SAPR

by Scipio Smith

Pyrrha's Challenge (New)

Pyrrha’s Challenge

"Are you sure you want to do this, P-money?" Arslan asked.

Pyrrha's brow furrowed a little beneath her gleaming circlet. "Do you think this is a bad idea as well?

The two of them stood, otherwise alone, near the cliffs on the edge of the school grounds. The wind that blew in from the Emerald Forest made Pyrrha's crimson sash dance around her legs and pushed her ponytail to the side; it even ruffled Arslan's untidy mane of pale hair somewhat.

"I didn't say that," Arslan said quickly. She paused for a moment. “Although—”

Pyrrha smiled. “Although you’re about to.”

“No, no,” Arslan insisted. “I … I said that I would help you with this, and I will, but … let me ask you something: what makes you think she’ll go for this? Cinder, I mean. You’re going to go on air, make a song and dance, and then what?”

“And then she will answer,” Pyrrha said.

“Why?” Arslan asked. “Why would she? How can you know that she will?”

“You think she won’t?” asked Pyrrha, although the very fact that Arslan was asking the question made her scepticism plain.

In her place, I might be sceptical as well.

Arslan scratched the back of her head with one hand. “I’ve got to tell you, P, I have grown up with … well, without wishing to overegg the pudding too much, I grew up with some scum in our neighbourhood. They ran our neighbourhood. And some of them were smart, and some of them could be civil, and some of them could even show some manners sometimes, but none of them would go for this … unless it was a trap. Which I suppose means that I have two questions: what if she laughs at you, and what if she sets a trap?”

“I could ask you if it matters if she does answer,” Pyrrha replied. “It does matter to me; I would much rather that she answered, and I think she will, but if she does not … I have nevertheless made my position clear. By challenging Cinder, I show that there is no affection between us, no compact, and I am willing to risk my life in order to prove it.”

“Or you want people to think you are, while all the while sure that you won’t actually have to put your money where your mouth is,” Arslan suggested.

“I would hope that our people would not think so ill of me,” Pyrrha said.

“If they didn’t think ill of you, they wouldn’t suspect you in the first place,” Arslan said. “I don’t know how it is in the high towers of the old blood, but down amongst the lower slopes, the famous Mistralian honour is a little … threadbare. Especially amongst crooks and gangsters.”

“Cinder is…” Pyrrha paused for a moment, considering her response. Her thoughts turned to the last time she and Cinder had crossed blades, in the darkness beneath Mountain Glenn. “‘Long have I desired to match my skill against you.’”

“Hmm?” Arslan asked, frowning.

“That’s what she said to me, the last time we fought,” Pyrrha explained.

Arslan’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve fought before?”

Pyrrha nodded.

Arslan hesitated. “Do I want to ask…?”

“I survived, and so did she,” Pyrrha said softly. “She had … somewhat the best of it, although she is the one who drew the battle to a close by fleeing. But before that, she said to me those words ‘long have I desired to match my skill against you.’ I was alone, except for Jaune; Sunset and Ruby were engaged elsewhere, as were our Atlesian friends. Cinder was alone. And she seemed glad of the fact.”

“Don’t let your vanity blind you, Pride of Mistral. For I am Cinder Fall, chosen of the dark, and I will make you my factor and pluck all the renown and honours off your brow and take them for my own.”

“Cinder desires the glory of my overthrow,” Pyrrha said. “That’s how I know she will accept, and that is how I know that she will not steal a victory by setting a trap for me. That wouldn’t give her what she wants.”

“She wants it enough to risk her own life?” Arslan asked.

“It lacks the frisson of excitement that comes from lives on the line, from knowing that nobody is going to step in when your aura gets into the red. From knowing that your aura is all that stands between you and oblivion.”

“Undoubtedly,” Pyrrha replied. The one issue in all of this — which she could not mention to Arslan, of course — was Salem, but then, Salem had taken pains to present herself to them as a better lord than Professor Ozpin, a ring giver, a good mistress; surely, then, she would not begrudge her champion this chance to prove herself and to achieve her heart’s desire. After all, what would Cinder’s death really cost her, if she fell by Pyrrha’s hands? She had failed already, her stroke defeated, her plans consumed. What was the difference, for Salem, between losing a champion that she could replace at her leisure or waiting for that champion to possibly devise another plan? And if Cinder won, then … at the risk of vanity, some negative emotion might be spread by it. What reason, therefore, had Salem to refuse?

“She told me she would pluck the honours from my brow,” Pyrrha went on. “It is not merely my death she wants; that, she could accomplish by blowing me up or shooting me from a great distance. What she wants, she can only get from what I offer her: a battle between us, with lives at the hazard.”

Arslan was quiet for a moment. “And you believe her? She wasn’t just grandstanding?”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “I have reason to think she was sincere.”

“Hmm,” Arslan murmured. “Then … okay, I can see why you think that this will get her to come and play, I suppose. It sounds mad looking at it from the outside, but I get it.” Her lip twitched. “You were quick to think I was going to condemn this whole idea; is Jaune giving you a hard time about this?"

