• 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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Dinner with Lord Rutulus (New)

Dinner with Lord Rutulus

“The value of shares in the SDC rose slightly as the Atlesian authorities announced that they were not filing charges against Jacques Schnee following the recent revelations regarding abuse and forced labour at certain Schnee Dust Company facilities. Several executives were arrested yesterday in conjunction with the abuse, but Jacques Schnee is said to be cooperating fully with the investigation. The arrested executives have been identified as Calliope Ferny—”

Turnus switched off his scroll, letting it sit blank and idle in his hand as he sat on the edge of his bed.

He was in his stateroom aboard the airship Imperial Splendour, which had just passed over the mountains and was making its final approach towards Vale. But, since they had not yet arrived in Vale, there was very little at present to distract him from this news about the SDC.

“Calliope Ferny,” he murmured. “Captain Ferny?” How could you?

“You know her?” asked Lord Kiro from where he lounged by the wall of Turnus’ stateroom.

Turnus looked up at him. Elagabalus Kiro was a man of around Turnus’ age — they had been at school together, before Turnus went away to Atlas — but a little smaller and a lot less broad in the shoulders. His face was thin, a little pinched, and he wore his black hair in a curious fashion, combed and fixed upwards in an array from ear to ear like the crest of a helmet. Turnus had never asked why he chose to arrange his hair like that — even if it did make him look bald on the front of his head — since, after all, the Great War had been fought and won to, amongst other things, retain the right to slightly ludicrous hairstyles. He was dressed in a bright yellow coat, with crimson faces on the cuff and collar, fiery orange breeches, and high black leather boots that went up almost as high as his knees. A golden badge, fashioned in the shape of a blazing sun with a ruby set in the centre of it, was pinned upon his right breast, the symbol of the House of Kiro.

“She was my commander,” Turnus said, “when I worked for SDC security. She was … more than a leader; she was … a mentor almost. She introduced me to her sister; she was … I thought that she was the model of what an Atlesian ought to be.”

Elagabalus snorted. “It sounds as though perhaps she was.”

Turnus didn’t respond to that; rather, he said, “I … I knew her. I thought I knew her.”

Elagabalus smirked. “If you were so close, should I be worried about Camilla?”

The temperature in the room dropped by several degrees as Turnus rose to his feet, stalking across the room; he didn’t need his semblance to loom over Elagabalus; the natural difference in their heights was enough to do that all on its own.

“Would you like to repeat that?” Turnus said. “I’m afraid I didn’t hear you the first time.”

Elagabalus squirmed in place, his whole body shimmying first one way and then the other as he dry washed his hands. “I … no. No, I said nothing, nothing at all.” He let out a little nervous laugh.

“Hmm,” Turnus murmured as he turned away. As shocked as he was by these revelations, he wasn’t about to let someone — even an old school friend — get away with implying that he mistreated Camilla.

He would rather cut off his own hand than turn it against her.

Nevertheless, as he walked back towards the bed, he could not help but feel as though he had let her down, if only by association.

“I can hardly believe it,” he said.

“Perhaps it isn’t true,” Elagabalus suggested.

“They wouldn’t have made these arrests unless they were certain,” Turnus declared, sitting back down on the bed once more. “Accusations like these would not get made lightly. And if it were not true, then Mister Schnee would be defending his people, not cooperating fully with the investigation.”

“Are you sure about that?” Elagabalus asked. “If it gets the law off his own back, then what reason does he have not to cooperate, true or not?”

Turnus frowned. “Are you suggesting that Mister Schnee wouldn’t have any loyalty to his employees?”

Elagabalus laughed. “One breath, you talk about how we need to be more Atlesian, how we need to cut our ties with pointless traditions, how we need to shrug off that which holds us back, and then with another breath, you talk about loyalty.”

“Because loyalty is not a pointless tradition,” Turnus replied.

“Isn’t it?” Elagabalus asked.

“Without loyalty, how can there be trust?” Turnus asked.

“'Trust'?” Elagabalus repeated. He shrugged. “Well, at any rate, they will be pleased in the Guildhall to learn of this. It will give them ammunition in their struggle.”

“Yes, I suppose it will,” Turnus murmured. “Your family has interests in mines, doesn’t it?”

“As it happens, yes, it does,” Elagabalus answered. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t as well.”

“No, I sold those,” Turnus said. “I bought shares in the Schnee Dust Company with the proceeds.” That seemed like a very good idea at the time, perhaps less so now.

