• Published 31st Aug 2018
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SAPR - Scipio Smith



Sunset, Jaune, Pyrrha and Ruby are Team SAPR, and together they fight to defeat the malice of Salem, uncover the truth about Ruby's past and fill the emptiness within their souls.

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Why We Keep Secrets (New)

Why We Keep Secrets

Mother was silent for a moment, looking up at Pyrrha from out of the screen of her scroll. “I see,” she murmured.

“But you do not approve,” Pyrrha said, in a tone that was equally soft.

“I question the practicality,” Mother replied. “We are, after all, discussing some variety of brigand. What makes you think she will accept this challenge? Or is to make the challenge the entire purpose, with no expectation that it will be answered? Because if that be the case, I fear you may only make yourself look foolish.”

“Cinder will accept,” Pyrrha insisted. “She is a Mistralian, and steeped in the old ways, and…”

Mother’s brow furrowed. “'And'?” she repeated.

“And she bears me animus,” Pyrrha explained. “She … hates me, I believe. She will not refuse a chance to kill me.”

“I see,” Mother whispered. “Is she skilled, this Cinder Fall?”

“She is ferocious,” Pyrrha allowed. “I would not call her skilled.”

Mother hesitated for a moment, and Pyrrha could feel through the scroll the question that was not said, the question that her mother wished to ask but could not ask: Can you win?

But, in the end, her mother did not ask; either she feared to seem as though she doubted her daughter, or else her pride in Pyrrha was too great to acknowledge the possibility that Pyrrha might not win…

Or else that was not the question that had lingered upon the tip of her tongue, and Pyrrha had only thought that it might be.

“You are my only child,” Mother said. “My heir, the last of our line-”

“And I will be your only child when this is done,” Pyrrha declared. “I will be the last of our line still until I have a child by Jaune, as I mean to. Mother, I do not take this step to throw away my life. There is peril in it, true, but there is peril in many things in the life of a huntress. I take this step… because I would be shamed, before the great-hearted Mistralians, if I did nothing.”

“Shame,” Mother murmured. “I see. You believe that by this gesture, you will effectively silence all those who dare to speak of collusion between the two of you?”

“I am under no illusions,” Pyrrha said. “There will always be malcontents who dislike me, who envy me, who wish to see me … cut down to size. But for the rest, for those who judge with their eyes and with their minds … I do not see how it can be denied that these are falsehoods.”

“Some may argue that you have staged a battle to exonerate yourself.”

“When one of us stands and the other falls, no one will call that staged,” Pyrrha said, quietly but firmly all the same.

Mother gave a slight nod of her head. “I am … surprised,” she said. “I would not have expected such … I would not have expected this.”

“Am I become more the daughter that you wished in your eyes?” Pyrrha asked and could not keep a touch of bitterness entering her voice.

“Is that what you think?” Mother replied. “That I wished that you were otherwise?”

“Is it not so?” Pyrrha said.

Mother did not reply, either to say yes or no, which to Pyrrha’s mind was an answer, even if it were not the answer that she wished to receive.

“Very well,” Mother said. “I will cease the legal action — although I may hold off on doing so until I have extracted a retraction from them. You are right that it will have no discernible impact upon opinion, but it would stick in my craw to simply leave the matter uncontested. If that meets with your approval.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose beneath her circlet. “I was not aware that your actions required my approval, Mother.”

“You have made clear that you intend to handle this yourself,” Mother said. “I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”

Pyrrha was shocked into silence by that. Mother had never spoken to her like that before, never shown that much trust in her before.

That, as far as she was concerned, was proof that she had always wanted Pyrrha to behave like this, or at least more like this, whatever Mother might say to the contrary.

“The threat … may remain,” she allowed. She agreed with Mother; she didn’t like the idea of the article standing as it was, however unlikely any kind of retraction was to change any minds.

“Very well,” Mother said. “In that case, I will leave the matter in your hands, Pyrrha.” She was silent for a moment. “Good fortune attend you, and Victory shower you with her blessings. And take, also, a mother’s blessing on your arms.”

Pyrrha bowed her head. “Thank you, Mother.”

“Always be the best, the bravest,” Mother said, citing the unimpeachable authority of The Mistraliad, “and hold your head up high above all others.”

I will discover … perhaps not if I am the best, Pyrrha thought, but I will at least be able to hold my head up once again.

“Words I will always endeavour to live up to,” Pyrrha said. “Goodbye, Mother.”

She hung up and lowered her scroll down to her side, letting her arms hang loosely on either side of her. She raised her head up to the sky and let a sigh escape her.

Now came the harder task: telling Sunset and Jaune about what she planned to do.


Sunset looked down at the page, with Crown D’Eath’s handwritten scribble underneath the closing paragraph.

He had certainly believed it. He had come here, he had compared the picture of a sword to the actual sword wielded by his friend, and he had believed that they were one and the same.

More than that, he had believed that it was proof that Carrot Arc was the rightful King of Vale.

Well, perhaps that was making the man seem more deranged than was warranted — although given what he’d done with this information… — if Sunset were to look at what other books he’d checked out of the library, and she meant to do just that, she would probably find that he had at least attempted to trace the descent of Jaune of Gaunt in some way that would connect him to the Arc family. Although how he had done that, considering the desire of Bohemund Arc — had Arc even been his name before he walked out of the woods and founded Alba Longa? Had his parents even named him Bohemund? — to shut the book on his past, Sunset couldn’t say.

She was not entirely sure that she wanted to know.

It was funny; she had suggested this idea as a joke. The two swords had the same name, so wouldn’t it be funny if it turned out that they were, in fact, the same sword? Wouldn’t it be funny if Jaune were the heir to the throne of Vale, the way that Pyrrha was the heir to Mistral?

Wouldn’t it be funny?

It was funny, of course, to the extent that it was actually funny, because it was ridiculous. So ridiculous, in fact, that despite her words at the spa, Sunset would never have dared suggest the idea to Lady Nikos. It was absurd to think that Jaune Arc — plain, ordinary Jaune Arc — could be a secret king in hiding. Pyrrha at least had the manners of a princess, the grace and bearing, the courtesy, but Jaune … he was just so normal, so ordinary, it defied belief that he could be more than what he seemed, more than what he was.

Not that there was anything wrong with being ordinary, but one hoped — or certainly, Sunset hoped — that those who were touched by royal blood, those whose brows were graced by a crown, or at least were fitted by their birth and heritage to be so, might be something a little more.

Wouldn’t it be funny?

No, as it turned out, no, it wouldn’t.

Not least because someone had believed in this so strongly that they’d gone out and committed two murders in consequence and had to be put down like a dog by their best friend, which kind of sucked a lot of the humour out of the situation.

It left Sunset feeling a little queasy, to tell the truth.

One might say, of course, and rightly so, that that was just the action of one man, one bitter, lonely man who had — by the testimony of his own friend and partner — not been in the best state of mind to begin with. Everyone knew about Pyrrha’s heritage and nobody had yet gone on a killing spree to try and put her on the throne.

And if one were to say that, Sunset would have to concede that it was fair enough.

Yet even so…

She supposed that she ought to have expected that it would be something like this. It would, after all, have to be something pretty big to drive one man to kill, to drive another to be desperate to keep it a secret. A shady past might make one ashamed, the revelation that your ancestor had been a brigand, a cutthroat, or a pirate might make you desperate to bury the past, but if someone did happen to find out those things, they would hardly drive them to try and break you up with the girl you loved, to kill that girl when persuasion didn’t work, and then turn those weapons upon an elected Councillor.

Although that did raise the question of why Carrot Arc had been so adamant about wanting Crown to keep it quiet. Why? Why had it bothered him so?

Just as importantly, had his grandfather known when he decided to leave his past behind?

