined to help others in need as your mother. As headmaster, I try not to play favourites, but… but I consider it a privilege that I had the chance to know her.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “I suppose that sounds like nothing more than another comforting lie, such as your uncle or your sister might tell.”

“A little bit,” Ruby murmured.

Professor Ozpin nodded. “You must forgive us, Miss Rose; it is very hard to speak ill of the dead, especially when you loved them so. To speak of Summer’s flaws… would feel like a betrayal of her memory. If you wish for a candid opinion and account of her time, I suggest you ask Professor Goodwitch.”

“Because she doesn’t mind speaking ill of the dead?” Ruby asked, a little surprised.

“Professor Goodwitch has no fear speaking ill of anyone,” Professor Ozpin informed her.

Ruby sniggered as she wiped her eyes with the handkerchief. She offered it back to him, but Professor Ozpin waved it away.

“Keep it,” he told her. “I insist.”

“Thank you,” Ruby said softly. “Professor…”

Professor Ozpin rose to his feet. “Yes, Miss Rose?”

“I… I found my mom’s old diary,” Ruby confessed. “From when she was here.”

Professor Ozpin was still. “I see,” he murmured. “I take it that Miss Shimmer acquired it at the same time as she was busy pilfering Mister Arc’s transcripts.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “You knew?”

“I like to let my students get on with things absent too much interference,” Professor Ozpin said to her. “It helps me learn what kind of people they are.”

Ruby let out a sort of gasping laugh. “Can I ask… how did you get the diary?”

“Your mother gave it to me before she left on her final mission,” Professor Ozpin said. “She was afraid that, if it was left in your home, you might find out certain information before you were ready.”

“About Salem?” Ruby asked. “Or about silver eyes? I have that power too, don’t I?”

“The eyes do not lie,” Professor Ozpin said, his voice heavy with melancholy. “If you did not have the power, you would not have the eyes.”

“Can you help me use it?” Ruby asked. “Can you teach me how, like you taught Mom?”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “When you return from Mountain Glenn, Miss Rose, we will speak of your magic. You have my word. But now, I fear that I must be going. I have much other business to attend to before the day is out, and you have a mission to prepare for. Good day, Miss Rose.” He began to walk, with firmer and longer strides than he had used before, away from her and in the direction of the Emerald Tower.

“P-Professor?” Ruby called after him.

Professor Ozpin turned to face her, silently.

“Sunset… Sunset doesn’t trust you,” Ruby told him.

Professor Ozpin didn’t look in the slightest bit surprised. “And she is absolutely right not to, Miss Rose,” he said.

---

Ciel came to attention, eyes fixed on a point just above General Ironwood’s head, looking out the window in his office. “Ciel Soleil reporting as ordered, sir,” she said, her voice firm and calm and neither too loud nor too quiet. By her outer appearance and deportment, one would never know that she had recently received some incredibly shocking news.

Unfortunately, she suspected that General Ironwood knew anyway.

She did not look at him. She was not sure that… she would not be so melodramatic as to say ‘I cannot look at you’ like a character in some tawdry soap opera, but at the same time, if she were to look at him, what would she see? Not whom she had seen yesterday, unfortunately.

Yesterday, he had been the tower of their strength, the captain of their courage and constancy. Now… now, that was a mask that he wore to deceive the world.

You’re being rather ridiculous. He is still the man he was yesterday; you simply know more of him. Did you think you knew his every dimension, every facet?

Yes. Yes, she had thought that. She had flattered herself to think that. It had pleased her to believe that she was in his confidence, trusted by him with a mission he could entrust to few others.

Now, she discovered that it had not been so.

“At ease, Soleil,” General Ironwood instructed her, and Ciel did as she was bidden, standing at ease with a thump of her foot upon the deck as she clasped her hands behind her back.

She was not looking at the General, but she could feel his eyes upon her nevertheless.

“So,” General Ironwood said, “what do you think about all this?”

So I was right. Nevertheless, Ciel hesitated to drop Rainbow Dash and Twilight in it so completely. “I am uncertain as to what the General is referring.”

“Soleil,” General Ironwood said, a slight degree of exasperation entering his voice. “I know you know. You know I know you know. Dash and Twilight aren’t in any trouble for telling you. So drop it. And speak freely; I want to know what you really think.”

Ciel was silent for a moment. Speak freely? In order for her to speak she would first need to have her thoughts in order. “Sir… as you wish, sir, I shall speak freely.” She paused. “An argument could be made that your actions… that you have abused this army, sir.”

“Dramatic opening shot,” General Ironwood said softly.

“We are not mere huntsmen and huntresses, sir,” Ciel declared. “We are not a militia under your personal control, we are not some warlord’s warband, we are the embodiment of Atlas at war-”

“And you don’t think that Atlas is at war with Salem?” General Ironwood asked.

“I think that is for the elected Council to determine, sir, not the headmaster of Beacon Academy,” Ciel said in a tone as chill as the northern winter. “May I ask, sir, how many of your predecessors have been a party to this arrangement?”

“All of them,” General Ironwood said. “Somehow, I doubt that makes you feel better.”

“No, sir, it does not,” Ciel replied. “All our defences, all our strategies, everything is predicated upon the notion that the grimm are a mindless rabble, driven only by base instincts; now, I find that it is not so? It is… inefficient,” she said. “And more than inefficient, it is dangerous. How many men have died because they did not know what they were really fighting?”

“Too many,” General Ironwood admitted. “Fewer than might have died if the truth had come out.”

“You cannot know that, sir,” Ciel insisted.

“No,” General Ironwood replied candidly. “No, I can’t. But what we know suggests that there was a time when everything was a lot more widely known than it is now. The sources don’t paint a very pretty picture of that time.”

“Sources, sir?” Ciel asked. “Do you mean legends? Myths?”

“Some,” General Ironwood confirmed. “And some that are more prosaic, even if that doesn’t actually make them more trustworthy.”

“Is preventing the spread of panic really so vital that we will spend lives for it?”

“Sometimes, the grimm really are just mindless beasts driven by base instincts,” General Ironwood reminded her. “And they would be drawn to the panic that would ensue if all of this were to come out. We can debate whether or not it was the right decision at the time, but now… if it were to be revealed that these secrets had been kept from governments, from the public… chaos would ensue. Chaos that Salem would use to her advantage. Along with every other enemy that we have to contend with.”

“Nevertheless, sir, I feel as though soldiers being sent to fight and risk their lives have a right to know what they are fighting and in what cause.”

“Every man knows what cause they are fighting for,” General Ironwood declared. “They’re fighting for life, for Atlas, for humanity itself. For the pride of their ship and their unit. None of that has changed.”

“I beg to differ, sir,” Ciel said. “When we operated against Roman Torchwick and the White Fang, we also operated against Salem and we knew it not.”

“Would you have done anything differently if you had known?” General Ironwood asked.

Ciel glanced away for a moment. When her voice came, it was afflicted with a degree of chagrin. “No, sir.”

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. “For what it might be worth, I’m not blind to your concerns. I may even have voiced similar ones myself when I found out about this. The ethics of my position as an officer are… murky, I confess. I think that’s one of the reasons why Oz doesn’t like using Atlesian specialists as agents; the divided loyalties make him uncomfortable. He prefers… mere huntsmen and huntresses.”

“I would ask why he has broken a custom with us, sir, but the more pertinent question would seem to be why he has included you and your predecessors within the circle of trust.”

“I’m afraid that I can’t give you all the information needed to answer that question, Soleil,” General Ironwood replied. “Suffice it to say that, from the founding of the four academies, it has been a custom that all four of their headmasters should have knowledge of the secret war that rages in the shadows of the world.”

