A Fox in the Henhouse (New)
A Fox in the Henhouse
Terri-Belle awoke to the sound of birdsong.
She could hear it clearly, not muffled at all: a twittering, joined by the more musical whistling sound of a different bird altogether. The rustling leaves or branches. Rustling of something.
Terri-Belle opened her eyes, and then almost immediately closed them again at the sudden brightness. It was not dark anymore; she had left the night behind; instead, there was sunlight streaming in through the open window, and beyond the window, a tree, its leaves beginning to turn golden but not yet starting to fall, rustling in the wind.
She couldn’t see the birds singing, but doubtless, they were out there, somewhere.
Terri-Belle’s gaze wandered away from the window as she sought to sit up. She was lying in a bed, with a mattress beneath her and a light blue blanket beneath, in a well-appointed room panelled in dark oak, with a jug of water and a bowl of chrysanthemums on the bedside cabinet and an antique wall scroll depicting a great, serpentine dragon with scales of gold hanging from, well, the wall.
More golden flowers sat in a willow-pattern vase on another cabinet across the room from her, while her spear, Thunderbolt, rested in the corner of the room. A green carpet bordered with a white-covered part of the floor.
And a man, a little man turning bald, dressed in plain robes of lime green, sat in a chair not far from the door.
Terri-Belle winced in pain as she tried to sit up, rousing the man from his stupor.
“My lady is awake!” he cried, rising from his wooden seat. “Wait, please, I will fetch His Excellency.”
Terri-Belle frowned. “It would please me more if you would wait to give me your name than it would please me to wait upon His Excellency.”
The man hesitated a moment before he said, “If it please my lady, my name is Chongkun, and I have the honour to be a servant in the house of His Excellency Cheng, Mayor of Shiragiku.”
“The mayor,” Terri-Belle said. “This is the mayor’s house?”
Chongkun bowed his head. “My lady was brought here to be cared for.”
To curry favour with me if I survived, no doubt. “How long have I slept?” Terri-Belle asked.
“A night, a day, and another night, my lady,” Chongkun said. “It is but morning now upon the second day.”
“Still too long,” Terri-Belle murmured. She glanced down at her shoulder, and her arm. Someone — a doctor, hopefully — had bandaged them both up, though to speak true, she felt more stiff than otherwise in pain; her aura had hopefully been hard at work these last nights and day; she would not be surprised to find that, beneath the bandages, she was healed. Although she would probably always have a mark of that villain’s esteem. “My companion, Melantho, where is she?”
Chongkun winced. “I should fetch His Excellency—”
“Answer the damn question!” Terri-Belle growled, although by his hesitancy, she feared that she could guess the answer.
Chongkun bowed his head. “Your companion … did not survive, my lady.”
Terri-Belle closed her eyes. She bowed her head and covered her face with one hand. “May the gods judge her mercifully,” she whispered. And may she forgive me for my failure when we meet again.
Her, and Eurymachus.
A sigh escaped her lips. “Thank you, good man. Thank you for your honesty.” She sighed again. “I require my scroll.”
“My lady?”
“No, not my lady, for I have none; my scroll,” Terri-Belle said.
“His Excellency—”
“Yes, yes, fetch the mayor but fetch my scroll also,” Terri-Belle commanded. “And quickly!”
Chongkun’s head bobbed up and down twice, before he turned and fairly fled from the room, shutting the door sharply behind him.
Now she was alone, and silence reigned for moments brief until it was shattered by a howl of frustration torn from Terri-Belle’s throat.
A thousand curses on that scorpion! A thousand curses for every stolen life, and then a thousand more for good measure! Why? Why would any man take such a course? To cut down so many huntsmen, and to cut down so many others in pursuit of huntsmen? What would drive a man to such savagery?
“The ant might as well try to understand the boot that steps on it as you could comprehend my motives.”
Words. Words that might mean anything or everything or nothing at all. Words that might be sincere or just the ramblings of a man who had as much motivation as he had conscience. Terri-Belle thought of the dead of the caravan, the way that beasts and men alike had been mutilated; that was not the work of a man following orders; rather, it was the work of a man who enjoyed pain and revelled in violence.
Yet nevertheless, it did not necessarily follow that he was not acting under orders. Some men had use for mad creatures like that scorpion she had fought, and such creatures would sometimes find or seek out those who would offer them scope for their proclivities while shielding them from the consequences.