Sunset doubted that she would ever know the answer to that — so perhaps it wasn’t that important — but if she had to make a guess on the first question … that was also difficult. Perhaps he simply didn’t want the fuss? Perhaps he wanted a normal life, a life where he was free to go about his business, to do as he wished without people expecting something of him, wanting something of him, requiring something of him? To be free to court Delphi without people insisting that she wasn’t good enough for him.

Perhaps he really didn’t want the throne and hadn’t wanted any excuse for anyone to offer it to him. Perhaps he believed in democracy and wanted to give it a chance to flourish without a king in waiting hanging around like a bad smell.

Perhaps he had been worried about what people might do to keep him off the throne, even if he had not foreseen what Crown would do to get him onto it.

Perhaps … Sunset was a monarchist — she believed in monarchy — but at the same time, she could not help but recall the times when she had stood at Princess Celestia’s side during the Grand Galloping Gala and noticed, as no one who was not as close to the princess as she had been would notice, the tiredness on her face, the weariness in her eyes as she greeted an endless parade of little ponies come to kiss her hoof.

Indeed, for all that there could have been and could be no better ruler for Equestria than Princess Celestia, nevertheless, Sunset had sometimes thought that her old teacher did not actually enjoy the exercise of government very much. Perhaps Carrot Arc had had a vision of his future and recoiled from it.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps; all unknowables, the secrets of the souls of men long dead and dust.

Sunset could not say what they had intended, these men who had lived generations earlier.

Nor, more to the point, could she say entirely what she intended now.

Of course, this was not proof. It was a drawing of a sword, a drawing made when the sword itself had been lost — although the accuracy of the drawing suggested it was based on earlier illustrations drawn from the life — and, thanks to Cinder, Crocea Mors would probably not resemble itself quite so much when it had been reforged.

And even if one were satisfied that they were, in fact, the same sword, well, it was a sword, after all. Sunset bore Soteria, but that did not make her a Nikos or a Kommenos. Blades could pass from one hand to the other; who was to say how the Arcs had come by it? It would take more than that to prove that Jaune Arc was the descendant of Jaune of Gaunt, and even if he were, the Gaunt claim to the Valish throne — resting as it did upon the marriage of Gaunt’s son, Hal, to his cousin Philippa, a granddaughter of Edward Farstrider via his second son, Lionel, thus making Hal and Philippa’s son a descendant of King Edward from both his second and fourth sons — had been contested even when it had been pressed, and there was no legal or historical consensus on whether or not descent through the female line ‘counted’ in succession terms.

But, with the throne vacant, the last king having died childless after already renouncing his power, and with all of the possible claimants being what one might call tenuous in their claims, one could do worse than a descendant of Edward Farstrider, the first king of a united Vale.

But still, not proof. Sunset found herself hoping that Crown D’Eath had found something more than this, if only because a drawing of a sword was a poor reason to take two lives.

She checked the ledgers, sweeping over the pages looking for further instances of Crown D’Eath’s name.

As she had suspected, he had looked at genealogies, no doubt tracing the descent of the line of Gaunt and seeing if he could make it meet up in the middle with the line of Arc … somehow.

Presumably, he had done that to his own satisfaction, and done so to sufficient extent that Carrot Arc’s reaction had been to tell him to keep it to himself instead of laughing it off or pointing out mistakes.

Nevertheless, Sunset wasn’t sure that she wanted to know exactly how he had done that.

Just as she wasn’t sure what she was going to do next.

Jaune Arc, the heir to the throne of Vale.

Possibly, at least. Maybe more than possibly, if she were to look into it as Crown had, if she were to retrace his steps up to the point there started to be blood in the footprints.

And then what? Tell Lady Nikos? That, after all, was the entire point of the exercise. Not to put Jaune on the throne, not to satisfy Sunset’s curiosity, not to tell Jaune himself anything about his past, but to prove to Lady Nikos that here was a man whose birth made him worthy of her daughter.

Tell Lady Nikos that a sword, and a drawing of a sword, and possibly some genealogical research made Jaune a claimant to the Valish throne. And then … what? Sunset was not above the idea of a little deception of Lady Nikos for the sake of Jaune and Pyrrha — she owed Lady Nikos much, and liked her more than Pyrrha did, but she owed more loyalty to Pyrrha and Jaune than she did to her noble patron, and in any case, she thought that a lie that would help Lady Nikos save face in the salons and drawing rooms of Mistral, a lie that would help her retreat from her hostility to Jaune with some shreds of dignity intact, was precisely what Lady Nikos had been looking for — but she would not have told this particular lie, for all that she joked about it. She would not have told that lie because it was too obvious a lie, the sort of lie that would be instantly disbelieved by all, the sort of lie that would compound Lady Nikos’ humiliations in society instead of relieving them.

The sort of lie that would not help matters.

Truth though it might be, Sunset couldn’t see how this would help matters either. Yes, if Jaune had a claim on the Valish throne, that would make him a fitting consort to the Princess Without a Crown, but the problem was that … well, it sounded like a lie. It sounded like a barefaced lie, the kind that provoked instant scepticism.

Which meant it sort of defeated the object of the exercise.

What was Sunset supposed to do? Tell Lady Nikos, who could tell it to all her friends — or at least her acquaintances amongst Mistral’s noble families — and then have Jaune’s life and the lives of his family turned upside down as people turned over his family history to confirm it?

A fine team leader she would be to subject him to that.

It occurred to Sunset that, if more people did head up to Alba Longa and start poking around Jaune’s family history, then there was a chance that Ruben’s faked photos and the whole business of Pyrrha apparently kissing another man might come out.

After all, recent events were proving that there was some audience for people who wanted a reason or an excuse to think ill of Pyrrha.

The more Sunset thought about it, the more Sunset found that there were plenty of reasons to keep quiet about all of this and, really, very few reasons not to.

Saying anything, even if she were to wait until she had as much evidence as Crown D’Eath had had … what good would it do Jaune, or Pyrrha, or even Lady Nikos?

It might help Jaune to be known as somebody when he and Pyrrha inevitably went to live in Mistral, but again, to be known as someone who had tried to pretend to be somebody might be even worse than being thought a nobody.

And that was even without getting into the issue of just to what extent, if at all, Lady Nikos deserved to have her pride salved in such a way after how she’d behaved.

Sunset blinked. That was definitely a Pyrrha thought, one left over from Sunset’s use of her semblance upon her.

Even so, what was not a Pyrrha thought was the possibility that, Pyrrha having made her choice, Lady Nikos should just accept it with as much grace as she could muster. Sometimes, after all, you simply had to bow before the inevitable, and the love that Pyrrha had for Jaune, the love that they shared, was as inevitable as the tide.

And that was before you circled right back around to the fact that someone had killed over this. Someone had killed, and someone had died.

At some point, the footsteps she was following had blood in them.

Sunset was Lady Nikos’ … her client, you might say, after the old meaning. Lady Nikos was her patron and her benefactor. But Jaune and Pyrrha were Sunset’s teammates and her friends; she was their leader, and she was bound to them by ties of loyalty, honour, one might even say duty.

One might say that she had already taken her loyalty to Jaune and Pyrrha too far, but that being the case, taking it to the extent of keeping this little secret didn’t seem like such a big deal.

In fact, it seemed downright harmless. Especially when one considered the alternative.

Pyrrha had not fallen in love with a prince. Well, quite possibly she had, and even moreso when you added in the possible metaphorical meanings of the word, but leave that alone for now, and just … she hadn’t fallen in love with a prince, okay? She had fallen in love with a nice boy, who she thought maybe could be a prince with her help.

That was all she wanted, and it wasn’t as if Jaune was consumed with a burning desire to know all the secrets of his past either.

If neither of them wanted to know, then … what profit in bringing it up?

And when you considered that the generations of Arc men who came before had intentionally — in Carrot’s case, at least, Bohemund’s motives being opaque — wanted to keep this a secret, well then … who was Sunset Shimmer to argue?