Ciel’s brow furrowed. “Sir… how do you serve two masters? How should we?”

“It’s a fine line,” General Ironwood admitted. “One that I am forced to navigate with care. I hope that my word still counts with enough that you’ll believe me when I tell you that I have never deployed any of my forces on… Salem business unless they knew about it.”

“The fleet, sir?” Ciel asked, looking at elements of said fleet out of the window.

“Salem or no Salem, the threat of the White Fang is what brought those ships and men here,” General Ironwood said. “Against Ozpin’s wishes, I might add. The same goes for your own mission against the White Fang.”

“That seems a rather semantic argument, sir.”

“Sometimes, semantics are all I have to maintain the wall between my different duties,” General Ironwood confessed. “I didn’t say it was always easy.”

“I see, sir,” Ciel said softly.

“If this is going to be too hard for you, Soleil, then say so now,” General Ironwood told her. “Nobody will fault you if you walk away. You wouldn’t be the first to respectfully decline.”

“And sit out missions related to Salem business?” Ciel asked. “No, sir. I have my misgivings, I admit, but having voiced them, I will, like a good soldier, put them aside. I will not have it said that I was afraid but that I hid my fear behind legalese and questions of conscience.”

General Ironwood nodded. “Putting aside all questions of conscience, what do you think about what you’ve found out?”

“'And I looked out and saw the invisible world, companion to the world which we perceive, with its rocks and moon and brute animals,'” Ciel quoted. “I feel as though the Lady has opened my eyes, and for that… the gift of knowledge is never to be scorned. Only the foolish and the weak wish for ignorance.” She paused. “It is a pity we cannot overcome our foe with strength of arms, sir, but since it seems that this being considers it beneath her dignity to venture forth upon the field of battle, it appears that our strength is capable of denying victory to her catspaws.”

“True,” General Ironwood acknowledged. “And that’s enough.”

“It will suffice, sir,” Ciel said. “Although…”

General Ironwood leaned forward. “Although what, Soleil?”

“It may have been so in the past, that she was immune to the weapons that we possess,” Ciel said. “It may even be so now. It does not follow it will always be so. Science and technology are advancing all the time, especially in Atlas. What was once invulnerable may not be so forever.”

General Ironwood smiled. “Very true, Soleil. That may not do us much good, but those who come after us may benefit, and that itself is a comforting thought. I’m glad to have you onboard, Soleil.”

“I am not certain that I can say the same, sir, but I am… I am honoured by your trust.”

“At last, you mean?”

Ciel hesitated. “I am aware of the irony that I only realise that I did not enjoy your complete confidence because I have come to enjoy a much greater degree of it, but…”

“I trust you with this knowledge – I trust you to act based on this knowledge – for the same reasons that I trusted you with Penny,” General Ironwood declared. “Because your intelligence – your devotion to duty – make you not only a model student but also an exemplary soldier of Atlas. And, quite frankly, we need someone with qualms of conscience about this, someone to ask if this is the right thing to do instead of just blindly doing it. Did it take a lot of guts to accuse me of abusing the military?”

“…some, sir.”

“But you said it anyway,” General Ironwood said, a touch of pride entering his voice. “And that’s why you’re here.”

“I… thank you, sir.”

“One last thing,” General Ironwood asked. “How did Penny take all of this?”

Ciel considered that for a moment. “Not particularly well, sir,” she said, as diplomatically as possible.

“I see,” General Ironwood. “I suppose I’ll find out for myself soon enough. Send her in on your way out.”

---

Penny slouched into General Ironwood’s office, head bowed, arms hanging uselessly down by her sides.

Useless… like she felt at the moment.

She didn’t look up. She didn’t look at General Ironwood; she certainly didn’t smile. He had lied to her. They had all lied to her, whether they meant to or not.

Worse, Penny thought that they were probably going to keep lying to her, and mean it too, and it wouldn’t bother them at all.

Because they weren’t her friends. They were her minders; they spent time with her because they were ordered to, and maybe they cared about her a little bit, but they would lie to her if they were ordered to, just like they would have dragged her back to Atlas if they were ordered to, because any feelings that they had for her would always come second to their duty, or their real friends, or just what General Ironwood wanted.

Her real friends, the ones she’d made at Beacon, were the only people she could really trust.

Ruby would never lie to her, no matter who told her to, not even if Sunset Shimmer ordered it.

Everything that she had thought she’d known about why she’d been created was a lie.

She didn’t even know why they’d bothered to make her in the first place.

“Penny,” General Ironwood said.

“General,” Penny replied sullenly.

“I see you’ve mastered acting like a surly teenager,” General Ironwood replied amusedly. “You become more human every day.”

“It’s not funny!” Penny snapped, raising her head to glare at him. Or try to glare at him; she’d never really tried to glare before and probably wasn’t very good at it. “How could you? You lied to me!”

“How?” General Ironwood asked.

“'How'?” Penny repeated.

“How did I lie to you?” General Ironwood clarified.

“You’ve been lying to everyone!” Penny cried. “But most of all, you lied to me because you told me that I could save the world! You told me that was what I was created for! You made me think…” She trailed off.

General Ironwood looked at her, silent, waiting.

Penny looked down at the floor. She could still see the dent she’d made the last time she was here. “You made me think I was special.”

“You are special, Penny,” General Ironwood told her. “The unique circumstances of your creation make you a marvel of science. Nobody else would be able to control Floating Array the way that you can, and in time, you’ll be able to do so much more than that: operate a whole squadron or more of drones remotely, direct paladins, deploy even more powerful weapons than you currently have access to. Some day, you might even be able to protect a whole city by yourself. So what I told you was true, from a certain point of view.”

“A certain point of view?” Penny demanded. “That’s not what I thought you meant!”

“What did you think I meant, Penny?”

“I thought that I was going to hunt down every last grimm,” Penny said. “And destroy them.”

“Nobody expects that of you, Penny, not even your father,” General Ironwood replied. He got up. “Perhaps… we did raise your hopes too far, or put too great an expectation on your shoulders, depending on your point of view. I suppose that ‘save the world’ was… a figure of speech, somewhat. I should have known better than to speak so carelessly in front of you.”

“Why did you make me?” Penny asked, her voice small and childlike. “If you knew that I could never defeat Salem-”

“If Professor Ozpin is to be believed, then nobody can beat Salem, and yet, the four academies continue to admit students into their halls as they have always done, despite the fact that none of them could ever defeat Salem,” General Ironwood reminded her. He walked around the desk, coming closer to her, close enough to put his hand upon her shoulder. “I truly believe that you will do great service to Atlas, and to Remnant, service perhaps worthy to be called a saviour of the world.” He smiled fondly. “And who knows, perhaps you will find a way to defeat Salem, and defy Professor Ozpin and his expectations.”

Penny blinked. “But I thought there was no way to defeat her. Everyone said she was invincible!”

“She appears that way,” General Ironwood conceded. “But Penny, you know that you will live longer than any of us.” He retreated back to his desk, although not behind it; rather he stood in front of it and looked down at Penny. “Your body will not decay as ours will, weaken with the passage of years, succumb to age or illness. I’m more machine than man now, but I won’t be here forever; there will come a time when Dash and Ciel are too old to carry on the fight, and a time after that when they’re both dead and gone, but you’ll still be here. Barring accidents, and provided that the facility exists for the maintenance and replacement of your component parts, I don’t think it’s any exaggeration to say that you’ll live forever, and the purpose of your training is to ensure that you don’t suffer any accidents. You won’t have to be told about Salem; you won’t have to be brought into the circle and suffer the shock with each generation-”

“I’ll be all alone,” Penny murmured.