But who would want to slaughter Mistral’s huntsmen and huntresses?
Terri-Belle could not conceive of an answer to that — or rather, she could, but none of the answers made sense; bandits would obviously profit by the deaths of huntsmen, and it was far from inconceivable that that scorpion might be aligned to some bandit tribe, but would the tribe allow him to work alone, unsupported, with no sign of the other bandits? There had been no bandit activity reported around Shiragiku, which implied a great deal of distance between the tribe and their killer if he was, indeed, a bandit.
Terri-Belle was not an expert in the ways of the bandit tribes, but from what she did know, such a killer as she had encountered would more likely be found leading the tribe, having slaughtered his way to the high seat, than they would be roaming the wilds as a weapon for another.
Unless their master were even stronger than themselves, which barely bore thinking about.
But there was another detail which made Terri-Belle disinclined to support the bandit hypothesis, but which at the same time convinced her that this was more than the actions of one lone madman: if someone was hunting down huntsmen, if they were not simply meeting misfortunes at the hands of the grimm, then he who hunted them down had to know where they were. The attacks — assuming, for the moment, that the scorpion she had met was responsible for more deaths than those around Shiragiku — were too frequent to be the result of luck. He wasn’t just happening upon huntsmen around Anima: he had known that the caravan was on its way to Shiragiku, then he had known that another huntsman was coming to look for the caravan, and then he had known that Terri-Belle was going to look for all three huntsmen, and so, he had lain in wait to ambush each of them as they arrived.
He had known they were coming.
He had known she was coming.
Someone had told him.
There was a rat, in the Guard or the Huntsman’s Guild, someone who knew what missions were available — who knew what missions had been accepted. Someone who was passing that information on.
That was why it could not be bandits; there was no way such scum would be able to get someone inside the establishment like that, and there was no way that any Mistralian huntsman would agree to work with them. No, this … as unpleasant a thought as it was, this was the work of someone … someone respectable. A lord or a councillor, a wealthy merchant maybe, a man of wealth and influence, someone who could employ a man like the scorpion, as well as paying someone in the guard or the guild to give them information. But who? And to what end?
It crossed her mind that perhaps Lord Rutulus might be arranging all of this in order to monopolise the market in protection and security, but Terri-Belle swiftly dismissed the thought. She might not like the man very much, but whatever his faults, Lord Rutulus was a man of honour; he would not stoop so low.
It was hard to believe that any great man in Mistral would stoop so low, or endanger so many of their folk for mere advantage.
What did they want? Who could profit by such slaughter?
And how could they be stopped?
Two things struck fear into Terri-Belle’s heart: the first was the knowledge that she had just uncovered the edge of a conspiracy that had previously lain hidden out of sight, lurking in the shadows like a serpent waiting to strike, a conspiracy that might aim at so much as the overthrow of her father and her house, at control of Mistral itself; the second thing … was that she had been beaten.
Terri-Belle was the Captain of the Imperial Guard, she was the Warden of the White Tower, and yet, she had been defeated. She had been bested and had to flee for her life; she had set out with three companions, and she had lost all of them. She had not even been able to save Melantho, and she had been right there in her arms.
She had been beaten.
The scorpion was so swift, and strong besides. Yes, Terri-Belle had been taken by surprise, but even had she not … alone, the outcome would have been the same. He was too much for her.
Which would have been bad enough for her pride, but worse still for her heart was the fact that Terri-Belle knew that she was no poor warrior; she had not attained her position by blood and name alone. Of her Imperial Guard, she was the most skilful, the fastest, the strongest, and yet still she had struggled to so much as hold her own against this adversary. No wonder other huntsmen and huntresses had fallen before him as wheat before the sickle at harvest time.
Who could withstand him, if Terri-Belle could not? Not her sisters, Shining Light or Blonn Di; Swift Foot might grow to be Terri-Belle’s superior, but she was not yet; her guards were good men and women, courageous and well trained, huntsmen and huntresses of honour, but she could not think of one of them who would have survived where Eurymachus and Melantho had not. Thersander, Stheneleus, Euryalus, none of them would have survived this encounter.
Then who could?
Chiron, perhaps, if age had not wearied him and weakened his limbs; Camilla of the Rutulians was made of the true steel; Arslan Altan, the Golden Lion of Mistral, had the speed to keep up with him; also at Mistral was a student named Hector who was reputed very skilled — although he had not participated in any tournaments, so Terri-Belle had not had the opportunity to judge for herself.