"No," Pyrrha said at once. "Jaune is … not happy about it, but at the same time, he believes in me. Almost his exact words." For which I am very grateful; if even Jaune didn't believe that I could win this fight, I … I don't know what I'd do.

It was for that reason that Sunset's concern irked her somewhat. She understood that it came from love, but at the same time, she rather wished that her best friend would have some faith in her to triumph.

Of course — and this was the reason why Pyrrha was not worse than irked by Sunset's attitude — Cinder was dangerous, and there was a chance that Pyrrha might lose this battle, and if she lost, she could not expect to survive. She did not expect to lose; she would not have taken this course, for these stakes, if she had not thought that she would — she could — prevail; but, as she had conceded in the dorm room, nothing was certain in battle, and she would further concede that Cinder Fall was not an opponent to be taken lightly.

As I know all too well.

So, even while she might like Sunset to be cheering her on, she could understand her wariness in this.

If our places were reversed, I would probably be wary too.

Arslan nodded. "That's good to hear. So it's Sunset and Ruby then?"

Pyrrha sighed. "Sunset … Sunset is … overprotective. I think the fact that my mother charged her to protect me has not helped in that regard, although in fairness to my mother, I think Sunset would be overprotective in any event."

Arslan snorted. "If you need protection, then what hope is there for any of us?"

"Mmm."

"Pyrrha?"

"I was just thinking," Pyrrha murmured. "I cannot entirely begrudge Sunset her concern since, if our places were reversed, I would be concerned about her too. Arslan, can I ask you a question?"

Arslan shrugged. "Shoot."

"Am I being terribly selfish?" Pyrrha asked. "Risking my life, risking the hurt to Jaune, to Sunset, for…"

Arslan waited a moment. "Well, that's the point, isn't it?" she asked. "What are you doing it for?"

"For … for myself," Pyrrha replied. "To prove that I can."

"I thought you were doing this to prove Phoebe wrong."

"Well, that too," Pyrrha said softly, "but that alone might not suffice to move me, if…" She trailed off. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be asking you about such things."

"No, it's no problem," Arslan assured her. She paused for a second. "I told my parents recently that I wasn't going back to the arena after this, that I'd changed my mind, and I was going to give being a huntress a proper go. Mom didn't take it very well. I thought…" She ran one hand through her mess of hair. "I thought it was the money that she was upset about, the loss of the income, the lifestyle, so I told her that I'd been careful with the money — which I have — and it was all diversified, and there was more than enough."

"What did she say to that?" asked Pyrrha.

"She bit my head off," Arslan answered. "Said that it wasn't about the money; it was about me, fighting monsters instead of fighting in a tournament with rules." There was another pause. "Are you expecting a hard fight?"

Pyrrha nodded. "I don't take Cinder lightly. As I said, the last time we fought … she had me on the back foot, at times, but that was done by using the terrain against me and taking me by surprise with what she was capable of. I’m aware now of what she can do, and the ground will not be so to her advantage. Yet, nevertheless, I do not take her lightly."

"Okay,” Arslan said. “Okay, let's … let’s say that Cinder Fall has what it takes. Let's say she's better than me and can do what I haven't managed yet." She pulled a face, sticking her tongue out and squinting her eyes; she looked as though she might be sick on the grass. "If you die, then Jaune will be heartbroken, and your friends, and your mother—"

"Thank you," Pyrrha muttered.

"I can't stand here and tell you that it's worth it," Arslan said, "but I certainly, sure as anything, can't tell you that it isn't worth it. Only you can answer that, P-money; only you can say whether or not you're risking it all for something worthwhile. So come on, answer your own question: is it worth it to you?"

Pyrrha was silent a moment. She bowed her head, some of her ponytail falling upon her shoulder, and yet, when she spoke a chuckle escaped her lips. "It's funny," she said. "I came to Beacon hoping that I could be Pyrrha Nikos. Not the Invincible Girl, not the Evenstar of Mistral, not the Princess Without a Crown, just Pyrrha Nikos. And yet … and yet, now I find that, without these things … without the Invincible Girl, I hardly feel like Pyrrha Nikos at all. Like a costume that I have worn for so long that I don't know how to live without it." She looked up. "I have to do this for the sake of myself, for the sake of the person I want to be. Yes, it is worth it."

"Then do it," Arslan said, "and don't get put off by the fact that people are worried about you." She grinned. "Besides, you've got nothing to worry about; you're going to kick her ass for sure."

One corner of Pyrrha's lip turned upwards. "Thank you for the vote of confidence."

"Well, it would be a fine thing if the Champion of Mistral—"

"I'm not going to be the Champion for very much longer," Pyrrha pointed out.

"You'll be a Champion of Hearts, P-money," Arslan declared. "And it would be a fine thing if you lost to some scumbag who might as well have sprung out of the ground for all that anyone can work out where she came from." Arslan hesitated. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Pyrrha replied. "I think you've earned it, by agreeing to help me."