She hadn’t ever thought about it like that before, but now that General Ironwood had said it… she would just keep going, wouldn’t she? Everyone around her would die, but she’d just keep going. Ruby and Pyrrha and all the rest would disappear while she kept marching on. Maybe she’d make new friends, but then, they’d die too, and she’d have to make whole new ones. She might not have to learn about Salem every generation, but she’d have to keep on making new friends, forging new bonds, finding new people she could trust and open up her heart too, until maybe there would come a point when she didn’t want to anymore, when she feared the pain of loss too much to want the joy of friendship.

General Ironwood frowned. “I’m sorry, Penny,” he said. “That was… I didn’t think about it that way. What I was trying to say was that, with the advantage of longevity, you might find a way to defeat her that no one else has thought of yet, or be around for the development of technology and weapons that can finally finish her. I meant that to give you hope, but now, I’m not sure how much that really helps.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before,” Penny said. “I suppose… I suppose I didn’t want to think about it before.”

“You’re still very young to think about how you might live forever,” General Ironwood told her.

“How does she stand it?” Penny asked.

“Who?”

“Salem,” Penny explained. “If she’s immortal, then… then she must have lost everyone that she’s ever known, too!”

“I doubt that she cares,” General Ironwood said. “She’s a monster bent on our destruction. I doubt she ever had many friends,” he added, as though he were trying to joke.

“That’s pretty awful too,” Penny said. “I wonder if she gets lonely.”

“Maybe one day you can ask her, before you put her out of her misery,” General Ironwood muttered. “Penny, regardless of whether you think I’ve lied to you in the past, I’ll be honest with you now: we could really use your help in this fight. Your power, your potential, the advantages of your unique nature, they could all be an enormous boon in the fight for humanity. But in this matter, I’m not your headmaster or your commanding officer. I can’t order you to take this step. You have to take it for yourself.”

Penny was silent for a moment. “No one will ever know what I’ve done, will they?” she asked. “Even if I save the world from Salem, nobody will ever know that I did it.”

“No one,” General Ironwood confirmed. “It will be the greatest deed in the history of Remnant, and it will pass unnoticed and unremembered.”

Penny nodded absently. It was kind of funny, after wanting to do something great and important that would get her noticed, it seemed like she was being given the choice of one or the other.

“But Ruby and the others will know if I don’t do this,” she murmured.

“Are you doing this because you’d be ashamed not to?” General Ironwood said.

“Why not?” Penny asked. “Isn’t that as good a reason as any?” After all, most people might not know if she did anything amazing in this fight, but a few people – a few people whose opinion mattered to her a lot – would definitely know if she turned away from the fight.

Her friends would die before she did. Sooner or later, they would leave her behind. But until then, she would keep marching right beside them, for as long as she could.

---

Jaune was about to leave the empty classroom when he found the doorway barred by the headmaster.

“Professor Ozpin!” Jaune cried, recoiling a step backwards. “I was just, uh-”

“The classroom appears to be intact, so as long as you weren’t stealing the answers for end of year exams, I don’t think I need to know what you were doing here, Mister Arc,” Professor Ozpin declared genially, as he stepped into the room. “I am glad to find you here, however; I was hoping that we might talk.”

“'Talk'?” Jaune asked, taking another step back away from the headmaster. “Talk about what, Professor?”

“Mister Arc,” Professor Ozpin declared reproachfully, “I chose Team Sapphire in no small part because of the close bonds which I have observed amongst the four of you.”

Jaune hesitated. “You know we know, don’t you?”

Professor Ozpin smiled slightly. “Indeed, Mister Arc,” he replied. The smile fell. “At this point, I should like to dazzle you with a pretence of omniscience, but recent events have rather shown the hollowness of that, haven’t they?” He walked to Doctor Oobleck’s desk and sat down upon it, pushing a few scattered papers out of the way in order to make space for himself. A sigh escaped him. “She was able to place her agent within the school itself. Under my very nose. How foolish she must think me. How foolish I have been.”

Jaune didn’t say anything. If Professor Ozpin was looking for comfort, then he wasn’t sure that he had any to offer. Nothing of what Professor Ozpin had said was false: Cinder had gotten in, under his very nose. If that was a mistake, then, well, it was Professor Ozpin’s mistake, although it was also a lot of other people’s mistakes as well. Not least Sunset. That gave him something to say.

“A lot of people besides you were taken in by Cinder, Professor.”

“Indeed,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “Please, Mister Arc, sit down.”

Jaune hesitated, but decided that if he wanted to, the Professor could just order him to stick around, and so he matched Professor Ozpin’s choice of seat by perching himself on one of the desks of the front row of the gallery. It made him feel a little less like he was getting a lecture than if he’d taken one of the actual chairs.

“I spoke to Professor Lionheart,” Professor Ozpin said. “He claimed ignorance of Miss Fall’s true nature. He claimed that he had seized upon her eagerly as a talented huntress who would restore Haven’s reputation by a bravura performance in the Vytal Festival.”

“Do you believe him, Professor?” Jaune asked.

“Professor Lionheart is a trusted friend and colleague,” Professor Ozpin replied. “I have worked alongside him for many years, and he is fully aware of what Salem is capable of.”

Jaune’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not quite a ‘yes,’ Professor,” he said.

“No, Mister Arc, it is not,” Professor Ozpin said, with no indication that he was going to say anything else upon that particular subject. Instead, he asked, “What was your opinion of Cinder Fall?”

Jaune took a moment to think about that. “I… I didn’t like her,” he said. “I didn’t trust her.”

“Why not?” Professor Ozpin asked.

Jaune shrugged. “Something about her, she was just… she was so smug, you know? Like she knew something you didn’t.” He paused. “I didn’t like the way Sunset acted around her.”

Professor Ozpin did not reply. He waited, and Jaune realised that he was waiting for Jaune to continue.

He frowned. “I don’t know how much I should say,” he began.

“If you are worried about getting Miss Shimmer into trouble, nothing that you say here will leave this room or have any ramifications,” Professor Ozpin assured him. “And besides, I think I can guess what you are going to mention.”

“I don’t think Sunset would have done it if Cinder wasn’t around,” Jaune said. “If she’d talked to Pyrrha, or to Ruby, then they would have told her to let it go, to be better than that, but Cinder… it was like she enabled all of the worst parts of Sunset, made Sunset bad just by being around her. I’m not saying that Sunset wasn’t at fault for what she did, but Cinder was definitely a bad influence.”

“Indeed,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “Miss Shimmer didn’t mention Miss Fall at all when she confessed her actions to me.”

“She wouldn’t,” Jaune replied. “First, because she has too much pride to admit that someone else had anything to do with what she said, and secondly, because she wouldn’t drop a friend into trouble like that. Unlike me, apparently.”

“There is nothing to be ashamed of in your honesty, Mister Arc,” Professor Ozpin said. “We are not dealing with mere – if I may be permitted to use the word – issues of school rules and detentions any more. I need to know everything that I can.”

“Do you still trust Sunset?” Jaune asked. “After what I’ve just told you?”

“I don’t completely trust any of you yet, Mister Arc,” Professor Ozpin said. “And I am still not sure if I ever will.”

“Right,” Jaune murmured. “I see.”

“But don’t let that trouble you, Mister Arc,” Professor Ozpin said genially. “I’m sure you can appreciate that, in my position, I have good reasons to withhold my trust.”

“You don’t seem to, Professor,” Jaune pointed out. “You seem to trust everyone. Believe in everyone. But I guess that’s just an act, like Cinder’s friendliness.”

“Are you so sure of that, Mister Arc?” Professor Ozpin asked. “So sure that Miss Fall was feigning her behaviour here?”