And, of course, there was Pyrrha. Surely, their pride reborn would have been able to stand against this menace, if any could.
Always, always it came back to Pyrrha. If she had agreed to come home and serve under Terri-Belle’s command, then Terri-Belle would not tremble now.
She had to come home. Terri-Belle would offer her anything, any comfort or honour or anything at all to accomplish that goal. She would make the offer not only to Pyrrha herself, but to her teammates also; if her Valish sweetheart and her friends meant so much to her, then let them all come to Mistral together; Terri-Belle would make them all huntsmen and huntresses and have them swear the oaths before the Steward. Surely, Pyrrha could find nothing to object to in that: comfort combined with duty, personal inclination combined with obligation. They could be huntsmen and huntresses in Mistral as well as in Vale, and was not Mistral a more pleasant place to live by far?
It would cause a panic if Terri-Belle enticed her back before the Vytal Festival, but afterwards … Terri-Belle had to make her see that she was needed at home. Surely, she could not remain forever blind to her duty?
Until then, until their champion returned … they would have to rely upon avoiding battle. How hard could it be to not encounter a single man in a land so vast as Anima?
It stuck in her craw that she needed to think in such a way; she wanted nothing more than to hunt him down and shove her spear so far up his backside that it came out his mouth, but she had to be reasonable. She had to give thought to the lives of the huntsmen she would spend in such a quest. In such a hopeless quest, all things being as they were now.
She could not beat him. Even if she were to train night and day — and she would do so — she could not guarantee that she would ever be able to beat him.
And her duty to Mistral and her father outweighed her desire for revenge.
The door slid open, and a portly man in an orange daopao and a tall black hat, wearing a golden medallion adorned with the image of a rooster hung from a chain of jade beads around his neck, walked into the room. He clasped his hands together and bowed to her.
“Lady Terri-Belle,” he said, “my servant Chongkun told me you were awake. We are most glad to see you recovered.”
Terri-Belle bowed her head to him in turn, “Mayor Cheng, I presume?”
“I have the honour of serving your father and the people of this town,” Mayor Cheng replied.
“I apologise, sir, for not presenting my respects when I arrived on my first visit here,” Terri-Belle said. “I was in haste, but that is no excuse for my neglect of propriety. You have my sincere regrets, and my equally sincere thanks for your care.”
“The first is of no issue,” Mayor Cheng replied, his baggy sleeve flapping as he waved one hand dismissively. “And as for the second, it is the least we could do for our Warden of the White Tower. I am honoured to serve Mistral in any way.”
“Your good service will not be forgotten, I assure you,” Terri-Belle said.
She would have to remember to give him some suitable reward upon her return home; if he had not done it for that reason, it was nevertheless expected that he should receive something. A lord who took advantage of too much charity would cease to find themselves in receipt of it.
Mayor Cheng smiled, but it was a thin smile and seemed somewhat strained. “My lady … allow me first to express my condolences upon the death of your companion. The doctor attended to her, as you instructed, but her injuries … she was dead before you arrived.”
“I feared as much,” Terri-Belle murmured. “If I may ask, where … where is she now?”
“The doctor has her … preserved,” Mayor Cheng said. “I did not know what you would wish to be done with her.”
“I will take her back to Mistral, and leave it to her family to decide how they wish to … to proceed,” Terri-Belle said.
“Of course,” Mayor Cheng murmured. He glanced away. “Lady Terri-Belle … I fear … the people are concerned. First, the caravan did not arrive from Manjushage; that is not novel, but every time it happens, we have cause to fear, for it means that there are grimm or brigands nearby. Then a huntsman comes through the town to seek the caravan, and she sets out and does not return. Then you come, with two other warriors, and you set out to seek the searcher, yet only you come back with all your horses gone bar one, one companion cradled in your arms who, regrettably, is dead, and you yourself have been shot twice and collapse in the middle of the street. You can understand, I hope, that nerves are fraying. I have done my best to maintain calm, but I find that I am not altogether calm myself.”
“You could have fooled me, sir, and I am sure you have done an admirable job of fooling the people,” Terri-Belle said.
“My lady, I do not find this very amusing,” Mayor Cheng said.
“No, neither do I,” Terri-Belle replied. She paused for a moment. “The caravan is dead, and so is the huntress who searched for them, and so are my two guards and my groom.”