"Do you know what she is, Cinder Fall?" Arslan asked. "I mean … she's bad news, but … what does she want? What kind of human works with the White Fang? What does an enemy of mankind even mean? What's she up to?"

Pyrrha was silent for a few moments, considering her response. Considering how she might answer around all the things that she could not tell Arslan about. "Cinder … Cinder is very angry," she said, "and out of her wrath, she'll sow destruction, if she is allowed."

"For what cause?"

"I don't know," Pyrrha lied, and felt guilty about the lie; it pricked her like a dagger's point. But it could not be avoided. "Perhaps she has no cause except her anger."

Arslan whistled. "Well … okay, then." She clasped her hands together behind her head. "Either way, whoever she is, she is … our shame. We brought a rabid dog into someone else's house, which is even worse than bringing it into your house, because you're responsible for everyone that it bites. But if anyone can erase our shame, it's Mistral's pride and joy. So do it for Mistral, okay? But, you know, no pressure." She winked.

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she chuckled. "I'm not sure there is any pressure you could place upon me that I do not already feel, but … I will do my best to oblige my home, even as I prove to it my fidelity."

"So what's your strategy?" Arslan asked.

"Calm," Pyrrha answered. "Cinder fights with her anger; if I can keep my head, I should prevail."

Arslan nodded. "Simple, but smart," she pronounced. She got out her scroll. "Okay, now you stand with your back to the cliffs, and that way, I can back away from you to get the right shot without falling off the cliff in the process." She unfolded the device and held it up in front of her face, although Pyrrha could still see her eyes over the top of it.

"That background is a bit boring," Arslan said. "I think I'll replace it with one that makes it look like we shot this in front of the school. In front of that statue in the middle of the fountain, that'll be cool."

"You can do that?" Pyrrha asked.

Arslan lowered her scroll for a moment. "Yeah, I know tons about editing videos," she said. "When I started out, I couldn't afford a publicist or anything like that, so I made my own publicity. I learned how to video edit, and then I made my own fun videos about my training sessions and my upcoming fights."

"Is that where the video of you running up the steps of the art gallery came from?"

Arslan grinned. "Yeah, that was my biggest hit. Anyway: Beacon background?"

Pyrrha considered it for a moment. "Very well."

"Awesome," Arslan said. "Now, just to make sure I get the right view." She took a couple of steps backwards as she raised her scroll again. "Okay. Game face and … go!"

Pyrrha breathed in. She was wearing Miló and Akoúo̱ across her back, and Miló at least would be visible over her shoulder; it seemed appropriate for what she was about to do. She set her face, an even expression, not too stern, but serious all the same. Unafraid.

"Hello," she said, in a voice which she endeavoured to keep calm. "My name is Pyrrha Nikos. In recent days, I have been subject to allegations regarding my complicity with a certain criminal named Cinder Fall. Cinder Fall was, amongst other things, partly responsible for the Breach, the recent attack on the kingdom of Vale. I say to all of you, I swear to all of you, that I had nothing to do with that attack, that I have no relations with Cinder Fall, and that I see her only as my enemy.

"But I don't expect anyone to take my word for it. After all, everything that I have said is exactly what someone in my position would say, whether it was true or not. And so I mean to prove to my accusers, to all my fans whose support means so much to me, and to everyone who has an opinion on the matter, that Cinder Fall is only my enemy.

"To Cinder herself, I have this message: I, Pyrrha Nikos, challenge you to meet me in single combat. Where you dare and when you dare, there we shall meet in a battle to the death. One shall stand; one shall fall." She worried that that might sound a little overdramatic, but surely if there was any place for over-drama, it was when challenging someone to a duel to the death. "If you do not accept, then all of Remnant will know that you are a coward."

---

"So, as we've just seen there, a … rather dramatic response by Pyrrha Nikos to the recent allegations made against her. Joining us in the studio to discuss this is historian and Professor of History at Beacon Academy, Doctor Bartholomew Oobleck; welcome."

"Thank you, Lisa, it's a pleasure to be here." The words galloped out of Doctor Oobleck's mouth like horses at the beginning of a race.

Ozpin, watching today's episode of The Lavender Report on the holographic screen projected above his desk, leaned back in his chair ever so slightly. He found it mildly interesting that they had chosen to have a historian guest to discuss this, although he felt as though he understood why.

Just as he understood why they had sought out Doctor Oobleck specifically.

Lisa Lavender herself sat with her legs together, but bent to one side, so that her feet were resting sideways upon the light blue carpet of the studio. "So, Doctor, what do you make of this response by Pyrrha Nikos?"

"Well, it's certainly a very Mistralian response," Oobleck said. "Classically so, in fact. You only need to look back into Mistralian history to see that the answering of insult with a sword is woven into the fabric of Mistralian elite society. And of course, one cannot ignore the fact that in Mistral, it is still perfectly legal to challenge opponents to — and indeed to fight them in — duels."