“Wasn’t she?” Jaune replied. “I mean, she was working for someone trying to destroy the world!”

“And yet, she is still human,” Professor Ozpin pointed out. “Subject to human emotions, human frailties, human wants and needs, not least of which is the desire for the company of other humans. We fight monsters, Mister Arc, but unfortunately, we do not exclusively fight monsters. Things might be far easier if it were so.”

“Yeah,” Jaune whispered, remembering the White Fang guy he had killed on the train. “Yeah, that would definitely be a lot easier.”

Professor Ozpin watched him for a moment. “How are you taking it, Mister Arc?”

Jaune did not immediately reply. “What do you want me to say, Professor? Do you want me to say that I’m fine, that it’s all good, that it doesn’t make any difference to me?”

“I want you to tell me the truth,” Professor Ozpin said softly.

“The truth is that I’m not Ruby,” Jaune declared. “I’m not Pyrrha. I don’t… I’m not the person who gives up everything for the good of humanity. I’m not the person who can face any danger knowing that they’re helping others. I… I’m scared, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin did not reply. He merely watched and waited.

“Professor Ozpin,” Jaune murmured. “Did you know my father?”

Professor Ozpin said, “I will not claim that we had a relationship closer than that between headmaster and pupil, which is to say that we rarely interacted, but I recall Gold Arc, yes.”

“Was he any good?” Jaune asked.

If Professor Ozpin was at all curious as to the relevance of this, he did not show it. He answered Jaune’s question, “He was tolerable, to be sure, a fair huntsman. In comparative terms, I would put him-”

“Was he better than me?”

Professor Ozpin thought on that for a moment. “He did not have your semblance or the benefit of Miss Nikos’ tuition, but… yes, Mister Arc, I would say that he was.”

“And yet you didn’t invite him to join your secret group, did you?”

“No, Mister Arc, I did not.”

“And you wouldn’t have invited me either,” Jaune said. “I just… come with the package.” He smiled wanly. “You don’t have to lie to me, Professor; you won’t hurt my feelings.”

“It is true that I would not have sought out your services, had you been on a different team,” Professor Ozpin conceded. “But there is no shame in that. I have not sought out Miss Xiao Long or Miss Schnee, but that is no slight upon their talents.” He was quiet for a moment. “No one is forced to take this step, Mister Arc.”

“I am,” Jaune declared. “Because I may not be Ruby, and I may not be Pyrrha, and I may not even be Sunset to put it all out on the line out of sheer pride and the need to live up to my own grandiose self-image, but I am Jaune Arc!” He held up his hand and activated his semblance for the moment, letting the golden glow engulf said hand, shimmering like water over his skin. “I’m the one who makes them stronger. I’m the one who is there for them, if they need me. That’s who I am. And if I die in Mountain Glenn, that’s who I’ll die as, and that… I can imagine a lot worse.”

“Is that what you fear?” Professor Ozpin asked. “Death?”

Jaune shook his head. “Like I said, Professor, I can imagine worse,” he paused. “I’m afraid that I won’t die if…”

“If they do?” Professor Ozpin whispered.

Jaune nodded mutely.

Professor Ozpin said nothing. He offered Jaune no comfort. Perhaps he had none to give. Or perhaps he sensed that Jaune wasn’t done yet.

“I asked Pyrrha for a promise today,” Jaune said. “I asked her to promise that she wouldn’t send me away because that… that terrifies me, the idea that she’ll leave me behind and run into some desperate battle because she thinks that I can’t handle it, that I’m too weak to keep up, that I can’t help her. That it’s all too dangerous for me. I asked her to promise that she wouldn’t do that because… because I don’t want the last time I see her to be her back as she leaves to fight the battles that I can’t. Like I said, it terrifies me. But at the same time… at the same time, the thought of Pyrrha dying to protect me, it… it’s like the rock and the hard place, you know?”

“It is a terrible thing to love,” Professor Ozpin mused. “It leaves us vulnerable to so much pain, so much fear, so much… weakness. And yet, it is also the most wonderful thing for which the gods have fashioned us, for it makes us capable of such things as we would never otherwise have contemplated. Like vowing to do battle against the mistress of the grimm, oppose her designs and confound her schemes, all for the sake of those we cherish.” He smiled. “Take comfort, Mister Arc; true courage can only come from a fearful heart. It takes more valour to walk into darkness with a timid step, knowing that the path ahead is full of deadly perils, fully conscious of your own limitations, than to stride forth full of confidence in your own skill and power, believing that there is nothing that can harm you… or not caring if it does.”

“Professor?”

“Nothing, Mister Arc,” Professor Ozpin said quickly. “You are resolved, then?”

“I… I guess I am, yeah.”

Professor Ozpin nodded, and got to his feet. “You are correct to say that in another lifetime, I might not have chosen you, Mister Arc,” he said, “but I am open, welcome even, to the possibility that my other self might have been completely mistaken.”

---

“Thank you for coming, Twilight,” General Ironwood said as she walked into his office.

Twilight smiled. “Did I have a choice, sir?” she asked, but her tone showed there was no malice in the question. She looked at him square in the face; in spite of what she had learned today, he was still the same man that she had known since she was a little girl: her father’s old friend, the frequent dinner guest, Rainbow’s mentor, Penny’s sponsor, he was still all those things. He was just more than that now. More than she could have imagined.

General Ironwood smiled. “How are you feeling?”

“About last night or about this morning?” Twilight asked.

“Whichever you’d rather start with,” General Ironwood replied.

“There’s more to talk about with the second one,” Twilight said. “Last night… it just confirms that I don’t really belong here.”

General Ironwood looked down at his desk. “I shouldn’t have taken this approach,” he murmured. “I’ve put you in danger more than once.”

“It’s not your fault, sir,” Twilight said. “You didn’t know how bad things were going to get.”

“I should have pulled you out at the end of last semester when it became clear the White Fang were on the rampage,” General Ironwood said.

“And how would you have explained that?” Twilight asked. “And what about Penny entering the Vytal Festival? No, sir, all I’m saying is that there’s no doubt in my mind that I’m making the right choice by not going to Mountain Glenn; I never meant to criticise you for your decisions.”

General Ironwood nodded. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re making the right decision. I think that your plan to support from the rear is a sound one.”

“Thank you, sir, although the more I think about it, the more it feels a little rough on Team Tsunami that they have to spend their mission slot babysitting me.”

“They’re also providing a necessary reserve for a crucial mission,” General Ironwood pointed out. “Tell them that, if it makes them feel any better. And don’t tell them anything else,” he added pointedly. “Telling Ciel and Penny was fine, but nothing further. Operational security applies beyond that point, understood?”

Twilight nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll just tell them that we’re after the White Fang. Which we are, so it isn’t even really lying, is it?”

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. “I would like to believe that’s true,” he murmured. “So, how are you feeling about all this?”

“How are you feeling about it all, sir?” Twilight asked. “You’re the one who's had to live with it for… years?”

“Years, yes,” General Ironwood confirmed. “Years to make my peace with it.”

“How do you make peace with something like this, sir?” Twilight asked. “It seems like the kind of thing that keeps coming up over and over again.”

“Nevertheless, if I couldn’t learn to live with it, I couldn’t continue to carry out my duties,” General Ironwood said. “Fortunately, most of the time, it doesn’t come up. It’s not like I have to lie or even dissemble every day.”

“But you’re always carrying around the secret, right?” Twilight asked. “You never get to put it down or put it away?” She pushed her glasses back up her nose. “That’s… that’s what worries me,” she said. “That wherever I go, whatever I do, I’ll always have this secret, this huge thing that I know, but which most of my friends don’t. This thing that I can’t ever share with them.”