Mayor Cheng’s brown eyes widened. “The caravan … everyone is dead?”
Terri-Belle nodded.
“Sea and sky,” Mayor Cheng murmured. He sat down upon the chair on which his servant had been sitting not too long ago. “How? How many villains lurk outside our town? How long until they descend upon us?”
“I will not allow that,” Terri-Belle vowed. “As you are people of Mistral, so will Mistral keep you safe. Do you have my scroll?”
“Ah, yes, of course,” Mayor Cheng said, producing the device from out of his long sleeve. He got up and walked across the room to hand it to her. “Do you wish me to leave?”
“No, you may remain; it will give you some news to give to your people,” Terri-Belle said. She opened up the scroll and swiftly found the names Shining Light and Blonn Di.
She called them both.
Terri-Belle found that she had to wait longer than she would have been comfortable with for them to answer — made worse because she was acutely conscious of Mayor Cheng watching her all the while she waited for a response — but before she could grow too impatient the images of her two middle sisters appeared upon the scroll, in separate windows side by side.
“Terri-Belle,” Shining Light said. “Not like you to call. Did you miss us?”
“Always,” grunted Terri-Belle. “I’m sure you’ll be delighted to know that you will be remaining in charge in my absence for just a little longer.”
Shining Light was the older of the two twins, and as such, was Terri-Belle’s lieutenant in the guard. If Pyrrha finally accepted Terri-Belle’s entreaties, then she would appoint her to the position in Shining Light’s place; it was not very sororal, but one had to make some allowances for quality — and for the Nikos name, and Pyrrha’s reputation to boot. Until then, Shining Light did a reasonable job, although Terri-Belle wished she could be more popular with the guards.
“Sister, you wrong me,” Shining Light said. “I look forward to nothing more than the day of your return.”
Blonn Di’s eyes narrowed. “What is the cause of this delay?”
“Blonn Di, I need you to take half the guard and come to Shiragiku, immediately,” Terri-Belle commanded.
Blonn Di’s eyebrows rose. “Half the guard?”
“Yes, half!” Terri-Belle snapped. “Armed and ready, as quickly as you can.”
Blonn Di licked her lips. “Half the guard. Aye. As you command, Captain.”
“What’s going on?” Shining Light demanded, all playfulness leaving her voice. “What did you find out there, Terri-Belle?”
Terri-Belle glanced at Mayor Cheng, hovering nearby. “Just keep the city safe until I return,” she said. “Blonn Di, call me as you approach the town.”
“Of course,” Blonn Di murmured.
Terri-Belle closed her scroll.
“Half the Imperial Guard?” Mayor Cheng said.
“Half the guard,” Terri-Belle confirmed. “That will be twenty-f—” She stopped. She had had forty-seven guards when she set out, but now there were only forty-five. “Twenty-two huntsmen when they arrive, twenty-three including myself. Twenty-three, and we will not leave until the danger is passed. I guarantee the safety of Shiragiku, sir, upon my honour. And now, sir, I must ask if you have my armour somewhere about. If so, I would be grateful if you would have it brought to me. And my honour band, also.”
“I can have them brought, my lady,” Mayor Cheng acknowledged. “But the cuirass—”
“Will serve me better than anything else,” Terri-Belle said. “Please, have it brought at once.”
“Are you sure, my lady?” Mayor Cheng asked. “Your injuries—”
“I am, as you reminded me, the Warden of the White Tower,” Terri-Belle said. “A moment spent in bed unnecessarily is a moment too long.”
The strength of our people.
Those were the words engraved on Terri-Belle’s silver honour band. She could see them inscribed upon the inside of the metal as she held it up to the light.
Her father had given this to her when she started at Haven Academy. The words — and the implication that they carried — might have seemed presumptuous at the time; they had been presumptuous at the time, and yet, at the same time, they had given Terri-Belle something to strive for, a destiny towards which to walk. She would become the strength of her people, a tower to protect them against their enemies. The discovery of her semblance had only confirmed her in her belief that was the goal at which she ought to aim, that this was a task to which she had been suited by nature.
And as she grew, so she had grown into the responsibility which she had appointed to herself.
But now…
Now her strength had proved insufficient.
Nevertheless, she thought as she slipped the band over her arm, pushing it above her elbow, she would do all she could … and pray that Mistral’s destiny was not to fall while she defended it.