Elagabalus let out a sort of snorting chuckle that he made some effort to restrain. “Bad luck. Still, you have other sources of revenue.”

“Oh, I’m well aware that there are others who are worse off than I am,” Turnus said. “Those poor souls in Atlas, for a start.”

“Your old boss, or the people she was enslaving?”

“Her victims,” Turnus said quietly. “I had … no idea. None at all. I never even imagined.”

“You don’t need to justify yourself to me,” Elagabalus said. “After all, in the old days, our ancestors would have done as much, or worse.”

“No doubt,” Turnus admitted, “but these aren’t the old days anymore.”

“More’s the pity,” Elagabalus muttered.

“'Pity'?” Turnus asked. “Pity that the faunus are no longer our slaves?”

Elagablus held up one hand pacifically. “Pity that we are no longer a power to be feared and respected,” he said. “Pity that we must haggle like fishwives in the market for what is rightfully ours, that we must give up to the thief what the thief deems valuable in order to secure the return of what is our own. My own. Your family once stood on the left hand of the Imperial Throne, my family has Imperial blood through marriage in generations gone by, yet look at us now! You are a glorified bodyguard, and I am a courier!”

“The past is past, at the risk of verging upon cliché,” Turnus declared. “Mistral must look to the future if it is to rise again.”

“As Atlas has?”

“Not in all respects, clearly,” Turnus muttered. “But yes, broadly, as Atlas has.”

“And yet we must be loyal to one another.”

“You say that as if there is some contradiction you have cleverly spotted that exposes the fallacy of my argument,” Turnus said.

“Who were you loyal to, when you were in Atlas?” Elagabalus asked.

Turnus’ jaw clenched. “I was loyal to my family, as I always have been,” he said. “And now, if you will excuse me, I have some business to take care of. Ufens!”

The door into the stateroom opened, and Ufens shuffled in. “Yes, my lord?”

“Escort Lord Kiro back to his stateroom, or wherever else aboard ship he wishes to go,” Turnus said. “Just make you keep an eye on him. You and Murranus.”

Ufens bowed his head. “As you say, my lord. After you, lord.”

“Yes, well,” Elagabalus said. “I … I think I might see if the bar is open, get a little aperitif.”

He clasped the lapels of his jacket, straightening them as if they needed straightening, before he strode out of Turnus’ room. Ufens followed, and the door soon closed behind them.

Turnus looked down at his scroll; he was still holding it in his hands; he hadn’t let it go since he had turned off the news.

Calliope Ferny; was I blind, or were you very good at hiding the truth?

He couldn’t bring himself to consider that the allegations against her were not true; he had seen the pictures of the victims, what had been done to them; besides, although he had evaded Atlesian justice, he had sufficient respect for the Atlesian authorities to believe that they would not accuse someone without proof.

That was how he had evaded what they called justice, after all.

No, Calliope had done this, much as he wished that it were not so. She had held faunus captive against their will, burned their flesh, branded them like cattle.

“She’s so scared of everything,” Turnus whined. “Every time I go near her, she acts like she’s going to faint or start crying.”

“She’s been through a lot, son,” Father replied, from where he sat enthroned in his armchair. “Give her time.”

Turnus paused for a moment. “What … what happened to her?”

Father paused for a moment, before a weary sigh escaped from him. “You’re too young to understand,” he said, “or at least, I hope you’re still too young to understand. And even if you weren’t, I … I don’t really want to think about it too much.”

Turnus closed his eyes. I feel as though I’ve let you down too.

He opened his eyes again and made his first call, to his broker, a man named Chrysus. Chrysus was a round-faced little man, balding slightly on top of his head, with a pair of spectacles as round as his head perched upon his nose and several gold teeth in his mouth, that glinted when he smiled.

“My lord!” he cried. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Would you like to review your portfolio? You usually make an appointment, and it is a little earlier in the quarter than usual, but—”

“No, I don’t need to review everything at this time,” Turnus told him. “I want you to sell all my stock in the Schnee Dust Company.”

Chrysus’ eyebrows rose. “You’re a little late to be joining the panic, my lord; the share price has stopped tumbling, but it remains significantly below the level it was trading at before the Atlesian authorities started putting the boot in. I advise you to wait and see if the price rises; I can try and obtain an option for you to sell against any renewed depreciation—”

“Just sell the stock, will you, there’s a good fellow,” Turnus instructed him. “I’m aware that I’ll … will I lose money compared to the price I bought them at?”