“It’s for the best that they don’t know,” General Ironwood said.

“Is it?” Twilight asked. “I mean… I understand why, sir, and you’re probably right. If people found out about the relics, then they’d want them, and if people found out about Salem, then they might freak out, but… it feels very controlling, deciding what information people can and can’t handle. Sorry, sir, I’m rambling.”

“No, Twilight, you’re telling me how you feel,” General Ironwood said. “As for your point… maybe you’re right. Maybe it is paternalistic on our parts, but that doesn’t make it wrong or even a negative. Parents have power over their children for a reason; parents don’t tell their children everything for a reason.”

“But we aren’t talking about children, sir; we’re talking about adults,” Twilight pointed out.

“Adults who would have as little idea what to do with the power of one of the relics as a child would know how to safely use a gun if you gave them one,” General Ironwood replied.

“But you know what to do with them, sir?” Twilight said.

“No,” General Ironwood replied. “I’ve never even seen any of the four relics, let alone used it.”

Twilight frowned. “Has anyone?”

“Alive?” General Ironwood asked. “Not to my knowledge.”

“Then how do you know they really exist?” Twilight asked. “I mean, the legends, yes, but how do you know that they’re really relics from the gods?”

“Because there wouldn’t be much point in establishing and maintaining a secret society to protect items that didn’t really exist, would there?” General Ironwood replied. “Because I know the location of one of the relics, even though I haven’t seen the item itself. And I suppose I have a little faith. People that I trusted passed these truths to me.”

“I’m sorry, sir; I didn’t mean to suggest-”

“It’s fine,” General Ironwood said, waving one hand. “It’s a fair question, in the circumstances. Any others?”

Twilight thought for a moment. “Does my father know about this? He was your XO, and-”

“No,” General Ironwood answered her. “No, it doesn’t work like that. Your father was never chosen by Professor Ozpin. Ultimately, all decisions about who finds out what rest with him.”

“Why is that, sir?” Twilight asked. “Why is he the one in charge? Is it just age?”

“The means by which the leadership of the group is decided are… complicated,” General Ironwood said. “Suffice it to say for now that the Headmaster of Beacon enjoys a degree of seniority by virtue of their position.”

That didn’t really answer much; it just shifted the question from ‘why Professor Ozpin’ to ‘why Beacon?’ Atlas didn’t usually place its forces under the command of outsiders. “Does anyone else know, sir?”

“It’s a very small organisation, and somewhat compartmentalised,” General Ironwood informed her. “For example, beyond Headmaster Theodore in Shade, I’m not aware of who in Vacuo might be aware of these truths.”

“So… there aren’t any regular club meetings,” Twilight said.

“No, Twilight, nothing like that,” General Ironwood said, a touch of amusement entering his voice. “And considering some of the people who’d be there, that’s probably a good thing,” he muttered, as much to himself as to Twilight. He paused. “Professor Ozpin, Professor Goodwitch, and myself, you already know. Headmaster Theodore of Shade and Headmaster Lionheart of Haven are also included, as the four headmasters always are.”

“Even though Headmaster Lionheart let Cinder into his school,” Twilight noted.

“Hmm,” General Ironwood murmured. “I have a job for you, Twilight, if you’re up for it. Not something for today – right now I want you to focus on preparations for tomorrow’s mission – but once that’s all wrapped up, I’d like you to try and dig into Lionheart’s financial records, see if he’s come into any money recently.”

Twilight frowned. “You think that Salem paid him to let Cinder into his school?”

“If he did sell us out, I’d rather he did it for money than because he believes in Salem’s cause,” General Ironwood said. “It might be nothing; it might be that he didn’t sell us out, and he’s just…”

“Hideously incompetent?” Twilight suggested.

“Mhmm,” General Ironwood muttered. “Not a great improvement, but we’ll take what we can get, I suppose.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna are both aware.”

“Really?” Twilight gasped. “The Principal and the Vice Principal know all about… all of this?”

General Ironwood noted.

“Huh,” Twilight muttered. “I guess it isn’t very onerous for some people, is it?” It didn’t seem to have affected their work at Canterlot at all.

“That’s how this works, Twilight,” General Ironwood told her. “Most of the time, you just live your life, work as normal. It’s only occasionally that you’ll be asked to do a little more than that.”

“I see, sir,” Twilight said. “Sir, can I ask one more question? You… you know about my accident, when I was a child? You know what I saw.”

General Ironwood nodded. “You’ve told me.”

“Everyone says that I had a concussion, that I imagined it, but I didn’t,” Twilight insisted. “I’m sure I didn’t. Do you know anything about that, sir? Anything at all? I mean, if magic exists, then-”

“I don’t know,” General Ironwood said, cutting her off. “Maybe you’re right; maybe if the relics exist, then there are… other powers, besides. But I don’t know what they are, and I certainly can’t say what happened to you on the road that day.”

It was the first time in the conversation that Twilight had the impression that General Ironwood was lying to her. Maybe it was not so; maybe he was simply being lied to by Professor Ozpin – who probably knew something, given the similarity of the woman described in Ruby’s mother’s diary to the woman that Twilight remembered, at least in terms of what they could do – but Twilight had the sneaking, somewhat sinking, suspicion that that was not the case.

General Ironwood knew something, and he was lying to her about it.

She would just have to trust that he was lying to her for a good reason.

---

Pyrrha’s steps were slow as she walked into Professor Ozpin’s office, her light steps forming a counterpoint to the dull grinding of the gears above her. She stepped through the shifting shadows towards the headmaster’s desk, behind which Professor Ozpin sat, pouring himself a cup of chocolate from a white enamel teapot.

“May I offer you a cup, Miss Nikos?” he asked, as she drew near.

“No, thank you, Professor,” Pyrrha said, glancing at the chessboard which was sitting at the edge of the desk. It was half-set for a game, although some of the pieces were still in the box and not on the board. “Are you expecting to play later?”

“Yes,” Professor Ozpin said. “My opponent will be arriving shortly after we’re finished.”

“I’ll try not to take up too much of your time then, Professor.”

“Not what I meant at all, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin replied apologetically. “Please, take a seat.”

Pyrrha sat down, back straight, fingertips resting lightly upon her knees. She looked Professor Ozpin in the eyes. Headmaster. Commander. Knowledge broker. Defender of the world in ways that she had not conceived of.

So much more than what he seemed, in every sense.

Professor Ozpin took a sip from his mug. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “I suppose it must be rather inconvenient that I keep dragging you up here. This is… the third time today?”

“It’s fine, Professor,” Pyrrha assured him. “Although I am a little curious as to what you want.”

“Now that you’ve had a chance to think about what I told you earlier, and confer with your teammates – yes, I know, Miss Nikos, and don’t worry, I’m not upset; quite the contrary, in fact – I was hoping to find out what you think about all of this, having had time to reflect upon it.”

Pyrrha looked down, towards her hands. “I feel… Professor, I am… surprised by what I feel.”

Professor Ozpin leaned forward, resting his chin upon his hands.

“I have always,” Pyrrha continued, “as vain or egotistical as it may seem-”

“I run a school for young adults, Miss Nikos; there is nothing about vanity and ego that I have not witnessed in my time here,” Professor Ozpin assured her. “Nothing that you have to say upon the subject will be extraordinary to me, and none of it will leave here.”

“Thank you, Professor, although my friends know of it already,” Pyrrha informed him. “I’ve always thought that I was… fashioned for something great. Something tremendous, a great good for humanity, for the world. Perhaps even its… salvation. And yet, now… it strikes me that I ought to feel as though my hour has come, that the great trial I have spent my life preparing for has finally arrived… but I do not.”