"So you're saying, as Miss Nikos' teacher, that this is a normal response from her?"

And there it is, thought Ozpin.

Oobleck laughed. "Aha, Lisa, I think you're trying to put words into my mouth. But no. Miss Nikos is an excellent student who has had no disciplinary problems and does not engage in violence outside of combat class or approved training missions. No. But of course, allegations of this sort are not normal either. These are extraordinary accusations that have been made against Miss Nikos, and it is not surprising that they warrant an extraordinary response. What is interesting is the fact that this challenge is directed at Miss Fall."

"What do you mean by that? Who would you expect it to be directed towards?"

"Why, to the accuser of course," Oobleck responded. "Slander of this nature—"

"You believe that the accusations are false?"

"Of course I do; Miss Nikos is a student at—"

"But wasn't Miss Fall posing as a student?" Lisa asked.

"Miss Nikos has participated in several actions which have defended or otherwise benefited Vale," Oobleck declared. "Including assisting in the capture of Roman Torchwick, helping to foil a White Fang dust robbery, and helping to defend the Breach and prevent a massive grimm incursion into the heart of this very city! Does that sound like the behaviour of a traitor to you? The very idea is preposterous, and as I was saying, such slander would certainly be grounds for a duel to the death in Mistralian culture even today. However, rather than challenging her accuser, Miss Nikos has challenged Miss Fall, although she is as much the subject of these allegations as Miss Nikos is."

"Why do you think that is?" Lisa asked. "Is it because the identity of the source of these allegations is unknown?"

"No, I think it is because Miss Nikos does not want to merely silence these scurrilous allegations but to answer them," Oobleck replied. "As she said herself, she wishes to prove which side she's on."

"But isn't this all a bit of a publicity stunt, in the end; I mean how likely is Cinder Fall to answer this challenge?"

"I'm afraid I couldn't possibly say with any certainty; I only knew Miss Fall very briefly when she was masquerading as a Haven Academy student, and in any case, I couldn't take her behaviour while masquerading as a guide to her real self; however, I will say that I doubt Miss Nikos would have made this very public gesture without some expectation that it would be answered. Otherwise, as you say, it would risk looking like a publicity stunt."

"But of course, there is also a risk that if Cinder Fall does not answer this challenge, then she risks looking, as Miss Nikos said herself, like a coward, isn't that right?" Lisa asked.

Not that that would bother some of Salem's servants, Ozpin thought. Some, most of them probably, would have laughed off a challenge such as that which Miss Nikos had thrown down. They would have called it childish, naïve. It was childish and naïve in some ways: come face me, alone, bereft of all advantages, in a clean battle in which only our respective skills matter. Who would answer such a challenge as that, with so much to lose and nothing to gain?

Nothing but the maintenance of reputation, which would be lost if the challenge were to be refused.

That was the answer, of course: only someone who cared excessively about their reputation would accept a challenge such as this one. Miss Nikos seemed to think that Miss Fall was such a one, and it was true that Salem had made use of servants with such a temperament in the past.

Something which she may come to regret.

A flashing green indicator in the corner of the holographic screen alerted Ozpin to an incoming call. Turning off The Lavender Report, Ozpin was able to see that the call was coming from the First Councillor.

Oh, joy.

Ozpin took a deep breath and put on a benign and genial smile before he answered, "Good afternoon, Councillor."

"A duel?" Councillor Emerald asked him. "A duel to the death?"

"Ah, I see you've been watching the news," Ozpin replied.

"Of course I watch the news; it's how I find out what the people are thinking," Councillor Emerald replied. "What is going on up there, Ozpin?"

"To be blunt, Councillor, I could ask you what's going on in Vale," Ozpin replied. "Anti-faunus sentiment on the rise, anti-Atlas sentiment—"

"I'm aware," Councillor Emerald said.

"We cannot have the Vytal Festival ruined by factional division—"

"I am aware!" Councillor Emerald snapped. "You think that I don't know what's going on? Novo's children were followed halfway home by some human drunk harassing them." He paused for a moment. "They said that Miss Shimmer and Miss Nikos and their team stepped in to defend and comfort them, and then escorted them the rest of the way. That was … very good of them. I would be grateful if you could pass on the thanks and appreciation of myself and Novo."

"I will," Ozpin promised.

"Why would someone who was willing to condemn the whole of Vale to death stop and help two people being harassed on the street?" asked Councillor Emerald.

Ozpin paused for a moment. "I think … when one thinks of a city, a kingdom, it is easy to conceptualise it as something abstract, a piece on a board, a name on a map. Take it off the board, wipe it off the map, what matter that? Two people seen on the street are … two people. They cannot be anything else." Another pause. "And I think Miss Shimmer feels for those she has met more than she ever could for those she has not."

Councillor Emerald snorted. "A human enough flaw, I suppose, even if she does carry it to excess. I'm increasing police numbers in the tourist areas of Vale, in order to ensure that the Vytal Festival is not disturbed. If that's not enough, I'll call in the army."