“I’m afraid so, my lord, yes,” Chrysus said. “If you will recall, I did advise you that buying in a bull market was unlikely to yield great returns and was not without risk.”

“Yes, well, this isn’t about the money,” Turnus said. “This is about the principle of the thing. I cannot … I wish to sever my business ties with the SDC, in light of current events.”

Even though Mister Schnee was innocent, and a great many other employees too, nevertheless, the company as a whole had been profiting off the back of Calliope Ferny’s activities. And that meant that he had been profiting too. It made him feel dirty, even at this remove.

He found himself glad that he was making a loss.

“Of course, my lord,” Chrysus said, bowing his head slightly. “What should I do with the proceeds of the sale?”

“Donate one fifth of it to Traffic Stop,” Turnus instructed him. The name made the organization sound like it was involved in road safety, but it was actually a charity set up to help fight people trafficking in Mistral. His father had been a patron, and in his memory — and for Camilla — Turnus made a donation every year. “Invest the rest in … in Mistralian mining companies, good guild members, use your own judgement on precisely which enterprise or enterprises.”

“Back where you started, my lord,” Chrysus murmured. “Minus some lien.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Turnus murmured. “It is what it is; just get it done for me, will you?”

“At once, my lord.”

“Good,” Turnus said. “That’s all then, thank you.”

“Until next time, my lord.”

Turnus hung up on him. It doesn’t change anything, but it makes me feel better at least.

His next call was to Camilla.

It was nearly two in the afternoon here in the skies over Sanus, approaching Vale, so it would be evening in Mistral, but not so late that Camilla wouldn’t be awake still. Indeed, she answered the scroll swiftly, the image on his screen displaying just a hint of turquoise wrapped around her pale neck.

“Good evening,” he said. “I hope I’m not disturbing you?”

She smiled. “Never, my lord. How goes it? Have you arrived in Vale?”

“Not yet,” he replied. “But soon enough. And it goes well enough.” He paused for a moment. “Have you heard the news?”

“About the Schnee Dust Company?” Camilla asked.

Turnus nodded.

“I have,” Camilla answered. “It is everywhere, throughout the city. The masters of the Mining Guild and the Union of Mineworkers have called a meeting in the Guildhall to discuss their response. It is rumoured they will call on the Council and the Steward to expel the Schnee Dust Company.”

“That would be bold of them, to take such a step,” Turnus said. “And I doubt that the Council would wish to offend Atlas by doing something like that.”

Mistral’s ancient guilds and livery companies had long attempted to resist the incursion of the SDC into Mistral by presenting a united front against it: the caravaneers would not move SDC goods or equipment, the merchants would neither sell to them nor buy their dust, no unionised miner would work for them, and anyone breaking ranks could expect to be expelled and blacklisted. The only thing they couldn’t do was stop the SDC from hiring Mistralian huntsmen to protect its interests in Anima. The SDC had responded by doing everything in-house: it moved its own materiel, it shipped everything it needed from Atlas, including labour — and now you had to wonder about the kind of labour that was being shipped in from the north.

Having the company thrown out of the kingdom would be a blessing to the Guildhall, no doubt, but Atlas might not take it well, and Turnus did not believe the Council would seek that kind of confrontation, especially with the world in its current state.

“You may be right, my lord,” Camilla said. “Those poor people.”

“Yes,” Turnus said quietly. “I … I didn’t know. I swear to you, I had no idea.”

Camilla’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. “Did you think I would believe you capable of such a thing?”

“I … wasn’t … I worked there.”

“I am sure that a great many people worked for the Schnee Dust Company, and even in its security, without being aware of this,” Camilla replied. “That you were amongst them, I did not doubt.”

“No?”

“If you were the kind of man who could go along with such conduct, you would have revealed it,” Camilla told him. She smiled, slightly and softly. “You do not conceal your feelings well.”

Turnus let out a sort of scoffing gasp. “I suppose I have little choice but to take that as a compliment.” He paused. “I didn’t know. I was right there, and I never saw it.”

“That is not your fault.”

“My father would have seen it,” Turnus said.

“Lord Rutulus was a good and great man,” Camilla said. “But a great many good men seem to have been deceived by what was happening in Atlas. Perhaps Lord Rutulus would have been one of them, perhaps not, but either way, you deserve no especial reproach for being amongst them. I … must confess I am surprised that those two faunus, Blake Belladonna and Rainbow Dash, were allowed to bring this to light. I would have thought…”

“That it would all be covered up?” Turnus guessed.