Professor Ozpin let that hang in the air for a moment. “And why do you think that is, Miss Nikos?” he asked.

“I… I’m not sure, Professor,” Pyrrha confessed. “It might have something to do with…” She trailed off, not sure of how to phrase it. “I must confess, Professor, that I cannot think of any hero who faced a trial quite like this.”

Professor Ozpin smiled a little. “The heroes who faced this particular trial before this are not remembered, but that does not make them any less heroic.”

“I did not mean to suggest otherwise, Professor,” Pyrrha said quickly. “I just meant… rarely is a tale told of a hero who set forth upon a quest that they could not complete, marched towards a battle they knew could not be won.”

Actually, that was not quite true; there were several examples of the latter, most notably the tale of the Seven Against Mistral: Antigone had known that her assault was doomed from the start, having received the prophecy of her defeat and death from her blind father, but she had marched anyway out of stubborn pride. But that was a tragedy, not a heroic tale, and even Antigone had known that if the word had spread amongst her six champions, they would have refused to go on with her.

And Antigone had died, and so had the heroes who marched with her, and her own sister Ismene besides. The stories of those who defied inevitable fate had similar grim ends.

Perhaps that was a part of where her misgivings came from.

“Once again, Miss Nikos, I remind you that not all heroes are celebrated in the tales of old Mistral,” Professor Ozpin murmured.

“But heroes that are not known, though they be greater by ten times than those whose stories are remembered, cannot teach us how we might conduct ourselves in perilous times,” Pyrrha replied. “We cannot look to those we do not know for inspiration. That is part of why we tell such stories: yes, they glorify our people, and for those like myself who are fortunate enough to claim descent from storied figures, we are… aggrandised by the connection. But we also tell such stories that we may learn from them. From my namesake ransoming the body of Camilla, we learn to be lordly and generous, even to our enemies; from Eteocles, we learn devotion to our family, while from Creusa, we learn conversely that we may defy our parents if they set their faces against honourable conduct. From the stories that we tell do we learn how to live a just and upright and a noble life, and yet… I know not what story I should turn to inspire me in this moment. All the tales that relate to my situation would have me put on grim resignation as I approach… as I approach my inevitable death.”

“Death is inevitable for all of us, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin reminded her. “But I sincerely hope it will not come for you for many decades yet.” He smiled. “If you do not live to be at least as old as I am, then as your teacher, I will be very disappointed.”

Pyrrha snorted. “You probably think that I’m absurd, Professor, don’t you?”

Professor Ozpin shook his head. “I think that you have had a great burden placed upon your shoulders, Miss Nikos; I am sorry that it had to come so soon. Believe me, although I must confess I have had my eye on you since you arrived here at Beacon, I would have much preferred to have waited until after you had graduated. Sadly, events have forced my hand. Salem is on the move, and we must respond.” He frowned and sipped some more of his chocolate. “I must respond,” he corrected himself. “I am sure that General Ironwood, too, feels he must respond; he seems to feel that he must respond to a great many things, though they occur far away from Atlas and are, strictly speaking, none of his business.” He drank some more of his hot chocolate. “But you, Miss Nikos, you are under no such obligations.”

Pyrrha frowned. “Professor,” she said, “I may not be able to think of a hero of old who faced a situation quite like this, but I can think of many whose example teaches me that I cannot turn away from this.”

“Only if you are determined to prove a hero, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin noted.

“Perhaps, Professor,” Pyrrha acknowledged. “But the time to turn away from that would have been before I came to Beacon. For what did I come here except to… to prove a hero?”

That was a rather disingenuous question, of course. If heroism or even service had been all there was to it, she would have accepted Terri-Belle’s offer without hesitation and perhaps have been, even now, a huntress and a member of the Imperial Guard. She had wished to stay at Beacon, been glad when the offer was withdrawn, because… because she had wanted to be free for a little while longer.

It seemed that freedom was to be denied to her now. She could not find an excuse for dithering a second time, especially not when it seemed as though she was being sent a message by forces greater than herself that she was not meant to enjoy the four years of student anonymity that she had sought. And yet, the knowledge, the memory, pricked at her.

“Professor,” she said. “Before… before you rely too much upon me, I feel as if there is something you should know.”

“Miss Nikos?”

“I had the chance to become a huntress during the spring break,” she told him. “Lady Terri-Belle Thrax, Warden of the White Tower and firstborn daughter of the Steward, offered to make me a huntress and commission me into the Imperial Guard of Mistral. She even offered to name me as her successor when she, in turn, succeeded to the seat of stewardship.”

Professor Ozpin’s eyebrows rose. “I see,” he murmured. “I suppose that she technically had the power to do such a thing. I take it that you refused her?”

“The offer was withdrawn,” Pyrrha explained. “Amidst great social pressure – organised by my mother, I’m sure – and a lessening of the grimm threat. But, yes, I would have refused her. I… I didn’t want to go.”

“I am glad that you have so enjoyed your time here at Beacon so far, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said.

“But don’t you understand?” Pyrrha asked him. “I chose myself over my duty to Mistral and to mankind; if I was truly the person that you needed to serve you against the dark, would I not already be a huntress?”

“Ah, I see your point,” Professor Ozpin replied. “Or rather, I should say I see what you believe your point to be.”

“Some might say that since the offer was withdrawn it doesn’t matter if I would have accepted it or not,” Pyrrha murmured. “I disagree. In this case, I think it matters a great deal. Are you sure that I am someone you can rely on?”

“Well,” Professor Ozpin said, “far be it from me, a humble commoner of no birth, to criticise the Lady Terri-Belle Thrax, Warden of the White Tower and daughter of the Steward of Mistral, but I believe she erred in offering you all that she did. With all due respect, Miss Nikos, I do not believe that you are ready to lead. Nor do I believe that you would have found in the Imperial Guard of Mistral such synergy as you possess with your comrades in Team Sapphire.”

“I turned away from the battle, Professor,” Pyrrha reminded him.

“As would have been your right,” Professor Ozpin said. “More to the point, it would be your right to turn away from this battle, and yet, you have refused to exercise it.”

“You do not think me a weak reed?”

“No, Miss Nikos, I think that you are a human being, capable of behaving differently in different situations,” Professor Ozpin said. “And, for my part, I am very glad that we didn’t lose you to the Imperial Guard. Team Sapphire and Beacon would both have been poorer by your absence, and I… I would have lost your services, which I am sure will be excellent.”

“You have more confidence in me than I have in myself, Professor,” Pyrrha said softly. “I fear that I have only skill at arms to my name, and that is-”

“Enough,” Professor Ozpin assured her. “I know that the threat of Salem, the knowledge of her particular lack of weakness, must dominate your thoughts, but I urge you, if you do wish to join this battle, put it to one side. You will never meet her, you will never hear her voice, she will not stir from her castle to trouble you. You need deal only with her servants and her grimm, the battle of monsters for which you have trained and will continue to train while you are here. The battle of huntresses, in which an excellent young huntress such as yourself will, I have no doubt, prove invaluable. If you wish it so.”

Pyrrha glanced away. “I… put like that, Professor, how can I refuse?”

“Forgive me,” Professor Ozpin begged. “I did not wish to press you with flattery, merely to reassure you.”

“I understand, Professor, and I thank you for it,” Pyrrha said earnestly. “I… I confess that there have been times when I have wondered what I have to offer such a world as this. Ruby and Sunset… they seem so much better suited for it than I do.”

“I take it, then, that Miss Rose has informed you of the extraordinary properties her eyes possess.”

“I… I am not sure whether she will like the cost once it comes out that she possesses magic,” Pyrrha confessed.