It wasn’t as though she was committed to the principle of absolute truth, after all. She had no issue with secrets; she only disagreed with whether some secrets ought to be kept.

That being the case…

Sunset shut the book. Let it lie and let Lady Nikos suffer her disappointment. No doubt, like a true aristocrat, she would bear it stoically.

Else Sunset would have to bear her disappointment.

She put the book back on the shelf, put the ledgers back where Tukson could find them, and stepped outside to get out her scroll.

Sunset was about to call Lady Nikos, when she started to wonder if it might seem a little premature. After all, it had only been this morning that she had told Lady Nikos that she still had leads to pursue.

So she would let it lie for a little while, and then tell Lady Nikos that she had come up empty.

That way she wouldn’t be seen — or presumed — to have intentionally slacked off.

She kept her scroll out, though, because there was someone else, another keeper of secrets, to whom she wanted to send a message.

Sunset opened up her device and messaged Professor Ozpin, asking if the team might not have a moment of his time that evening.


“Hello again,” Pyrrha said, as she stepped through the doorway and back into the dorm room.

“Hey, Pyrrha,” Ruby said from where she and Jaune sat at the desk that ran along the wall; their heads had been bowed, huddled together upon their work, but now, Ruby looked up at her. “How did it go with Yang?”

Pyrrha blinked. “She hasn’t been to see you?”

Ruby’s face fell. “No. No, she hasn’t.”

“In which case, she’s probably waiting for you to apologise,” Pyrrha said. “And … in all honesty, Ruby, it’s hard to argue that you shouldn’t, but I’m sure that she will be in a receptive mood to hear your apology.”

“But I still have to say I’m sorry,” Ruby muttered.

“You did keep some things from her which she had a right to know,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“Only because Professor Ozpin—”

“I know,” Pyrrha assured her. “I know, and I do not deny that you were put in a difficult position. But from Yang’s perspective … I think that to come to you would be tantamount to an admission that she was wrong in her upset and her reactions, and that … that is not a step that she is prepared to take.”

“Come on, Ruby,” Jaune added. “Is it really that hard to tell her your sorry?”

“Just because it’s easy doesn’t mean that I like doing it,” Ruby grumbled. “But … I guess it isn’t. And you think if I do that then it’ll all be over.”

“I am sure it will,” Pyrrha assured her. “Yang … your sister loves you very much.”

Ruby nodded. “Okay then,” she said. “I’ll go and talk to her.”

This apparently did not mean that she would go and talk to Yang right this instant, because she made no move to get up from her chair next to Jaune.

Pyrrha took a few more steps into the dorm room. “How are you two getting on?”

“Pretty well, I think,” Jaune said, turning his chair around on the carpet so that he was facing her. “I’m going to keep my sword basically the way it is, so that all of the training that we’ve been doing so far isn’t wasted, but I’m also going to incorporate dust to give myself more options.”

“I see,” Pyrrha said. “That makes sense.”

She only used dust in the most ordinary way, as a propellant; she’d found that she had no more use for it than that, and in any case, it would have been very hard to incorporate additional uses into her fighting style; she couldn’t imagine any way in which she could have used dust based on the way she fought now. But Jaune, still at the beginning of his journey as he was in so many ways, was still free to make that choice and make that move if he so wished, and since he was not so well trained as she was, the addition of dust’s power — and its versatility — might be a boon for him.

“Are you going to augment the sword and the shield or just the sword?”

“Just the sword,” Jaune explained. “I thought about upgrading the shield too, but it didn’t really work out when we were throwing ideas around. But with Ruby’s help, I think that I’ll be able to use the sword to project fire dust, or ice, or the most common types of dust that I could get hold of easily and at the right price.”

“You don’t have to worry about the money,” Pyrrha told him. “I could—”

“I don’t want to mooch off you,” Jaune said.

“We’re in a relationship; it’s hardly … mooching,” Pyrrha said, the word sounding a little strange on her tongue.

“But the more expensive kinds of dust are also the harder to come by,” Jaune pointed out. “I don’t want to rely on something that I can’t get hold of.”

That was a very good point, a very wise point. “Yes, you’re right, of course,” Pyrrha said. In any case, she didn’t want to push him on this particular subject, not when there might have to be some pushing of a different sort in just a moment.

She looked around the dorm room. There was no sign of Sunset, there was obviously no sign of Sunset, and yet in any case, Pyrrha asked, “Sunset isn’t back yet?”

“No, not yet,” Jaune said. “Did you want her?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha admitted, “but it might be easier to begin without her.” She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as much as her tight cuirass would allow. “After I spoke to Yang, I gave some thought to my situation with the allegations made by … by Phoebe.”

“You agree that it was her?” Jaune asked.

“I ran into her on the way to speak to Yang,” Pyrrha said.

“Did she admit it?” asked Ruby.

“Not in as many words,” Pyrrha replied. “In any case, even if the allegations were made by someone else, it really doesn’t matter, because I have decided what I am … what I can do about them.”

“Really?” Ruby asked. “What is it?”

Pyrrha kept her eyes fixed on Jaune, even as her right hand began to play with the vambrace upon her left arm. “I … I intend … I mean to challenge Cinder, publicly, to single combat. This will, I hope, prove that we are not on the same side. How can we be, if I am willing to duel her to the death?”

She was quite glad that Sunset wasn’t in the room at the moment — for all that it meant that she would have to do this over again — because she was reasonably certain that Sunset’s reaction would have been very loud. Instead, in the dorm room at this moment, there was silence.

Although, as the silence went on, Pyrrha found that she wasn’t sure if that was actually that much better.

“Jaune?” she murmured.

Jaune did not meet her eyes. He did, however, get to his feet. One hand rested upon the wooden surface of the desk.

“'Publicly'?” he repeated. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Pyrrha replied, “that I’m going to make a video containing my challenge — as well as a denial of all the allegations — and ask for Arslan’s help getting it on the news. She has a few media connections that I’m hoping she will let me make use of.”

“In Vale?” asked Jaune.

“No, in Mistral,” Pyrrha said. “It’s important — to me, at least — that people in my home know what I have done and how I have responded to this.”

“That won’t help it reach Cinder, though, will it?” Jaune pointed out.

The fact that he was concerned that her message might not reach its intended recipient gave Pyrrha hope that he was not completely and adamantly opposed to the idea.

“I was just going to send it to the news programs here in Vale and hope that they found it interesting enough to play it,” she admitted. After all, as far as she was aware, Arslan didn’t have any connections here in Vale, so there wasn’t much else that she could do.

“They probably will,” Jaune said quietly, “just because it’s such a strange thing to happen. I mean, it’s not very often these days that you get someone wanting to air their challenge to a duel on TV.”

His words might have been amusing, but there was no trace of amusement in his voice. Overall, Pyrrha was left confused about what he thought.

“I … I know that I made you a promise,” Pyrrha said, “and I know that if I were to have simply done this thing, then I would have been breaking that promise, but … two people cannot fight in single combat, any more than two people can fight in the one on one round of the Vytal Festival—”

“Nobody dies in the Vytal Festival. It’s not the same thing.”

The words, spoken in a harsh tone, did not come from Jaune. They came from Ruby.

Ruby, who was glaring at Pyrrha with her silver eyes, her silver eyes which shone brightly.

“Ruby—”

“I don’t believe this,” Ruby cut Pyrrha off, her voice rising. “After the way that you’ve treated me? After the way that you’ve talked to me?”

“Ruby—”

“All those times when I was willing to give my life, it was for something!” Ruby cried, leaping up off her seat. “It was for the greater good, it was for Vale, it was for innocent civilian lives; what are you prepared to die for, your pride? Your reputation?”

Pyrrha found herself forced to look away. There was, in truth, much force in Ruby’s words; not enough force to sway her from her course, but enough to make her feel somewhat ashamed of herself and her past conduct.