"And what of those faunus who are not so fortunate as to live in the tourist areas of Vale?" Ozpin asked.

"I'm a faunus myself, Ozpin, as you can plainly see," Councillor Emerald said sharply, "and I resent the implication that I'm leaving them behind. The fact is that many faunus distrust the police, and for good reason, an increased police presence … could make things worse. So far, there has been no evidence of humans going into faunus parts of Vale looking for trouble. If that changes…" He sighed. "I don't understand what's happening to this city, Ozpin; I can't get my arms around it."

"Neither can I," Ozpin admitted. "This present agitation seems to be, if not quite sui generis, then it has certainly escalated at an unnatural pace."

"With luck, it will die down just as swiftly, once Ironwood and his army take their leave of us," Councillor Emerald said. He shook his head. "To return to the business at hand … a duel, Ozpin, really? Was this your idea?"

"No, Councillor, Miss Nikos came up with this plan all by herself," Ozpin replied. "I did, however, give her my approval."

"Did you?" Councillor Emerald muttered. "Of course you did. You are aware, I hope, that duelling is illegal in Vale. It has been for over two hundred years."

"And yet, the last recorded duel was fought only a hundred and fifty years ago," Ozpin pointed out.

"That doesn't mean that Pyrrha Nikos can break the law just because she feels slighted."

"Fighting the enemies of man is not illegal," Ozpin said. "In fact, it is precisely what a huntress ought to do."

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying that perhaps we should allow the Mistralians to use whatever terminology they like," Ozpin said, "while we focus on the salient point: when the dust settles, the person responsible for the Breach might not be a problem anymore."

"So … this is a trap?"

"No, Miss Nikos is in perfect earnest," Ozpin said, "but her earnestness may yet serve … a greater purpose."

Councillor Emerald's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to sound sinister?"

"No, Councillor."

"Then you should have chosen a different way to word that," Councillor Emerald said. "In any event … you make a very good point, regarding the legality of it. And of course, issuing a challenge to a duel isn't illegal, only fighting one is. So we will let this play out and see if it doesn't come to some good. Keep me informed, won't you?"

Ozpin nodded. "Of course, Councillor. Good day."

He hung up on the First Councillor just as the elevator door opened and General Ironwood walked in.

"Oz."

"Good afternoon, James," Ozpin said. He allowed himself a smile. "Allow me to guess why you might be here."

"A duel, Oz?" Ironwood asked. "Seriously?"

"It is the Mistralian way."

"It's Mistralian nostalgic nonsense," Ironwood said, "and you know it."

Ozpin's smile widened ever so slightly. He clasped his hands together, resting his elbows upon his lap. "You know, I cannot help but recall a young Atlesian officer I once knew who fought a duel against Leo—"

Ironwood cleared his throat. "Yes, well… just because I was once young and stupid, Oz, is no reason why you should let other people be stupid just because they're young." He clasped his hands behind his back, glancing away from Ozpin. "In any case, neither Leo nor I was ever at risk of dying; we fought until his aura broke, nothing more." He paused for a moment, before adding in a far more sullen tone, "And besides, it's not like I got anything out of it anyway."

Ozpin's tone was more sympathetic than it had been, as he said, "Duelling may or may not be, as you put it, nostalgic nonsense, but duelling over a woman … that is old-fashioned, even for me."

"You make it sound as though the winner was going to own her," Ironwood muttered. "It wasn't like that."

"Nevertheless I think that is rather how Luna saw the matter," Ozpin said, "judging by the way that she—"

"Threw a glass of water in my face, declared 'I am not a prize to be won,' and stormed off?" Ironwood said.

"Yes," Ozpin murmured. "Exactly. Has she forgiven you yet?"

"I don't know; I mostly talk to Celestia," Ironwood admitted. "I think she overreacted. It wasn't even my fault; Leo was the one who challenged me. What was I supposed to do?"

"You could have laughed at him," Ozpin suggested. "I think Luna might have preferred it if you had."

"Then shouldn't Miss Nikos be laughing at these allegations?" Ironwood suggested. "I say it again, Oz, nobody was in danger of their life when I fought Leo. This … she could die, Oz."

The smile slid off Ozpin's face. His voice, when he spoke in response, was soft and quiet. "I'm aware."

"There aren't so many people like her around that we can afford to just throw them away."

"I'm aware."

"And it wouldn't be the first time that we've lost someone because they were too bold and too sure of themselves and they walked into something—"

"I'm aware," Ozpin said, his voice rising to quiet James.

Ironwood was silent for a moment. "Of course you are, I didn't mean to imply … I meant no disrespect."

He turned away from Ozpin and walked to the windows that ran around three sides of the office, looking out across Beacon and Vale beyond, with the General's own warships visible in the sky.

Ozpin could see his back, and his hands clasped behind his back, as he stood before the glass looking out.

"Children," Ironwood said softly. "Children make mistakes. They overestimate their strength, they misjudge the importance of things; it's our job … it's our job to teach them better, but if we can't, if … failing that, it's our job to stop them making these mistakes in the first place."