“Perhaps, or perhaps I am simply … Atlas has exceeded my expectations, it seems.”

“You had low expectations of Atlas?”

“My experience with Atlesians has been that they are a rather coarse and brutish people, my lord,” Camilla reminded him.

“Of course,” Turnus murmured. “They were … yes, well…” He hesitated for a second. “Am I missing anything?”

“Lady Ming wished to hire security for her daughter’s birthday party, my lord,” Camilla said.

“They’d booked a venue, rather than having it in the house, I suppose,” Turnus said.

“Yes, the Fluct-light,” Camilla replied. “I assigned Caeculus and Halaesus.”

“Fair choices,” Turnus replied. Security for a birthday party meant door work, keeping uninvited guests out of the club, the sort of easy, profitable work that his men enjoyed — for the most part, anyway. “Anything else?”

“Coloratura has been in touch; she is in the planning stages of a new tour,” Camilla said, “but very little has been decided yet, and we agreed that discussion of the security arrangements could wait until your return.”

“No difficult engagements, then?”

“No,” Camilla said, “the world is quiet for now, at least for Rutulian Security; however, there is one more thing I think you should be aware of: I have heard from Messapus and Venulus that Lady Terri-Belle has approached them both, hoping to lure them away from your service into the Imperial Guard.”

“Is that so?” Turnus growled. “How did they respond?”

“They told me they had declined, my lord,” Camilla said. “Apparently, they prefer a regular wage and a degree of comfort; however, it is something I thought you should be aware of.”

“Indeed,” Turnus muttered. Of all the cheek, to steal my men out from under me when my back is turned. “And how is Juturna?”

Camilla smiled. “As well as always. She has been invited to Yan Ming’s birthday party and requires a new dress.”

“Of course,” Turnus said, smiling himself. “Well, if there’s nothing else, I won’t disturb you anymore.”

“Enjoy Vale, my lord.”

“I am looking forward to meeting Miss Rose,” Turnus said, “but apart from that, I shall be glad to be home again.”

“Nevertheless, I hope you find some joy in it,” Camilla said. “Goodbye, my lord.”

“Goodbye,” Turnus said. He hung up again.

Two down, one to go.

Although, as he sat there, he actually debated whether or not he should call Calla. He didn’t believe that she was involved … but he hadn’t suspected Calliope either.

But they had not arrested Calla.

And it must be hard for her, to find out what her sister had done.

And so he called her. It took her some time to answer, the scroll vibrating in his hand as he waited, seconds passing, rising to over a minute, creeping towards a minute and a half.

He was about to end the call himself when she answered. Her hair was dishevelled, and her eyes were red, as though she had been crying.

“Turnus,” she murmured. “I … what are you—?”

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” Turnus told her. “I … heard the news.”

“Of course you did,” Calla whispered. She glanced away from the screen of her scroll for a second. “I … I didn’t know. I had no idea. I swear to … on my parents’ memories, I didn’t know.”

“I believe you,” Turnus said, quietly but firmly at the same time.

“I don’t know how Calli could do something like this,” Calla said. “I mean … the way we grew up, in Mantle, I just … how could she … how could she?”

“I don’t know,” Turnus said. “What about you? Are you in any trouble?”

“I haven’t spoken to the police since they shut down head office,” Calla said. “But I have reporters outside my house, and protesters, and … it feels like all anyone cares about is that I’m her sister. I’m … my sister is a monster, but since she’s in jail waiting for her arraignment, people are looking at me instead.”

“Do you think you’d be better away from Atlas?” Turnus suggested.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’d still be welcome in Mistral,” Turnus said. “Come and stay, for as long as you like, as my guest. I can protect you and your family, if you need it.”

Calla sniffed, wiping her eyes with one hand. “That … that’s sweet of you,” she said. “Especially since … what about … Camilla? That was her name, wasn’t it? Didn’t you tell me that—?”

“Yes,” Turnus said. “She was. But you aren’t guilty of your sister’s crimes, and Camilla is mature enough to understand that.”

“Well, like I said, that’s very sweet of you,” Calla said, “but my job is here, my life is here; I … I don’t want to uproot my family and my whole life and run away to Mistral just because I’m having a bad day. I’m sure that this will blow over. I hope that it’ll blow over.”