“I have to do this,” she said softly.

“Why?” Ruby demanded. “Why does it matter so much what other people think about you that you’d risk your life fighting Cinder, alone, when you don’t have to?”

“Cinder is our enemy,” Pyrrha pointed out. “If I have the opportunity to kill her—”

“Yes, we’d be better off if she were gone, and so would Remnant,” Ruby agreed, “but you’re not talking about hunting her down as a team, or even finding out where she is so that we can tell Professor Ozpin or General Ironwood and they can take care of her; you’re talking about fighting her all by yourself. It’s Mistr—” She cut herself off this time, covering her mouth with one hand.

Despite herself, Pyrrha found a slight smile playing upon the corners of her lips. “Don’t hold back on my account,” she said.

Ruby blinked. “It’s Mistralian nonsense,” she said.

“Yes, yes, I suppose it is,” Pyrrha said. “Or at least, I suppose that many of our traditions must seem like nonsense to those who are not raised in them.”

“It’s a waste,” Ruby insisted. “What you’re talking about is just wasteful. It’s one thing to die for something — that’s something that we should all be ready to do as huntsmen — but to die for nothing? To die because you’re too stubborn not to, because you’re too proud … that’s a waste of … of your life and of all the good that you could do.”

“Did not Olivia die for her pride?” Pyrrha asked.

“Yes, but I never said that she was right about that; you just assumed I agreed with her and then gave me a hard time about it!” Ruby snapped.

“For which I owe you an apology, clearly,” Pyrrha murmured, “but this isn’t just about my pride, Ruby, or my reputation. If that were all that were at stake, then I would agree with you that it did not justify what I am proposing.”

Ruby frowned. “Then what is it about?”

“Me,” Pyrrha said. “My place in all of this and the feeling that I am … I don’t belong here,” she admitted.

Ruby’s frown only deepened. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t have your silver eyes, with which you can vanquish whole grimm armies in a moment!” Pyrrha cried. “I don’t have Sunset’s magic, which seems to constantly grow stronger and more versatile. I do not even have a semblance which lets me act as an invaluable support to my teammates. I am … I am a warrior. A skilled warrior, perhaps, but what of that? It is clear why Professor Ozpin chose Sunset, why he chose you, but I … Professor Ozpin could find a dozen in the halls of this school who can do the things that I can do.”

“You don’t need magic to play your part,” Ruby declared.

“With respect, Ruby, that is easy to say when you have magic,” Pyrrha replied.

“The first Maidens didn’t need magic to save the old wizard,” Ruby pointed out.

“And then they were rewarded with great magical power so that they might save the world,” Pyrrha responded. “But if there is one thing that I can do… if I can vanquish Salem’s champion, then at least I will prove to myself I have a part to play. You speak of waste? The waste will be if I refuse an opportunity to lay these doubts to rest and instead let them fester until they consume me. Then I will be no good to you or anyone else.”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “You … you really feel useless?”

“Or something close to it,” Pyrrha said quietly.

“For how long?”

“It started after we found out the truth about Salem,” Pyrrha replied. “It got worse after Mountain Glenn.”

“I see,” Ruby murmured. “I think you’re wrong, but I see. But all the same—”

“I don’t like this,” Jaune said, cutting Ruby off, although whether that was his intent or it had simply taken him that long to find something to say, Pyrrha could not tell.

“Jaune?” Pyrrha murmured.

“I don’t like this,” Jaune repeated. He looked at her, his brow furrowed, his jaw set. “But … but you’ve always believed in me, so now … when you need someone to believe in you, how can I not be that person? If you think that you can beat Cinder one on one, then go for it. No one has the right to stand in your way.”

It was the best response from him that she could have hoped for, and although Pyrrha had not been holding her breath, nevertheless, she felt a breath escaping her, a sigh of relief falling from her lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The door into the dorm room opened with a click, and the person who might feel as though she had a right to stand in Pyrrha’s way walked in, head bowed, looking down at the scroll she was holding in one hand.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said.

Sunset glanced up at her, one hand reaching for the door. “Hey, Pyrrha,” she muttered. “How, um, how did it go with Yang?”

“Well enough, I think,” Pyrrha answered. “I believe that if Ruby—”

“Pyrrha’s going to challenge Cinder to a duel!” Ruby cried.

“Ruby,” Pyrrha murmured reproachfully, glancing at Ruby over her shoulder.

“I might not be able to talk you out of this, but Sunset can,” Ruby declared.

Sunset herself slammed the door shut with an audible crack. “I must be getting wax in my ears,” she said in a voice that was as sharp as Soteria, “because I could have sworn that I just heard Ruby say you were going to challenge Cinder to a duel. But that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it?”

“It … might seem so, if you were not a Mistralian,” Pyrrha admitted, “but nevertheless, that is what I intend.”

Sunset stared at her for a moment. Without breaking eye contact, she flung her scroll onto her bed, its contents seeming forgotten.

“You … you are going to challenge Cinder to fight you in a duel?” she repeated. “To the death, I presume.”

“I am not sure she would accept any other form of duel,” Pyrrha said. “And we are enemies, after all.”

“I’m aware of that, that’s why…” Sunset trailed off. “Why?”

“To prove to the world that she and I are not colluding together,” Pyrrha said, “and to prove to myself that I can beat her.”

“To prove … this is how you deal with your misgivings?”

“Can you think of a better way?” asked Pyrrha. “You cannot speak away my doubts, but victory … victory will exorcise them all. If I can best her, I need not doubt my worth. If Cinder is worthy to serve Salem and I am her superior in arms, then … how can my right be doubted?”

“None doubt it now but you,” Sunset pointed out.

“None need be more free of doubt in this than I,” Pyrrha replied.

Sunset frowned. “How are you even—?”

“I will issue my challenge publicly, on the news,” Pyrrha said. “An unorthodox way of delivering it, to be sure, but I feel it will reach Cinder, and once it reaches her, she will respond.”

“Yes, yes, she certainly will,” Sunset murmured. “This … this is madness. You must realise that, please, tell me that you realise that; I mean … what do you think this is, The Mistraliad?”

“You have yourself—”

“This isn’t like fighting Bolin in the arena over who gets to keep a sword, or the two of us settling our differences while Professor Goodwitch plays referee; we’re talking about life or death here!” Sunset yelled. “Your life … your … your death, maybe.”

“I intend to return alive and victorious,” Pyrrha murmured.

“But you can’t guarantee that you will.”

“Nothing is certain in battle, no,” Pyrrha admitted.

Sunset walked towards her, swiftly closing the distance between them until she could reach out and placed her gloved hands on Pyrrha’s bare shoulders.

The silk was soft on Pyrrha’s skin.

Sunset’s eyes were wide as she looked into Pyrrha’s face. “She hates you,” she whispered. “I have felt her hatred for you.”

“And that hatred is why I shall win,” Pyrrha declared. “Cinder is … strong, yes, swift, undoubtedly, but she has had no training, that is certain. She fights … clumsily, brutally, without skill, and only the fact that she is so strong and so swift allows her to get away with it. But I have been trained by Chiron himself; I am the Champion of Mistral.” For a few more days yet; this year’s tournament would be starting very soon, and she would lose the right to that proud boast forever. “In the open field, with no tricks that she can play, I will prevail.”

‘Virtue ‘gainst Fury shall advance the fight,

And in the combat then shall put to flight,

For the ancient valous is not dead,

Nor in Mistralian hearts extinguished.’

I hope it will be so, at least.

Sunset turned away from her, her tail swishing and flicking behind her. “I must confess, that is more thought than I thought you had put into this,” she conceded.

“I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult,” Pyrrha said.