When Blonn Di and the guards arrived — a few hours later, descending from the skies in a trio of airships — Terri-Belle led them out of Shiragiku, down the road, the same road down which she had led Melantho and Eurymachus to their deaths. She led them all the way to the hollow, where the dead of the caravan remained. But this time, there was no sign of the scorpion. They did not meet him on the road; they did not find him in the hollow; they scouted beyond and all around and found him not.
In the time Terri-Belle had been out of it, he had, it seemed, disappeared. He had no more interest in this place and no desire to fight with them.
And Terri-Belle could not escape the feeling that they had been lucky.
At least they could bury the dead of the caravan and recover the body of Eurymachus for his family in Mistral to dispose of.
Professor Lionheart cringed as he stood in the doorway, his back hunched and his hands clasped together in front of his chest as though he was recoiling from a snake. “You, uh, you asked to see me, Lady Terri-Belle?”
“Yes,” Terri-Belle replied. “I did. Come in, Professor.”
She was back in Mistral, in the little room in the palace that served as her office, out of which she commanded the Imperial Guard. She believed it had been something else once, something that did not require more than barren walls and a draughty space, but it was one of the few places that had not been designated for other purposes long before her time, which meant it was one of the only places in the palace where she could work. Terri-Belle sat behind a foldable wooden desk, while Swift Foot sat in a chair in the corner of the room.
“You may sit down if you like,” Terri-Belle added, “although I don’t intend to keep you long.”
“In that case, I will stand,” Professor Lionheart said, sounding as though one of the reasons he wished to stand was that he could more swiftly bolt for the door when their business was concluded.
“It’s only me, Professor,” Terri-Belle reminded him. She smiled. “You once gave me a detention after I broke a plate over Antinous’ head, remember?”
Professor Lionheart chuckled. “Yes, I … I don’t know where I found the courage to punish you. Your father—”
“Was glad that you did,” Terri-Belle said. “The fact that I was punished without fear or favour gave him hope that I would learn better in the future. As I did, I would hope.”
“You have turned out very well, Lady Terri-Belle,” Professor Lionheart assured her.
“Not well enough, I fear,” Terri-Belle replied.
Professor Lionheart was silent for a moment. “Lady Terri-Belle, why have you summoned me?”
Terri-Belle sighed. “I have spoken to my father,” she said. “He has … listened to my counsel, and he has agreed to put the plans of Ms. Yeoh into action. We will raise a legion, the first legion of a new Mistralian Army, and if it is successful, then we will raise more. Gods know, with our numbers as they are, more guns will not go amiss.”
“I see,” Professor Lionheart murmured. “That is … I’m not sure what to say, my lady, except to ask…” He glanced at Swift Foot.
“Swift Foot is here to learn by observation,” Terri-Belle said. “And she is here because she has my trust.”
“I see,” Professor Lionheart murmured. “But I’m not sure why I, in particular, need to hear this news. It doesn’t relate to my work at Haven or with the Huntsman’s Guild—”
“No, it does not,” Terri-Belle conceded. “But I thought that you might like to know, seeing as you’re here. Lady Ming and Ms. Yeoh are correct; recent events have shown that we are too lightly defended. It is true that soldiers will not be able to withstand a serious onslaught, but if nothing else, they will free up more elite fighters for the situations that require them. But that is almost by the by; we shall see how the experiment turns out. The reason I asked you here, Professor, is to tell you that my father, the Steward of Mistral, has agreed to take absolute control of the Huntsman’s Guild until further notice, as is provided for in the Instrument of Government—”
“In a state of emergency,” Professor Lionheart declared.
“Someone is hunting down our huntsmen, Professor; what would you call that if not an emergency?” Terri-Belle demanded. She rose to her feet, both hands resting upon the foldable desk. “Apologies for my outburst, but … Professor, if you have seen what I have seen … how many huntsmen have gone missing this last year?”
Professor Lionheart hesitated. “I … I’m not sure.”
“Too many to count, then,” Terri-Belle said. “And all the work of one man.”
Professor Lionheart’s eyes widened. “One man?”
Terri-Belle nodded. “One. One man with skill, speed, strength, and a thirst for bloodshed. A man who kills as easily as breathing. A man who knows the movements of our huntsmen, where they go and why they go there and on what errands. A man who was waiting for me. We have a fox in the henhouse, Professor, and they are feeding our secrets to the wolf outside.”