“My offer stands, if it does not,” Turnus said, “but I hope that things improve for you.”

“Thanks,” Calla said. “I really, really hope so too.”


“A spokesman for the Atlesian military announced that they had liberated four more illegal facilities. Those who were being held there are presently receiving medical treatment, and the Atlesian Council has voted to provide assistance with rehabilitation and repatriation if required.”

“Those poor people,” Ruby murmured, as everyone sat at or around their table in the canteen watched or listened to the news coming out of Pyrrha’s scroll.

“At least Leaf’s okay,” Sunset pointed out.

“Yeah, and that’s great,” Ruby said, “but what about everyone else?”

“Then … yeah, it’s rough,” Sunset agreed.

“I can hardly believe it,” Pyrrha said quietly. “Obviously, discrimination against the faunus is not something one can be unaware of, but … this?”

“It seems as though it’s all getting worse everywhere, doesn’t it?” Ruby asked. “I mean, what’s happening in Vale, and now this?”

“This has been going on for a long time,” Sunset pointed out. “A very long time. Whatever’s happening in Vale right now, it’s nothing to do with this, and it isn’t part of some pattern of racism breaking out suddenly across Remnant, unless what’s breaking out suddenly is people noticing the racism.”

“That’s not fair, Sunset,” Ruby said. “Vale isn’t usually like this; something has changed.”

“She’s right,” Yang agreed. “Ruby and I didn’t grow up in the city, but we’ve visited it often enough, and I never saw anything like what you told us happened to those kids you know. Someone following them down the street, hurling insults at them? That’s not normal; something has happened around here.”

“Something has gotten more overt,” Sunset replied, “but feelings don’t just come out of nowhere; they were always there, just waiting for an opportunity to come out.”

“But what opportunity?” Ruby asked. “Why now?”

“The White Fang attacks?” Jaune suggested. “After the Breach, maybe people who hate the faunus feel like it’s okay to admit it, since…”

“Since what?” asked Sun.

Jaune shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Nothing, I—”

“No, go on, you about to say something.”

“Dude,” Neptune said.

“Jaune didn’t mean anything by it,” Pyrrha said.

“Then why doesn’t he finish his sentence?” demanded Sun.

“That’s enough,” Sunset declared, her voice as firm as a brick dropping onto the table in front of Sun. “You can be upset about this if you want to, nobody here is going to tell you that you can’t be, but Jaune had nothing to do with this, and he doesn’t deserve to have it taken out on him.”

Sun stared at her, looking straight into Sunset’s eyes. “Doesn’t this make you angry?” he asked.

“To be honest, at the moment I’m more surprised that you, of all people, are morally outraged about all this,” Sunset replied.

“Me?” Sun gasped. “What do you mean, me of all people?”

“You never seemed to care about any of this stuff before now,” Sunset pointed out. “And by the rules of Vacuan society, didn’t all of these people have it coming for being too weak to stop it being done to them?”

“That isn’t how Vacuo works,” Sun insisted. “And as for … yeah, it’s true, I wasn’t … in Vacuo, we don’t have that kind of discrimination, so I didn’t think about it too much, but … it’s different hearing about this, seeing the pictures.” He shook his head. “It makes you think. It’s making me think, anyway.”

“How about you think about how this isn’t Jaune’s fault before you start getting snippy with him in future?” Sunset muttered. “Especially since he might be right. Perhaps the White Fang attacks … and the Breach, perhaps it did give people in Vale a license to be as bigoted as they’d always wanted to be, because … because they could claim that they were delivering righteous retribution or something.”

“Righteous retribution hardly seemed to be in the mind of that contemptible ruffian we ran into,” Pyrrha pointed out. “He didn’t mention the Breach at all.”

“No,” Sunset admitted. “No, he didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that he could have felt emboldened by it. I mean, if Ruby and Yang are right, and this isn’t normal Valish behaviour—”

“It isn’t,” Yang insisted.

“Then something had to happen to cause the change, right?” Sunset asked.

“Vale’s still doing better than Atlas, by the sounds of it,” Nora said.

“I’m not sure that what is happening in Atlas was motivated by racism,” Ren declared. “The arrested head of security was a faunus, after all, and people … people with no families, and no one to miss them, are taken advantage of the world over, whether they’re faunus or human.”

Nora slipped her hands into the crook of Ren’s arm, clasping both hands around his slender bicep and drawing herself closer to him.