Sunset ignored that, cupping her chin with one hand. “I … I don’t want to lose you,” she said, half turning her head to glance at Pyrrha over her shoulder. “But … but, as someone once reminded me not too long ago, people have the right to make their own stupid choices, don’t they, Ruby?”

Ruby made a wordless grumbling sound.

“Mmm, yeah,” Sunset said. She turned back to face Pyrrha once again. “But,” she said, “it may be that I — that we — do not have the right to stop you. But you have pledged yourself into Professor Ozpin’s service; you are at his disposal. He at least should be informed of this, don’t you think?”

Because if you can’t stop me, then he can? Pyrrha thought. Nevertheless, whatever her particular motives might be for this, Sunset was not wrong. She did owe Professor Ozpin her service, which meant that she owed him an explanation before she took this step.

“Very well,” she said. “I will speak to Professor Ozpin.”

“You can do it tonight,” Sunset said, waving one hand, wreathed in green light, as she summoned her scroll off the bed and into her hand. “By a stroke of luck, he has agreed to meet with us.”

“To discuss the Maidens?” Pyrrha asked.

“He doesn’t know that yet, but yes,” Sunset agreed. “Except now you’ll have something else to discuss with him also.”


“I don’t know whether you’ll be glad to know this, although you might be,” Sunset said as the elevator ascended upwards, “but I’ve stopped looking into your family, Jaune.”

The lift continued to rise, carrying the four members of Team SAPR up towards Professor Ozpin’s office. The headmaster had agreed to see them with … well, perhaps it wasn’t remarkable alacrity, but he had certainly shown a surprising willingness, considering that Sunset hadn’t even told him what it was that they wanted to see him about.

He might not feel so willing to talk once they actually got up there and he found out what it was that they wanted to talk about.

Either of the things they wanted to talk about.

But for now, the lift rose up, carrying the four of them within it.

Sunset and Pyrrha stood at the front, with Ruby and Jaune behind; Sunset looked over her shoulder at Jaune, to see how he was taking the news.

He didn’t look particularly upset about it, although he did look a little confused. “But, I thought you said—”

“It didn’t pan out,” Sunset told him. “I thought that there would be something, a trail to follow, but … there wasn’t.” She smirked. “It turns out that you are depressingly ordinary.”

“'Ordinary'?” Pyrrha repeated, reaching behind her to take Jaune’s hand. “No, hardly that.”

“Would you prefer ‘unremarkable’?” Sunset asked.

Pyrrha looked at her, eyebrows rising into the recesses of her bangs.

“Just kidding,” Sunset assured. “Nevertheless, the point is … there was nothing to find. You don’t have a notable ancestry that I can uncover.”

“Except for the fact that your father and grandfather were both huntsmen,” Ruby pointed out. “And your great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather both fought to defend the Kingdom of Vale. That’s not nothing. In fact, I’d say that’s pretty cool. Cooler than having rich ancestors or snob ancestors or anything like that. No offence, Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “None taken, Ruby; I think that many of my ancestors would agree with you; that is why we of the Nikos family have always striven to earn our great privilege and high status through service in war.” She paused for a moment. “But Ruby speaks the truth, even before you also consider that your great-grandfather founded a town, brought a whole community together.”

“Did he?” Ruby asked. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Jaune shrugged. “It didn’t come up.”

“The point is that you already have plenty of family history to be proud of,” Ruby insisted. “And if Pyrrha’s mom can’t see that, then—”

“My mother may feel as she likes,” Pyrrha declared. “As may I. To be honest, I hope you don’t mind me saying that I’m rather glad that things have turned out this way.”

“'Glad'?” Jaune asked.

Pyrrha paused for a moment. “This … this may sound a little petty of me,” she confessed, “but I would have, not hated it, but I would certainly have been a little vexed if you had turned out to have a claim upon some ancient lordship or the like, if your family heritage had been such that my mother could have approved of. It would have felt a little as though she had won.”

Despite the fact that, by that logic, there was a sense in which Lady Nikos had won — not that she would ever be aware of it — Sunset couldn’t help but snort. “Would that have been such a bad thing?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said softly. “Yes, I rather think it would. Mother … my mother needs to accept my choice. My choice over my life and to whom I give my heart. Having you fortuitously discover for her that my choice aligned with her desires all along would…”

“Defeat the object?” Sunset suggested.

“Jaune is not an object,” Pyrrha replied.

“No,” Sunset agreed. “No, he isn’t.”

Nevertheless, she felt as though she understood Pyrrha’s meaning, even if the latter couldn’t quite put it into words.

She returned her attention to Jaune, “So, how do you feel about this? I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a title or a claim on a pile of treasure or something.”

Jaune chuckled. “I—”

“Please don’t say something like ‘I already have the greatest treasure I could ask for’ or something,” Sunset begged.

“I mean, it’s true,” Jaune said.

“I know it’s true; doesn’t mean that we have to hear it,” Sunset replied, although she couldn’t help but smile at the colour that appeared on Pyrrha’s cheeks. “Seriously, though, how do you feel about it?”

Jaune shrugged. “I don’t really see that it makes much difference. I’m still me. I guess I would have still been me no matter what you found, but since you didn’t find anything … I’m still me, Jaune Arc. And I don’t have a problem with that.”

Well, you’ll never achieve greatness with an attitude like that, Sunset thought, but it seems to be working out okay for you so far.

And greatness is overrated anyway. Why seek it when you can be happy instead?

“So,” she said, “how do we want to approach this?”

“We ask Professor Ozpin about Maidens,” Ruby said.

“I mean, yes, that is what we’re here to do,” Sunset conceded. “But how?”

Ruby paused for a moment. “We ask him about Maidens,” she said again.

“Ruby is right,” Pyrrha added. “There is no reason not to be direct about this. What other approach could we adopt?”

That was a good point. Still, Sunset said, “Do we want to tell him about Raven?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Ruby asked.

“I suppose that’s a ‘yes’ then,” Sunset said. “I just wondered if you wanted to keep it to yourself.”

“He must know already,” Jaune pointed out. “It’s not like Professor Goodwitch wouldn’t have told him.”

“She doesn’t know what Raven said to Ruby and Yang, exactly, but fair enough,” Sunset murmured. She took a deep breath. “Okay, straight up it is, in every sense.”

“Although,” Jaune went on, “what are we actually going to do once we know the truth?”

Sunset glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, say that Professor Ozpin tells us that we’re right, that the Four Maidens are the four girls from the fairy tale and everything else, that Auburn and Merida from Ruby’s Mom’s journal were Maidens … so what? What does it mean for us, what are we supposed to do once we know that?”

“It’s a bit late to bring that up now, I must say,” Sunset replied, “but in answer to your question, we’re not supposed to do anything. We’re supposed to know.”

“To know for what reason?” Jaune asked. “To what end?”

“To the end of understanding,” Pyrrha said, in a voice as gentle as an autumn breeze. “Understanding where the Maidens fit into all else that we already know of, where they fit into this struggle that we are a part of, understanding—”

“Why they’re kept secret,” Sunset said.

“Why they are not used,” Pyrrha replied. “I can understand the secrecy from the rest of Remnant, in the same way that all else is kept secret, but … if Professor Ozpin has four Maidens at his command, why does he need us?”

Sunset frowned. Pyrrha … I really wish that I could have found a way to give you your confidence back that didn’t involve giving Cinder that rematch.

And yet, now that the issue had been raised, Sunset found herself honestly unsure whether she wanted Professor Ozpin to deny Pyrrha’s desire or not. Yes, Pyrrha could die, but Pyrrha believed that she could win, and if she did, then a great shadow would be lifted from her spirit.

And Cinder would be dead.

You can hardly say it isn’t a fate she deserves.

Is that really the point?

If it is not, then … okay, I admit, I don’t really want to see Cinder, but a choice between her and Pyrrha is no choice at all.

I will choose Pyrrha, every time.