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “Leave that to me, Miss Nikos; as you may have realised, I’m rather good at keeping secrets.”

Pyrrha could not help but chuckle at that. She covered her mouth with one hand. “I suppose that’s true, Professor.”

“Do not be ashamed that you feel the burden of this task, the burden of the truths you have discovered,” Professor Ozpin told her sombrely. “It only shows that you are wise and alert to that same truth. I would be concerned if you were not concerned.”

“Ruby is not,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“Miss Rose has many fine qualities,” Professor Ozpin allowed. “But also a little more growing to do yet.”

Pyrrha thought that a little harsh, considering that it had been Professor Ozpin’s own choice to let Ruby into Beacon before she had finished growing, but perhaps he had been more aware that this day would come than he wished to admit. She wondered briefly if she was allowed to ask that, before deciding that she had little to lose by it. “Did you know that this might happen, Professor? Did you foresee a crisis? Is that why you admitted Ruby early?”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “There were signs,” he admitted. “I did not foresee that Salem would put her agent into Beacon itself, but… there were portents of a coming storm. Admitting Miss Rose was one of my discreet preparations. Plus, having seen her skills, I thought that she had little left to learn at combat school.”

“'Signs'?” Pyrrha asked. “'Portents'?”

“I am afraid that that is a subject for another time, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said apologetically.

“I see,” Pyrrha murmured. “Of course, Professor.”

“Thank you for your time, Miss Nikos.”

---

There was a chessboard sitting on Professor Ozpin’s desk, with all the pieces laid out for a game. It was sat on one corner of the desk, not directly in front of the headmaster, but Sunset kept an eye on it nonetheless as she sat down.

She did not comment on it, but her eyes kept glancing at that before returning to look at the headmaster himself.

“Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said softly, his tone benign, almost reminiscent of Princess Celestia. Except he wasn’t Celestia. He was just a man. A man who kept secrets, a man who lied, a man who still knew a lot more than he was letting on to them. “How are things before your mission tomorrow?”

“Fine,” Sunset said. “The team is in… I can’t honestly say that they’re in good spirits, but I hope that I can get them there before we leave tomorrow morning.”

“You have an idea, I take it?”

“One or two,” Sunset replied. “Something to raise morale a little bit.”

“I am sorry to be the reason morale is low, Miss Shimmer.”

“Professor, I would rather suffer the morale hit and know the truth,” Sunset said. “All of it.”

“I’m not so sure,” Professor Ozpin replied. “Sometimes, one can do what one must perfectly well without all the facts, and sometimes, one is better off for it.”

In other words, you’re not going to tell me anything else, Sunset thought. “That is… a point of view, Professor.” Unfortunately, it was the view that Princess Celestia seemed to hold. The view that had been proved correct when Twilight, who had known no more than what she needed to know, had succeeded where Sunset, who had known everything, had failed. Sunset scowled at the thought that Professor Ozpin might be right to keep her and her friends in the dark.

“Something wrong, Miss Shimmer?”

“No, Professor,” Sunset grunted. The two are not comparable! Princess Celestia learned from failure and bitter experience; he is just acting this way because he likes the power that comes from knowledge! What gives him the right to decide what I can and cannot know? He is but a man, no better than myself. What gives him the right to act as Celestia does and to make a mockery of her by the imitation?

Put like that, it was a downright disgrace.

Professor Ozpin accepted her denial and said no more about her scowl. Rather, he said, “General Ironwood tells me that he has approved the plan that you devised alongside Miss Dash.”

“We all chipped in, although I did play a substantial part,” Sunset declared. “I’m glad it met with the General’s approval. It shows he has some tactical acumen after all.”

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “I sometimes suspect, Miss Shimmer, that you wear your ego as armour against the world.”

“As a faunus I have need of armour, Professor,” Sunset said. “My achievements will not speak for themselves, as Pyrrha’s do, so I must speak for them twice as loud.” She smiled. “And besides, I have a reputation as a narcissist to maintain.”

“You, at least, seem to be in good spirits, Miss Shimmer, in spite of everything.”

“Is that not part of my role, as leader, to be all cheer?” Sunset asked. She leaned forwards, her tail flicking back and forth behind her. “Now is the moment to stride to our glory and to our destiny; we stand upon the verge of the adventure of a lifetime, just like we signed up for.” She smiled, although she doubted that it reached her eyes. “Isn’t that what I ought to say to them?”

Professor Ozpin regarded her keenly. “I would prefer you to say something honest, Miss Shimmer.”

“You would not have me conjure hope when it is extinguished in my own heart, Professor?”

“Is hope extinguished in your heart, Miss Shimmer?”

“Not at all, Professor, I merely wish to make things clear.”

“I would have you make clear to me how you really feel, Miss Shimmer.”

Sunset sniggered. “Very well, Professor, I shall speak true – although I do not guarantee I shall speak plainly, for plain speech is often rather dull, don’t you think? But truly, I am not sure that Salem is unbeatable.”

“Really? And what makes you say that, Miss Shimmer?”

“She hasn’t met me yet, Professor.”

“I believe I asked you to speak truly, Miss Shimmer; can you not take off your armour?”

“Think you that without my armour, I would be my true self, Professor?” Sunset asked. “Say rather that without my armour, I should be diminished and of less use to you in consequence.”

“Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin’s tone was reproachful. “I fear that such bravado will crumble and leave you greatly diminished at the worst possible time. I urge you to put it away now, while it is safe to do so.”

“And what would you have me embrace instead, Professor?” Sunset asked.

“A better lode to mine your courage from,” Professor Ozpin said. “Friendship-”

“I do not require you to instruct me in friendship, Professor,” Sunset said sharply, more sharply than she ought to have done. It rather gave away the game in terms of her hostility towards the headmaster, especially with the way her ears started to flatten on top of her head. But to be lectured by this man – this man – about friendship, and drawing courage from friendship and strength from friendship… it was not to be borne.

Professor Ozpin’s face was, by contrast, inscrutable. His voice was flat as he said, “You do not like me, do you, Miss Shimmer?”

“I do not know you well enough to say whether I like you or not, Professor,” Sunset replied. “You have not taken off your armour to let me get a look at you yet.”

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “Touché, Miss Shimmer. But perhaps you can admit that you do not trust me.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “How did Summer Rose die?”

“I’m not sure why that’s relevant, Miss Shimmer.”

“She died in your service, did she not?” Sunset demanded.

Professor Ozpin took a moment to utter a quiet, “Yes.”

“That is why I do not trust you, Professor,” Sunset declared. “I understand friendship perfectly well, and need no instruction upon it from you. I have… I have learned it from many good and open hearts. If you wish to see me with my armour off, then very well: my friends are as dear to me as life itself. Dearer, even, I would fain go on living without them! If I could save them from this war, from this world and all its terrors and its cruelties, I would do it! I would do it, save that their natures are too noble to be saved when others are not; they would not have it. Very well, then I shall save them and the world! You call that arrogance; I call it all that I can do, the only option that is open to me. That is what I mine my courage from; that is what friendship means, Professor; that is why I will fight your battles for you, and win them, and keep them safe into the bargain. I will let you use me as your servant, but be under no doubt that I am theirs.”

“And Cinder Fall’s?”

Sunset’s chair scraped against the floor as she got up. “I don’t have to listen to this,” she snapped. “I don’t have to have my loyalty questioned.”

“Actually,” Professor Ozpin said mildly, “I think that if anyone is allowed to question your loyalty, I am.”

“My affection for Cinder will not place any of my friends in jeopardy,” Sunset said.

“No, I don’t suppose it will,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “That was very much the answer I expected from you, Miss Shimmer; please sit down.”