"You think this is a mistake?" Ozpin asked.

Ironwood turned around to look at him. "You don't?"

"Not necessarily," Ozpin replied.

"If she dies," Ironwood said. "I thought you had plans for her?"

"But if she wins," Ozpin said, "then it may be some time before the shadow grows again."

“You think so?” Ironwood asked. “Don’t you think you’re forgetting about Autumn?”

“She will not risk her in the front lines, having gone to such lengths to attain her,” Ozpin said. “To send her into the midst of our fortress, where she could so easily be lost? Madness. She will keep her safe, as we have done, and ensure that at the very least the power may be passed on to someone of her own choosing. That, at least, is what I would do.”

"Well then,” Ironwood said, “if killing Cinder will accomplish all that you hope, then all the more reason to let me put my team on stand by-”

“No, James,” Ozpin said firmly. “We will let Miss Nikos handle this her own way.”

“Why?” Ironwood demanded. “With so much at stake, why take the risk?”

"Because Miss Nikos needs this," Ozpin informed him. "She needs this, and so, she will have it. I think … I think it is the very least that we can do for her."

---

“'Coward'?” Cinder repeated. “She calls me 'coward'? How very boldly Mistral’s princess gives commands: I must answer her challenge or be known as a coward.” It had been bad enough - quite, quite bad enough - when some oik had presumed to suggest that she and Pyrrha might be in league together. The absurdity of it! As if she would ever associate with that overhyped, overrated, pampered milksop. As if she would ever bend her back to take commands from Princess Popular, so beloved. Had they no thought to Cinder’s pride? Did they think so little of her that she could be nothing but a henchman for the golden girl, the people’s darling Pyrrha Nikos?

She had been tempted to write to the editor and complain about falling standards in journalism.

Yes, that had been quite bad enough, but this? To be thought a subordinate to someone she hated was one thing, but to be accused of cowardice was something else altogether.

Cinder turned around, turning from the window of the Portchester Manor library to face the others gathered behind her. “Now, I ask you, was there any need for that?”

“It was kind of rude,” Sonata agreed. “What if you didn’t feel like fighting? What if you had a stomach ache? It would really suck if you couldn’t go out and fight her for perfectly good reasons and everyone thought that you were just scared, right?”

“It wasn’t rude; it was transparent,” Tempest declared. She folded her arms. “A transparent attempt to goad you into answering this ridiculous challenge.”

“'Ridiculous'?” Cinder said, rolling the word around on her tongue before spitting it back out again. “'Ridiculous.' 'This ridiculous challenge.' Is that what you think?”

Tempest Shadow blinked. “Well … yes. Obviously. What kind of—?”

“Cinder will answer,” Emerald said, speaking quickly, before Tempest could say anything that might give Cinder cause to do something Tempest would regret. “Cinder will not back down from this challenge, will you, Cinder?”

Cinder smiled at her. “No, Emerald, I will not. Would you care to explain to the Atlesian philistine over there,” she gestured towards Tempest, “why I will not?”

Emerald managed the difficult feat of smiling and looking a little nervous at the same time. She clasped her hands together in front of her and shuffled awkwardly upon her feet, scraping her shoes upon the wooden floor.

“Take your time,” Cinder murmured. “You know the answer.”

Emerald glanced at her and nodded in a short, sharp gesture. “Because,” she said, “even if Pyrrha hadn’t said it, the unspoken subtext would be there: if you do not answer, if you do not meet me in combat, then you are coward, afraid of me. No warrior would subject themselves to such humiliation in the eyes of their enemies. Secondly, because as Doctor Oobleck kind of explained on the news, what Pyrrha has done has a long history in Mistral. It’s tradition; it goes way back.” She looked at Cinder again. “It goes back to The Mistraliad, right? When, um … uh … Paris?”

“Pandarus,” Cinder corrected her gently.

“Right, Pandarus for the Mistralians and Melanippe for the Danaeans agreed to meet to duel for the fate of the princess and the city,” Emerald said, her voice gaining more confidence as she went. “And when Pandarus fled, he was known as a coward by everyone on both sides.”

“So what?” Lightning Dust demanded.

“So … Pyrrha is appealing to ancient rules and customs,” Emerald explained, “and they bind Cinder to answer.”

“Unless those ancient rules and customs are going to strike her dead if she doesn’t do anything, then I don’t see that they ‘bind’ her or anyone else,” Lightning replied. “Ignore them. Flip them off. Who cares if your enemies think that you’re a coward?”

“I care,” Cinder said, in a voice that was yet soft, but had nevertheless acquired some sharpness to it.

Lightning shuffled a little. “I mean … they already think we’re evil.”

“Yet they may think me valiant in my villainy,” Cinder said. “I will not have Pyrrha Nikos think that I was afraid to face her. I will not have her think that I cower in some hiding place, cringing into the shadows, silent as she calls out my name, as though we played hide and seek and I sought to evade her gaze. I will not have it said that I was afeared of any foe arrayed against us; I am Cinder Fall!”