Even if Pyrrha chooses to venture beyond my aid.

“Because the Maidens could die,” Ruby said.

“Thanks, Ruby, for making it sound as though we’re expendable,” Sunset said as Ruby’s words recalled her to the present moment.

“I didn’t,” Ruby replied. “That’s not what I … I shouldn’t have said that; it was a terrible choice of words. What I meant was … the worst thing that could happen to us is that we die. The worst thing that could happen to one of the Maidens is that they die and someone like Cinder ends up with their powers. You get how that’s worse, right?”

“Indeed so,” Pyrrha said, bowing her head slightly.

Sunset did not answer; rather, in her silence, she glanced back at Jaune, who also said nothing.

She hoped that he was thinking the same thing she was: worse than Pyrrha being dead, or Ruby?

Judging by the frown on his face, she guessed that he was, if not actively thinking that way, then at the very least considering the possibility.

Fortunately, Ruby took her silence to be implied agreement, or at least to be the absence of active disagreement, and so she didn’t press Sunset — or Jaune, for that matter — upon the point.

But when Sunset thought about their dead bodies, about their lifeless eyes staring, imploring … it didn’t seem obviously better to her than some magical powers going to someone foul.

That wouldn’t be good, obviously, but would it be so much worse as to be worth their lives?

If Sunset could have convinced herself of that, they’d all be dead already.

She was spared from having to think of that any further by the opening of the elevator doors, admitting them into Professor Ozpin’s office. It was dark outside, night having fallen, but the office itself was bathed in a soft green glow which matched Professor Ozpin’s attire as he sat behind his desk.

There were no chairs, nor in this instance was there a pot of cocoa — or anything else — to be seen; there was only Professor Ozpin, sat behind his desk, looking at something on the screen in front of him.

As the four students entered, Professor Ozpin looked up at them; the light was not so bright that his expression could easily be discerned.

The four students spread into a line facing the headmaster: first Sunset, then Ruby, then Pyrrha, then Jaune at the far end.

“Professor,” Sunset said. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us.”

“Not at all, and good evening to you,” Professor Ozpin said, his tone light and genial. “Miss Nikos, I’m not sure that I should be meeting with you without a bodyguard present.”

Pyrrha gasped. “Professor, I assure you that whatever is—”

“Forgive me, Miss Nikos, that was an attempt at humour, and clearly a poor one at that,” Professor Ozpin said apologetically. “I should have considered … rest assured, I know where your loyalties lie.”

Pyrrha glanced away, clutching at her right wrist with her left hand. “I … that is good to hear, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin got up. “Does it trouble you?” he asked.

“To be so spoken of, Professor?” Pyrrha asked. “Should it not trouble me? Or do you counsel me that my reputation should be a thing of no concern to me, irrelevant?”

“It may seem like a mere bromide, Miss Nikos, but I do believe that a clear conscience can be a salve against the hostility of the world,” Professor Ozpin said softly. “I myself have found it so, at times.”

Pyrrha looked at him. “Surely … your reputation is beyond reproach, Professor.”

“As you are discovering, Miss Nikos, even a reputation that is beyond reproach can be sullied by gossip and rumour,” Professor Ozpin replied, his voice low, as low as the lights in his office were dim.

Professor Ozpin walked around his desk, approaching the four students, approaching Pyrrha specifically.

Sunset had not quite appreciated how unnaturally tall Professor Ozpin was — he did spend an awful lot of time sitting down — until she saw him closing the distance with Pyrrha and beginning to loom over her.

He reached out and placed a hand upon Pyrrha’s bare shoulder.

“And yet, always, I have found that rumour and gossip melt away in the face of truth revealed in the eyes of the people. When the moment comes to show your quality, as I am sure you will, then all of these lies will be as morning dew, and no one will dare admit to having once believed them.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “I … I would have words with you, upon this matter, Professor, but … not now. After our other business is concluded, if you will.”

“Of course, Miss Nikos, you may say whatever you wish, in whatever order you wish,” Professor Ozpin said. He turned away and walked back to his desk, resuming his seat behind it, facing them.

“So,” he said, resting his hands upon the desk, clasped together, “what can I do for you this evening?”

Sunset glanced at Ruby, wondering if she wanted to take the lead — it was, after all, Raven’s visit to her that had started them off on this — but before she could, if she had even wanted to, Pyrrha took a step forward.

“If you will forgive us, Professor,” she said, “we were hoping to talk to you…” — she swallowed — “about Maidens.”

Professor Ozpin did not say anything for a moment. A sigh passed between his lips. “Yes, I thought that this might happen after Glynda told me about Raven’s latest visit. I understand that she gave you the name, but explained nothing.”

“That’s right,” Ruby murmured.

“But we’ve managed to work out a fair amount for ourselves,” Sunset added.

Professor Ozpin looked at her. “Is that so, Miss Shimmer? By all means, then, tell me what you know, or at least believe you know.”

“The Story of the Seasons,” Pyrrha began, “the fairy tale; it is more than just a story, isn’t it, Professor? It is the … the origin of the Maidens. How four women had great power bestowed upon them.”

“But the power did not die with them,” Sunset said. “Rather it was … passed on, somehow, so that there were always four Maidens at any given moment, and someone, whom we guess to be your predecessor, would find them and teach them and send them out into the world to do good works.”

“Just as the old man in the fairytale had charged the original sisters to share their gifts with the world,” Pyrrha murmured.

“But it didn’t last,” Sunset continued. “The Dark Mother — Salem, almost certainly — convinced the first Red Queen to kill one of the Maidens and take the power for herself.”

“She used it to strike down my ancestor, the Empress of Mistral, and ruled the city for a while as a tyrant,” Pyrrha said. “Until she died.”

“But by that point, the Maidens were being hunted down and killed for their powers all over Remnant,” Sunset said. “Until someone hunted down and killed the … the Red Queens. That was the work of this circle again, wasn’t it, Professor? Our predecessors, and yours, killed the Maidens, and I’m guessing they possibly became the new Maidens themselves in consequence. Either way, at that point, this group decided to start hiding them away.”

“So that they could be kept safe, and Salem’s agents couldn’t get to them,” Jaune added.

“Auburn and Merida, whom my mother and father met,” Ruby said. “They were Maidens, weren’t they?”

“And the woman who saved Twilight Sparkle and her family when they were attacked by grimm upon the road,” Sunset said. “Although … if the Maidens are allowed to interfere in such a way, I’m not sure why there aren’t more such stories.”

“With no insult intended to Miss Sparkle, that is not the kind of behaviour that I would have condoned,” Professor Ozpin admitted. “However, the Winter Maiden has always been possessed of a certain rebellious spirit.”

“The girl who sat outside the cottage, meditating and contemplating?” Pyrrha asked. “Rebellious?”

“An excellent point, Miss Nikos; that is a very poor choice of words,” Professor Ozpin allowed. “Say rather … after a certain point, the Winter Maiden acquired a greater sense of pride than dwells in the others; in consequence, they have often chafed more against the authority of the leaders of this circle than the others have.”

“I see,” Sunset said softly, even though she didn’t really. “So … how did we do, Professor?”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “Eight out of ten,” he said.

“Are you going to tell us what we got wrong, Professor?” Jaune asked.

“Perhaps,” Professor Ozpin said, reminding Sunset a little bit of why she hadn’t liked him very much at first. “It may be easiest to begin at the end. Miss Rose, you were correct in all but one minor detail: Auburn and Merida were not both Maidens when I sent your parents and Team Stark on that mission. Auburn was, as you have correctly surmised, the Fall Maiden, but Merida did not become so until Auburn’s death, not long after the mission.”

“Merida was … her successor?” Sunset asked. “You knew that already?”