Professor Lionheart stared at her. He swallowed and began drywashing his hands. “Do you … do you suspect … who could possibly do such a thing?”
Terri-Belle bowed her head. “That’s the worst part, Professor; I can’t even imagine. It must be someone influential, powerful. My belief is that there is someone in the city who wishes to see us all dead, although for what purpose, I cannot yet work out; that person, whoever they may be, has suborned someone in the Guild or the Guard to inform on them of the movements of huntsmen, and furthermore employed this killer to dispose of them.” She looked at him. “I would appreciate it if you would make some discrete inquiries around the guild, see if anyone has come into a substantial amount of money, or if anyone who has been complaining about their poverty stopped lately.”
“Many huntsmen complain about their poverty,” Professor Lionheart said.
“There will be a difference between good-natured grumbling and real complaint,” Terri-Belle said. She shook her head. “I don’t know, but please, Professor, ask a few questions. But be careful. Whoever this is may kill to protect their secret.”
Professor Lionheart had many faults, and he was far from being the best Headmaster that Haven could have had, but Terri-Belle had no desire to see him stabbed to death in some back alley for the crime of poking his nose where it didn’t belong. He had, after all, taught her for four years; she might not be who she was without him.
And besides, if he was not the best teacher or trainer of huntsmen, at the least, Professor Lionheart always had a paternal care for the welfare of his students. His office door had always been open when Terri-Belle had studied at Haven, and you could always come in for a cup of hot cocoa and a cosy chat if you were feeling upset about something.
I wonder if they still call him Uncle Leo?
No, Terri-Belle did not want to see him dead; he did not deserve it. Certainly not because of something that she had asked him to do.
“Of course,” Professor Lionheart murmured. “I will find out what I can. You mean to declare a state of emergency, then?”
“No, that would only panic the people,” Terri-Belle said. “As far as the common folk are concerned, life in Mistral will continue as it has. They will go to work, they will go to the market, and in a little while, they will sit in front of the television and watch Pyrrha Nikos triumph in the Vytal Festival. Nothing will change for them except how they hire huntsmen. The people will be told that there are … viruses in the job board, rendering it inoperable.”
“Viruses … in the job board?” Professor Lionheart asked.
“I don’t know; I’m not a computer expert,” Terri-Belle squawked. “It sounds plausible enough to me. The point is that, from now on, all assignments from anyone looking to hire a huntsman will come to me, and any huntsman wishing to take on a job will come to me, and I will match them with their missions.” And no one else will know what missions are available or who has taken them on.
Professor Lionheart looked at her. “That … my lady, that is—”
“Safe,” Terri-Belle declared. “Secure.”
“Yes,” Professor Lionheart murmured. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He bowed his head. “Very well, my lady, I will convey your decision to the Guild.” He bowed his head and retreated out the doorway, walking backwards as though he were afraid that Terri-Belle would pounce on him the moment he presented his back to her. He stayed facing her, that cringing look upon his face, until he closed the door.
“Are you sure about this?” Swift Foot asked as the door clicked shut.
“What other choice do I have?” Terri-Belle asked.
“This can’t be it,” Swift Foot replied.
“You think I’m making a mistake?”
“I think this is insane,” Swift Foot replied. “Do you have any idea how much work you’re setting yourself up for?”
“Do you?” Terri-Belle demanded.
“…No,” Swift Foot admitted. “But I imagine it’s quite a bit. I mean, if one person could do all of this by themselves, we wouldn’t need a computer system, right?”
Terri-Belle was not certain that the logic of that exactly held, but that wasn’t to say that Swift Foot didn’t have something resembling a point. “Do you see anything amiss in my conclusion, that someone on the inside is feeding information about the whereabouts of our huntsmen?”
“No,” Swift Foot said. “I guess that makes sense, although I don’t really want to think about it.”
“Someone is trying to bring our city down; nobody wants to think about that,” Terri-Belle muttered. “I couldn’t beat him, Swift Foot.”
Swift Foot didn’t reply. She looked at Terri-Belle, her expression … sympathetic, which made it even worse, as far as Terri-Belle was concerned.
“I couldn’t beat him,” she repeated. “One man, just a man, and he beat me. I couldn’t beat him, and I can count the number of people who might be able to do so on the fingers of one hand, so I will use secrecy in place of strength of arms. If we cannot beat this man, we must avoid him.”