Sunset remained standing, her ears pressed down against her hair, her tail flicking as she glared down at the headmaster.

“Please, Miss Shimmer, I meant no offence,” Professor Ozpin said. “I am sorry, but you must understand that in this situation, I must understand… I must understand.”

“You seek to understand me?” Sunset asked.

“I think I am coming to understand you, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. He slid the chessboard into the centre of the desk. “Do you play, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset sat down. “Upon occasion, Professor.”

“Indulge me then, if you will,” Professor Ozpin said, gesturing at the board. “It’s your move.”

Indeed, he had presented Sunset with the advantage of playing as white.

Sunset folded her arms as she considered it. Professor Ozpin was likely to be a better opponent than Jaune Arc, although perhaps not so good as Twilight, and certainly not as good as Celestia. She might not win, but that was not to say that she stood no chance at all… and it would be good to see where she stood in front of him.

She picked up a pawn and moved it two squares forward.

She soon found that Professor Ozpin was very good. Better than Twilight Sparkle, better than Sunset had been expecting. Sunset found herself fighting just to fend him off, racing her knights and bishops from pillar to post to counter thrusts aimed here or there. He had an interesting style of play, to be sure; he seemed to have more pieces on the board than Sunset did, more pieces than the standard number that he actually had; he made his knights and rooks and bishops fly, relying on them far more than upon his pawns. His queen, he used not at all. In the whole game, she did not move from her starting position, next to the king. The most powerful piece in the game, and she simply sat there, motionless, while Sunset employed hers to menace Professor Ozpin’s pieces and make him think twice about some of his angles of attack.

If Professor Ozpin had any interest in queens at all, it seemed to lie in making them, for Sunset realised that he wasn’t trying to use his pawns to slaughter Sunset’s own pieces, but to get them across the board, to reach her backline where they could be crowned.

And what kind of queens will you make us, your real life pawns, Professor? Sunset thought. What kind of queen will Salem make of Cinder?

She frowned at the thought of Cinder, but the truth was… well, it described her, didn’t it? Trying to fight her way across the board against the odds, trying to be queen.

Not that she’d appreciate being called a pawn, of course.

The distracting thoughts irritated her, as did the fact that Sunset suspected that Professor Ozpin was going easy on her. More than once – several times, in fact – he left pieces open, left vulnerabilities for her to exploit, opportunities for her to take knights and bishops, even rooks, opportunities for her to close with his king.

She left them all alone. They were traps, all of them, that would have entailed trading pieces with him. She had no desire to do that. She sensed that this was not just a game that they were playing; this was a statement about herself that she was making to him. Very well then, she would show him who she was in this rather bloodless game of theirs.

“You’re being very cautious, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin noted.

“I’m being defensive, Professor,” Sunset murmured. “There is a difference.”

“An academic one, perhaps,” Professor Ozpin replied. “It is costing you the game.”

“I haven’t lost yet,” Sunset muttered.

“You aren’t winning, either,” Professor Ozpin reminded her. “In fact, you are in retreat.”

“I’m preserving my forces.”

“You’re failing to take the opportunities that-”

“I don’t require you to give me openings,” Sunset snapped. “And I will not trade my pieces for your own.” She looked up from the board. “That’s what you would have me do, isn’t it? Sacrifice my pawns, my knights, all of my pieces to take out yours? To protect the king?”

“And the queen,” Professor Ozpin said mildly. “Sacrifices must be made, Miss Shimmer; in chess, in war, it is never pleasant, nor is it easy, nor should it be either of those things, but it is sometimes necessary.”

“Was Summer Rose a necessary sacrifice?” Sunset asked.

Professor Ozpin did not respond. He simply moved.

Sunset moved in turn. “I don’t believe in necessary sacrifices,” she said.

Professor Ozpin frowned. “If you are not willing to lose something, Miss Shimmer,” he said, “I fear that you may lose everything.” He moved again. “That’s checkmate, Miss Shimmer.”

Sunset’s mouth tightened. “This is not a game, Professor.”

“No, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin agreed. “This is a war.”

“With lives at stake.”

“With kingdoms and a world at stake,” Professor Ozpin insisted. “In the field, you cannot afford to be squeamish.”

“I don’t mean to be squeamish,” Sunset answered. “I mean to win without losses.”

“And how do you propose to do that, Miss Shimmer?” Professor Ozpin asked.

Sunset held out her hand, which was surrounded by the green aura of her magic as she lifted the black pieces, every one, clean off the board with her telekinesis and deposited them neatly back in their box.

“How’s that for a start?” she demanded.

Comments

[Lancerguy]

A lovely chapter for perspective building. I am a little surprised that it didn’t come up in Ruby’s chat that 1/4 of Iron already is in on the secret, although that 1/4 is much more discreet and 1/2 often rounds up. More exciting is the revel of the moral foil to Sunnykins. It’s Ciel.

[Mastermind4892]

This was a fascinating and much-needed exploration of how each character feels now that they are brought into the fold, now that more cards are on the table. And I believe that Sunset means that she intends to change the rules, change the game. And she most certainly will, one day. Just as I also love how Sunset is the most skeptical and distrusting towards Ozpin, but will one day become his most devoted supporter. Even his friend.

“I’ll be all alone,” Penny murmured.

I feel rather foolish that I hardly considered that before. Assuming she doesn't get killed, she can potentially live much like an immortal. And she would be alone, just like Ozpin and Celestia.

[Christopher28]

10888844
Unfortunately, unlike Ozpin and Salem, Penny isn't truly immortal. Unaging... sort of, assuming she's well maintained... and that her Aura won't fade over enough time. Would the Aura of a normal human last forever?

But Penny can be killed. They can't. Not permanently. And given her place in the forefront of a war between such immortals... it's almost inevitable that she will eventually fall. And I'm not just saying that because she dies twice in Canon, although it seems that the showrunners agree with me. Penny is at the tip of the spear, and she's hardly invincible. She will fall eventually if she stays in the war between Ozpin and Salem.

[Kiue Jin]

There's Penny, asking the real questions. After all, one does not just come into being as an immortal asshole bent on the world's destruction. There is generally a story there... even if it is forgotten.

[Scipio Smith]

10888950
Aura is a reflection of the soul and the soul lasts forever (although Ozpin's soul merges with that of his host, the soul of Ozma was chilling in limbo for however it long it was before the God of Light offered him the poisoned chalice of a return to Remnant with no apparent ill-effects, and beyond that there does appear to be an afterlife where the dead live forever.

While I take your point about Penny's deaths, I should point out that one of those deaths was after she had stopped being a robot; indeed one could argue that if she had been a robot at the time of her second death then she could have taken that hit from Cinder without such ill-effect.

[PoluBrony]

I have a feeling, we gonna friendshipismagic(tm) Salem
Also
Okay, I kinda start to understand Sunset's later out of nowhere loyalty, however, I agree with her, when she doesn't want to be lectured by Ozpin about friendship
Would have been fun to see his reaction, if she asked if he himself had any friends
Yeah, Sunset here is idealistic, however, she will become alicorn princess, these have a tendency to do the impossible

[Widow Peak]

I quite liked this chapter, with everyone posing their different point of view. I am sorry for Penny, specially.

[sonicandmario826]

You know while the chess game shows the difference in Sunset and Ozpin’s worldviews it also imo shows the difference between the views of Equestria and Remnant. I think most people from the more idealistic would have Equestria would agree with Sunset that there shouldn’t be any sacrifices especially with how much importance that society puts in friendships and the people of those friendships. While in a more jaded world like remnant which is in an endless war with the Grimm most people there would agree with Ozpin that sacrifices need to be made and to be expected. I can definitely tell this will come back and hit Sunset later on in the story.