“There are ways of ensuring it,” Professor Ozpin said, although he did not elaborate upon what those ways might be. “I wanted Auburn to be escorted to meet with Merida, and it seemed like a good opportunity to have someone whom I trusted evaluate Team Stark and their fitness to become a part of this struggle. I even considered if perhaps either Summer Rose or Raven Branwen might become a worthy Maiden themselves one day.”

“The Fall Maiden,” Pyrrha said. “And the Winter Maiden. So those were the names of the four sisters: Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall?”

Professor Ozpin rose from his chair and clasped his hands behind his back as he turned away from the students and walked towards the window. An Atlesian cruiser glided past, but from what Sunset could see of his reflection, Professor Ozpin seemed irritated by the stately motion of the airship, perhaps because it blocked his view out over Vale.

“Is that one of your favourite fairytales, Miss Nikos?” he asked.

“It is,” Pyrrha murmured. “It is kind and gentle, and it reminds us that it is never too late to reach out to someone … or to be reached out to.”

In his reflection in the glass, it almost seemed as if Professor Ozpin smiled. “Indeed, Miss Nikos, and what a valuable lesson that is.”

“Where did the magic come from, Professor?” Sunset asked.

“Does it matter, Miss Shimmer?” Professor Ozpin asked calmly. “Not from where you might think, or where you might fear, if that is your concern. The magic of the Maidens is nought to do with your world. Suffice to say that … that once upon a time, there was a wizard, an old man of great power but rather less wisdom … and still less resolve. He had lived long and suffered much; he had … suffered losses which hurt him, so that he preferred isolation to the possibility of pain’s return.”

“Until he met the four sisters,” Pyrrha said.

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “Indeed. Four sisters who just so happened to agree to rendezvous outside his cottage. Four sisters travelling Remnant, helping those in need however they could. Four sisters who taught him … so much that he had forgotten.”

“This story is passed down through your ranks, isn’t it, Professor?” Sunset asked. “Do you have his own account?”

Professor Ozpin glanced over his shoulder at her. “In a manner of speaking, Miss Shimmer, that is correct.” He paused for a moment. “The four sisters not only reinvigorated the wizard’s passion for life, but also by their actions, by their journey, his passion for doing good in the world. And yet, he saw in them, in their virtues, in their success, something that was superior to anything he now recognized in himself. And so—”

“And so he gave up his power, bestowing it upon the sisters instead,” Pyrrha said. “Because he recognized that they were worthy of it. I’m sorry, Professor; I—”

“Quite alright, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin assured her. “And quite correct. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall, the four sisters, and the four Maidens who from that day down to this have borne their names.”

“Why, Professor?” Ruby asked. “I mean, the four sisters in the fairy tale, they didn’t need their magic to help the old man, the wizard. It didn’t take magic to reach out to him, or to get him out of his house, or to show him to be thankful for the things that he had. What were they supposed to do as Maidens that they couldn’t do as just four ordinary girls?”

“Lead, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said. “Having bestowed his magic upon the four sisters, and despite having extracted from them all a promise that they would return and visit him again, the wizard left his cottage behind and returned to the world that he had turned his back upon. He founded this circle, took up the leadership of it, and gathered a few trusted, brave, like-minded individuals to stand with him and help him defend Remnant against the malice of Salem. But we work in shadows, and in secrecy, as you know. That was not the role he meant for the Maidens.

“You are correct, Miss Rose, that the original sisters had not needed magic in order to be kind or generous, in order to teach the aged wizard how to laugh once more. Or at least, they had not needed the magic that he bestowed upon them. But, though, as they were, they could help others whom they met upon their journeys, they could not command devotion, inspire loyalty, teach whole peoples by the spread of their word.

“An army is a symbol of strength, but also of conflict, for it is only conflict that creates the necessity of armies. A warrior can be a symbol of protection, but they are also symbols of violence, no matter who or what that violence is directed against; the very fact that they bear lethal weapons makes it so. But a Maiden, imbued with magic of many uses, able to fight but not existing for fighting … a Maiden could be a symbol of hope. It was the wizard’s intention that while he and his allies worked in the shadows, the four Maidens would be the light.”

“But it didn’t work out that way,” Jaune said. “Because … because of Salem.”

“Indeed,” Professor Ozpin said, in a voice that sounded more sad than angry. “Because of Salem. As you have guessed, Miss Shimmer, when the sources speak of the Dark Mother, they do, indeed, refer to Salem. It was she who first put into the head of a murderous bandit that she might acquire the powers of a Maiden by waylaying and murdering one of the Maidens, stealing and abusing the magic until what was meant to be a symbol of hope and inspiration became instead a symbol of terror and dominion.” Professor Ozpin’s voice shook. “Can you imagine, had the wizard lived long enough, how he would have felt, how he would have wept inside, to see his dream, his beautiful gift, perverted so by wicked, bloodstained hands?”

No, I cannot, but Princess Celestia might, Sunset thought, as she looked away. For if any has lived long enough to see such times, it is she.

Pyrrha clasped her hands together above her heart. “It must have been heartbreaking,” she whispered.

Professor Ozpin did not answer her. Rather, he said, “And so, as the power of the Maidens fell into the hands of evil, so, too, it fell to my predecessor to act. The Maidens had never been part of this circle’s struggle against Salem, but in addition to all other duties, it had been the responsibility of the head of this group to seek out new Maidens, to train them, and to instruct them in the duties that had been bestowed upon them. Now, as those unworthy to receive such a gift abused it, it was his responsibility to … to protect the world. Gathering his allies, he set out, and one by one, the unworthy Maidens were brought low, the powers passing into hands more worthy and trustworthy both alike.”

“And then he hid them away,” Sunset said.

Professor Ozpin turned to face her, to face all of them. “Do I detect a note of disapproval in your voice, Miss Shimmer?”

“Is disapproval such a strange response, Professor?” Sunset asked. “You said it yourself; the Maidens were intended to be the light, but you — or your predecessors, but you have continued their policy — have taken light out of the world. By your own words, you would rather the Winter Maiden had not stirred to rescued Twilight Sparkle and her family—”

“One girl’s life, however intelligent, however kind, however well-beloved she may be,” Professor Ozpin said, “or even the lives of a single family … they can never be worth more than exposing the secrets of the Maidens once again to the world, to Salem.”

I think that Rainbow Dash, for one, would disagree with you, Sunset thought. In the specific, if not the general.

“I do not believe it is worth the cost, Professor,” Sunset said.

“Does the past not clearly illustrate why the Maidens must be kept secret, Miss Shimmer?” Professor Ozpin asked. “If Salem’s agents—”

“Then guard them, Professor,” Sunset declared, taking a step forward. “Set a constant escort upon them as they got about their work, such as would attend upon the kings of old, but this … to hide them?”

“They are not confined in cloistered spaces, Sunset,” Pyrrha pointed out. “Auburn was free to go to seek out Merida, and the Winter Maiden was free to intervene to aid Twilight, as much as Professor Ozpin might disapprove.”

“I am not suggesting that they have been imprisoned,” Sunset clarified, “but even if they have their liberty … what good is their magic if all they do with it is hold onto it for fear of someone worse getting their hands on it?”

“That’s not the worst thing that they could do with it,” Jaune said.

“Yes,” Sunset snapped, “yes, it is. Magic that is not used is magic that may as well not exist at all, and worse than that, because they have to keep themselves safe and hidden, they’re not even allowed to use the non-magical gifts that they might possess. It’s like the four sisters not only hiding the magic that had been given to them, but also not even being able to help anyone the way that they helped the old man, because even letting them out of the house is too risky.”

“What would you have me do, Miss Shimmer?” asked Professor Ozpin. “What would you have the Maidens do?”

“All that they were empowered to do,” Sunset said. “Lead, inspire, encourage, illuminate; even my own people, who are, I daresay, spiritually superior to men in every way—”

“You dare say,” Jaune said dryly.