She took a step forward, towards them all, her doubting subordinates, and as she strode, she jabbed at her own chest with one finger. “I am Cinder Fall, and I will eat the heart of Pyrrha Nikos in the marketplace! Why should I not answer this challenge?” She chuckled. “The fool has cooked herself for dinner. She challenges me. She will face me in single combat, when I dare and where I dare.”

She let out a gasping laugh as she spread her arms out wide. “This is what I wanted. This was always my intent. A battle between us to the death, one shall stand and one shall fall, and when Pyrrha falls, as she will, at my hand, then … what then? How will they weep in Mistral, how will they gnash their teeth, how will they wail for their fallen Evenstar, their Princess Without a Crown? How they will…”

“Cinder?” Emerald murmured.

“They will look for her coming from the White Tower,” Cinder whispered, “but she will not return, by land or by air.”

She laughed softly, gently. “It … it occurs to me that when I strike Pyrrha down, I … I do her service. She might not see it so, Jaune will not see it so, and Sunset neither, but … when she falls, in valiant struggle against a contemptible foe … will not her reputation gleam golden evermore? Will they not raise a great and towering monument to her memory? Will she not live on in the hearts of all men?”

And will I not live on beside her, our fates intertwined, her story inseparable from the name of her killer? As her reputation gleams effulgent, mine will be as black as polished obsidian. I shall be Mistral’s dark demon forevermore, the monster who brought down the Evenstar.

I would rather be remembered as a monster than be forgotten.

I would not be forgotten for all the treasure in the world.

She would not … she would not be her parents, dead and dust and gone from memory before the season turned. She would … be immortal, though she purchased it with blood and condemnation and every hand in Remnant turned against her.

“Very romantic,” Tempest drawled. “What if you lose?”

Cinder raised one eyebrow. “You don’t believe in me, Tempest Shadow?”

“It’s a fair question,” Tempest said. “What if you lose, what if Pyrrha kills you?”

“I have no intention of losing to Pyrrha Nikos,” Cinder said, because of course, if she lost to Pyrrha, then she would be … nothing. Dust beneath Pyrrha’s chariot wheels, just one of a great host of foes fallen or defeated. She had to kill Pyrrha in order to attain the infamy that she desired. “My life is not Pyrrha’s to take; I will win.”

“You cannot be certain of that,” Tempest said.

Cinder’ eyes narrowed as she advanced upon her. “You are beginning to move beyond a simple lack of faith and into insolence.”

“'Insolence'?” Tempest repeated. “Is it insolent to say that we need you alive? If you die, then our Mistress—”

“My Mistress,” Cinder said sharply. “Not yours. You are a servant to a servant. Right now, I am your mistress. Do not forget your place, or shall I remind you of it?”

“No,” Tempest said, bowing her head. “That … will not be necessary. Nevertheless, I … as your servant, I wish to express my … concerns—”

“Your concern is touching, of course,” Cinder said, “but the consequences of my defeat are none of your concern, not least because there is nothing to be concerned about. I will not fail. I will not lose. I will not suffer to fall at Pyrrha’s hands.”

But if I did … if I do…

If I do, then I will be forgotten.

And as much to the point, I will be dead, and all of Salem’s plans will be much of a muchness to me.

I am not here to serve Salem only. I am not her puppet, to do her will obediently — no, not even obediently, thoughtlessly.

I am not ungrateful, for all that she has done and given me; I am not unmindful that she has made me strong. And for her gifts, I’ll render up to her a golden crown as she desires while I yet live.

If I live.

For I am not her factor, I am not put on Remnant to do nought but as she commands, I am Cinder Fall, and I must do as I will.

I may be servant to a mistress, but I am no one’s slave.

So, if I fall — a very unlikely event — let Salem howl.

After all, I’ll be dead.

“You three may leave now,” she said, gesturing at Tempest, Lightning, and Sonata. “That will be all. Emerald, remain, if you will; there are further matters where I will require your assistance.”

“I—” Tempest began.

“That will be all,” Cinder said in a voice as sharp as a blade.

Tempest scowled for a moment, but turned away and joined Lightning and Sonata in making her way out of the library.

“Close the door, Emerald,” Cinder said as they left. “Please.”

Emerald gave a brief smile, walked briskly and with a light tread — but with much improved posture all the same — to close the door.

She lingered there, one hand upon the door handle.

“Cinder…” she murmured. “May … may I speak freely?”

Cinder tilted her head ever so slightly sideways. “You would dissuade me from accepting this challenge also?”

“I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others,” Emerald said. “I … I know it’s not my place, and I didn’t want you to think that I was siding with Tempest over you, but … I don’t see the point of this.”

“You articulated the point very well, I thought,” Cinder said.

“I know; I mean, I understand,” Emerald said. “I understand why you feel as though you have to do this, but … but I don’t agree. Rules and conventions, honour, what … what does it matter? Who does it help? Isn’t it all just the way that people like Pyrrha get their way over people like us? And besides…”

Cinder waited for her for a moment. No words came. “You may speak,” Cinder urged. “I will not be angry.”