Swift Foot was silent for a moment. “May I speak?”
“Of course.”
“There’s no ‘of course’ about it,” Swift Foot muttered.
“What do you have to say?”
“If there really is a plot against Mistral, then the last thing that Mistral needs is the Warden of the White Tower mired in trivialities.”
“There is nothing trivial about the work of a huntress.”
“You know what I mean!” Swift Foot cried. “Even if the job board was down, this is work for a secretary.”
“I dare not trust a secretary.”
“Then trust me!” Swift Foot leapt up off her seat. “I’ll do the clerking; it’s not as though I’m doing anything else! Or do you not trust me, either?”
Terri-Belle stared down at her for a moment. She smiled, if a little sadly, “Do not be so quick to cast aside your freedom, little sister. The time for serving Mistral will come soon enough, and when it does … enjoy your youth while you have it. Leave the defence of Mistral to me.”
She sat back down at her desk.
She had a lot of work to do.
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If Lionheart in this story is proven to have leaked the information that got so many huntsman killed, that alone is going to do more to shatter the morale of the Huntsmen of Mistral then any amount of losses in the field ever could. Hell, once Salem finds out her pawn can't give her pet target information anymore, she's going to have to weigh Lionheart's value... and there is a lot of chaos and fear that can be driven on the world stage if she actually has Lionheart's actions of undermining Mistral and selling out huntsmen he helped train to be murdered exposed to the public before quickly having him killed before any authorities can get to him.
Not only would this greatly harm the faith in the Academy system, but between Cinder's team using being at Haven as a front and Lionheart's own actions, all Huntsmen trained at Haven during Lionheart's reign there would likely be viewed with distrust and paranoia.
Ohhhhhh... no more Huntsmen will be leaving Mistral to be slaughtered. All because you allowed the most influential of all your targets yet to escape, Tyrian. Salem will be most displeased with you.
Nah it's stupid.
With 6 or 7 years of training, Pyrrha might and it's still far from sure, but as young as she is, she would had been torn to shreds, all of team SAPR would had.
I am really happy to see than Terri-Belle isn't a bitch like so much of those damn aristocrats, the fact than she would rather have her old Headmaster adress her in a less subserviant way is really endearing.
Despite her own PTSD, Terri-Belle is able to take a step back and strategize, well played.
Now, it's Leo so....it's only a matter of time ,and not much of it, before he outs himself out of fear from being outed by others which has already started to fester. Now, once it is reveled, will the public be told? Or will the warden and the steward Harvey Dent the situation to preserve what little peace and order remains?
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Well, as Terri-Belle indicated with her attitude and thoughts toward Lionheart, even if he isn't the best teacher or trainer, he always showed a caring attitude toward his students, and from what we know of his old self, he was once a truly brave man.
For all of those who once called him Uncle Leo and still look at him with affection, for the old friends of when he was a brave man, to all the civilians who respected the old Headmaster, it would be a crushing moral blow.
The Headmaster is both a political and moral strength, it's because James is also the Headmaster than he have such a strong political and moral influence, Ozpin is deeply respected, and even Leo for all his known flaws is only really looked down upon by the obnoxious elite and those who can't stand a Faunus being important, and while a bit disappointing from public pov, is also still liked by many within Mistral (which made his treason all the worse).
I do think than revealing it would be a poor choice.
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Would team SAPR fall to Tyrian? I don’t think it’d be as cut and dried as that.
If he got the drop on them… maybe. But two things. He wears metal. And Sunset Shimmer uses magic. If either Pyrrha or Sunset feels that their lives are on the line, they’d stop holding back and use everything they have. And everything Pyrrha has is ALMOST enough to beat Cinder with the full powers of a Maiden.
Tyrian wears metal. Pyrrha would rag doll him.
Cinder fought Pyrrha (in canon) with zero metal. No metal weapons, no metal armor or clothing. Tyrian has both.
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As we saw in their last fight, Pyrrha and Cinder without using Maiden magic were equals, maybe even with Cinder being a bit stronger (although not sure).
I do admit, the metal things do have huge effects.
But in terms of combat skills, i also compare to the fight of Tyrian against team RNJR in canon.
Now, team SAPR is arguably better, and have certain advantages, but overall, i feel like they would lose against Tyrian.
The good thing about being completely useless is that you are at the very bottom of the list of possible suspects.