Sunset put one hand on her hip. “My people were not tearing our world to pieces in an existential war just four generations ago, so, yes, we are superior, excuse you.” She returned her attention to Professor Ozpin. “But even we, even my people, of whom I am, I must concede, a poor example of the qualities of which I boast, even we require … exemplars. Paragons. Those who are raised, literally elevated into the skies, to whom all the rest who walk upon the ground may look up and see that here is the essence of virtue, here is an example to heed and to follow.” She paused for a moment. “When the wizard bestowed the powers upon the first Maidens, did he know that they would endure following their deaths?”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “I am not entirely sure, Miss Shimmer; that particular detail is not recorded,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“Because, leaving aside the egregious flaw that one may kill a Maiden to obtain a Maiden’s powers,” Sunset said, “it strikes me the system of transfer, the system of ascension, is more fundamentally flawed still by the fact that powers can be bestowed before she on whom they are bestowed has done aught to earn them. To become an alicorn, as close as we have to what a Maiden was meant to be, one must first walk the path, one must demonstrate an understanding — a great and unparalleled understanding — of that which you will become princess of, one must do as those first four sisters did and earn the power and status that will accrue to you through virtue and accomplishment. The wizard blessed those sisters because they had earned a blessing and proved to him that they were worthy to wield his power … and yet, none of their successors are subject to such a test; it is just given to them. Even leaving aside Salem’s malice and her interference, it is a miracle that no Maiden proved unworthy of her office even before the murders started.”

Again, Professor Ozpin took pause before replying, “I will not deny that your point has some validity, Miss Shimmer,” he said. “And yet, I think you will agree that it is a little too late to do anything about it now.”

Sunset sighed. “I suppose so, Professor.”

“As for your other point,” Professor Ozpin went on, “I see the force in what you say, I believe that you believe it, but … I must admit that I am not convinced. My predecessors have kept the Maidens secret these many years and in secrecy … in secrecy, they have been kept safe. I will not risk … I will not take the risks that would accrue from changing that.”

He sat back down at his chair, behind his desk. “I do not begrudge having come by this information; you have thought about the information set before you, and you have drawn your conclusions from it; you have, in many ways, shown yourselves to be model students.” He chuckled softly. “Nevertheless, I hope that you understand that I do not propose to reveal the identities or the locations of the Maidens to you at this time, and I hope that I can count on your discretion in keeping these details to yourselves.”

“Does that include Team Rosepetal, Professor?” Sunset asked.

Professor Ozpin hesitated for a moment. “You may tell your Atlesian friends what you have learned, what we have discussed here tonight. And Miss Belladonna also.”

Well, I was kind of including her as part of Team RSPT, but thank you anyway.

“We will not tell a soul else, Professor,” Pyrrha vowed.

“Thank you, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin replied. “This information … even without the danger posed by Salem, if people knew that there existed in the world such great power … they would seek to use it, to take it for themselves, as the Red Queens did of old.”

“You don’t trust people to do the right thing?” Ruby asked, sounding a little disappointed.

“If all of the people could be trusted to do the right thing, to turn away from temptation, to renounce wrath, vengeance, or the desire for power, then Salem would have no followers, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin. “I believe in people, but it is naïve to forget that there are always a few in whom that faith is misplaced.” He paused. “Nevertheless, thank you for keeping my confidence. The time may come when you are ready to know more, but for now, I would bid you goodnight, save that Miss Nikos has something else she wishes to discuss with me.”

“Yes, Professor, thank you,” Pyrrha murmured, taking a step forwards ahead of the others. “It is about … the issue that you brought up earlier, the allegations made against me. I … I should like to answer them by challenging Cinder Fall to meet me in battle and thus prove to the world that she and I have no connection to one another but an adversarial one.

“I mean,” she said, speaking quickly as though she were afraid that if she stopped and allowed Professor Ozpin to speak, he might not let her finish, “to issue my challenge via the news in Vale, to ensure that it reaches Cinder, and in Mistral, to ensure that it reaches all those who might otherwise think ill of me. I believe that Cinder will accept, and I hope that she will reach out to Sunset as she did before our mission to Mountain Glenn, to arrange the location and time of our meeting.”

Professor Ozpin said nothing for a moment. What little light there was in the office glinted off his spectacles, momentarily concealing his eyes from view.

“I see,” he murmured. “That is … an interesting notion, Miss Nikos. May I ask, is this entirely for the purpose of protecting your reputation in Mistral?”

“No, Professor, I am not so vain as that,” Pyrrha replied. “But I am … I am…”

“You are troubled,” Professor Ozpin said.

Pyrrha bowed her head. “Yes, Professor. I feel … I feel as though I have little to contribute compared to my teammates.”

“Because you do not have magic, as they do?” Professor Ozpin asked.

Pyrrha looked up. “Precisely, Professor.”

“Miss Nikos, before Summer Rose arrived in Vale, these eyes of mine had never gazed upon a Silver-Eyed Warrior,” Professor Ozpin told her. “I knew of them, the knowledge had been passed down to me, but I assumed — as did my predecessors — that they were extinct, that Salem had hunted them down and killed them all. Of Equestrian servants, I have had none until Miss Shimmer; most visitors from her world have been more pain than blessing to Remnant, I must say. And yet, for these many years past, we of this little circle have held the line against Salem with nought but the same kind of skill and courage you possess.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “That may be so, Professor,” she conceded, “but nevertheless … perhaps it is vanity. Perhaps it is the fact that I have not covered myself in glory fit to match my elevated view of myself, but nevertheless … I do not feel … I must do this, not only — not even mostly — for the sake of my reputation here or in Mistral, but for the sake of my confidence. I wish to prove myself to myself, is that so ill?”

“No, Miss Nikos, there is nothing ill in it,” Professor Ozpin admitted. “In some ways, I suppose it is the most natural thing in the world, for all that the trappings of Mistralian honour make it seem strange and unusual.” He paused for a moment. “So … you will allow Miss Fall to choose the time and place of the contest?”

“That is the way, Professor,” Pyrrha explained. “I make the challenge, so she may set the terms.”

“Have you considered that she may take this opportunity to lure you into a trap, Miss Nikos?”

“I’m not sure that I’m worth the effort, Professor, but in any case … no, I don’t think so,” Pyrrha replied. “For whatever it may be worth, we are both Mistralians.”

“Some might call that a slender reed to cling to,” Professor Ozpin observed.

“Professor,” Pyrrha said, “I am at your service, and so if you tell me that you do not wish me to take this course, I will, of course, obey.”

“And in obedience, your sense of self will wither,” Professor Ozpin said. “No, Miss Nikos, I am not in the habit of acting as a general or a lord. I am the head of this organisation, but you are not mine to dispose of as I will. Certainly, I am not in the habit of … denying choice. I hope that you would not propose this course if you had no hope of victory, Miss Nikos.”

“No, Professor,” Pyrrha replied. “I mean yes, Professor, I mean … I believe I can defeat her.”

Professor Ozpin nodded slightly. He looked away from Pyrrha, away from all of them. “I sincerely hope that you are right, Miss Nikos,” he said in a voice that was so soft that Sunset had to strain to hear him. Soft and … wistful? It hardly seemed appropriate, but that was what Sunset heard in his voice.

“There is,” he went on, “the complication that duelling is illegal here in Vale, and has been for some time.”

“Duelling is illegal,” Pyrrha allowed. “But fighting against an enemy is not.”

“Some might say that the distinction becomes rather muddled when one is issuing public challenges on public television,” Professor Ozpin said, a touch of amusement creeping into his voice, “but if there are any consequences, I daresay that we’ll manage to muddle through somehow.”

He got up from his chair. “In times like these, I believe the customary phrase is ‘come back with your shield or on it.’ Obviously, Miss Nikos, that you should come back victorious is greatly to be preferred, but … shield or no, I’m sure that everyone here would prefer that you just come back alive.”

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