“You won’t?”

“Not with you,” Cinder assured her. “We are … something close to equals now; you are a quick study. I would not be wrath with you as I would be with Tempest or Lightning.”

“Okay,” Emerald said softly. “Then … then I think you’re wrong. I think that this is pointless; I think that … the world that you want to live in, the world that you want to believe in, it doesn’t exist. You can kill Pyrrha, as I’m sure you will, but what then?”

“She will be remembered, and I—”

“No,” Emerald said, “she won’t. She won’t gleam golden in memory, she won’t be put on a pedestal, she’ll be a rotting corpse in the ground somewhere, and those who loved her best will have forgotten about her before the year turns. Jaune, Sunset, they’ll move… forward; Jaune will find someone else to love, and Mistral? Mistral will find another performing seal to fawn over. They won’t remember her, and they certainly won’t remember you. If they find it worth their while to kill you, then … they will not remember you after.”

Cinder was silent for a moment, staring at Emerald. “You speak … did it require boldness on your part to speak thus?”

Emerald swallowed and nodded silently.

You speak the fear that is in my heart. After all, that had been the fate of her mother, bold-hearted pilot though she was; that had been the fate of her father, a good and honest gentleman. That too had been the fate of her stepmother and stepsisters; where was Phoebe’s mourning to be seen?

And yet … and yet, she hoped for more for herself. She hoped for more for Pyrrha Nikos, and that moreness would secure more for herself.

“What would you have me do instead?” she asked.

“Live?” Emerald suggested. “Live for yourself, and for the moment; not for your hopes of lasting memory.”

Cinder chuckled. “Pyrrha’s choice. A long unmemorable existence, or a brief life and immortal memory.”

“Maybe she chose wrong,” Emerald suggested.

I cannot live, for I have nothing to live for. “Seek not to alter me, Emerald,” Cinder said. “I am … I am too far gone.” And I have been altered too much already. “Seek not to alter me. I did not ask you to stay so that you would persuade me from my course, but because I need your help.”

“My help?” Emerald asked. “With what?”

“Convention dictates that the two combatants, who are assumed by convention to have a quarrel between them, should have no contact before the duel itself; all communication is by trusted intermediaries. Out of all them, you are the only one I trust, and so I ask that you serve as my intermediary in this and arrange a suitable place where we will not be observed or disturbed by General Ironwood’s men or any Valish authorities.”

“I … of course,” Emerald murmured. “I can’t say that I’m honoured, even though I kind of feel as though I should say that, but I will do it.” She paused. “Pyrrha’s trusted intermediary—”

“I suggest you start,” Cinder said, “by calling Sunset.”

---

“Ridiculous,” Tempest muttered. “Absolutely ridiculous.”

“Yeah, you were acting kind of strange in there,” Sonata said.

Tempest stopped — as did Lightning Dust, for that matter — and stared at her. “Me?”

Sonata stopped too. “Oh, I’m sorry, were you talking about someone else?”

“Cinder!” Tempest snapped. “She can’t do this.”

“Why not?” Sonata asked. “I thought we wanted her out of the—”

“Not so loud!” Tempest hissed, covering her mouth with one hand.

Sonata’s eyes widened. When Tempest withdrew her hand, she spoke in a noticeably quieter voice. “Oh, right, sorry. But still, I thought—”

“Unfortunately,” Lightning muttered, “much as I wouldn’t mind seeing the back of her either, we can’t do it without her.”

Sonata frowned. “No?”

“No,” Tempest agreed. “Cinder … the only path to our Mistress’ designs lies through her. Without her, our Mistress’ goals cannot be achieved, and all of this is pointless.”

“And she won’t let my sisters go,” Sonata whispered.

“She must be informed of this disobedience,” Tempest said.

“Ooh, I’ve got a better idea,” Sonata said. “What about if she wasn’t—”

“Weren’t you listening?” Lightning demanded. “If Cinder dies, then—”

“Yet,” Sonata finished. “What if we didn’t tell anyone … yet?”

There was silence amongst the three of them for a moment.

“'Yet,'” Tempest murmured.

“'Yet,'” Lightning repeated approvingly.

“'Yet,'” Tempest said again.

The more she said it, the more she liked the sound of it.

Comments

[Snowdrifter]

“Yet,” Sonata finished. “What if we didn’t tell anyone … yet?”

Pain: When Hades finds out...
Panic: You mean, IF he finds out...
(beat)
Pain: If? Yes, 'if' is good...

[Mastermind4892]

In the immortal words of Bill Engvall, “Well, I knew this was going to be a mistake.”

[ButtonMash]

I think there’s a very notable shift here, it’s quiet, but I’d like to note that the chapter ending with the others following Sonata’s suggestion is by itself a curiosity.

Hell may freeze over yet, I suspect.

[Web of Hope]

11441664
Glad I'm not the only one 😂😂