“So we should just ignore the fact that the victims were all faunus and act like that had nothing to do with it?” demanded Sun.

“What’s gotten into you?” Yang asked.

“What do you think?” Sun cried, getting to his feet. “I never thought that … I always thought that the White Fang were the problem, that they were the ones causing trouble, that they were the ones who went around hurting people to get what they wanted while being holier than thou about it to anyone who disagreed with them.”

“They are,” Yang told him.

“Are they?” Sun asked. “Or are they just…” He paused for a moment. “I don’t see how Blake can want to live in Atlas, after this.”

“Blake and Rainbow Dash brought this to light,” Sunset pointed out.

The news had made a point of that, along with emphasising Calliope Ferny’s faunus nature: a crime committed by a faunus, that was exposed by the action of a pair of faunus. No doubt, there was a propagandising purpose in that — this is faunus doing things to other faunus, and more faunus stopped them! Please don’t call us racist! Please keep buying dust from the SDC! — but that didn’t change the fact that it was true, and Sunset had no doubt that it was true, because neither Blake nor Rainbow would allow their names to be attached to something they hadn’t actually done. Rainbow would never steal glory from anyone else, and Blake wouldn’t countenance her identity being used to deflect from actual pressing issues.

If the news said that the two of them had dragged this darkness into the light, then they had done it.

“And good for them,” Sun said. “I still don’t get why that’s not enough to get them to run from that place. How can they want anything to do with a kingdom that treats the faunus like that?”

“Because Blake thinks it can be changed for the better,” Sunset said, “and so does Rainbow, to the extent that she also thinks it needs changing.”

“Even if they’re right, why do they have to be the ones to do it?” Sun demanded. “Shouldn’t humans be the ones working to make things better?”

Sunset shrugged. “I suppose they feel like if you don’t get in the game, you can’t complain about the way it’s played. They might not be right, but…”

“I’m starting to wonder if maybe Blake was right when she was in the White Fang,” Sun muttered.

“Dude!” Neptune exclaimed. “Come on, that … that’s too far.”

“Is it?” Sun asked. “I … maybe it is. I don’t know, I … don’t know.” He walked away, heading towards the exit, his tail dragging along the ground behind him.

He didn’t look back.

“Are you going to go after him?” Yang asked.

It took Sunset a moment to realise that she was talking to her. “Me? Why me?”

“You’re both faunus,” Yang pointed out.

Not exactly. “That doesn’t mean that I have anything useful, insightful, or otherwise valuable to say to him.” She glanced at Neptune. “You know, he’s actually quite sheltered, isn’t he?”

“I’m not sure that I’d call being from Vacuo sheltered,” Neptune replied. “But … I guess I know what you mean.”

“I mean that he might not be so upset with this if he’d grown up with the kind of background ambient racism of Atlas or Mistral,” Sunset said. “Or Vale, depending upon interpretation.”

“That’s true,” Neptune agreed. “I’m not a faunus, so I can’t say whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but … this stuff’s been a shock to him. He doesn’t mean what he said about the White Fang; he just needs time.”

Or maybe he’s actually right, Sunset thought. She didn’t say it, because she didn’t want the argument with everyone, but … she was not a faunus by birth, and so the justice of the faunus cause in and of itself did not speak to her except in as much as racism affected people she cared about, but as an abstract … obviously, it would be for the best if everyone could coexist peacefully as the different races of ponies did in Equestria, working together for a better world where nobody suffered from discrimination at the hands or hoofs of anyone else. Apart from anything else, it was, on the evidence of Equestria, the best way to advance a society. However, failing that, a situation where one group was allowed to mistreat another, and that was deplorable in the abstract, but the moment those being mistreated did anything about it that was monstrous was … pretty lopsided. And not just for the faunus either; Sunset was pretty sure that was the root of why Cinder was the way she was: yes, all those rather bloodthirsty Mistralian heroes hadn’t helped, but at the root of it was a world in which killing your abuser was held to be worse than the abuse itself.

Blake and Rainbow Dash thought that if you worked hard enough, then you could make something like an Equestria on Remnant, and good for them for thinking it. Sunset had nothing but respect for what they were committing themselves to. But, at the same time, if Sun’s reaction to this news was to think that it was a bit much that faunus could be put in what were, essentially, slave camps, be branded with the letters SDC as Adam had been, but weren’t allowed do anything to fight back, then Sunset wouldn’t blame him for it.

Yang sighed. “So many problems.” She grinned at Pyrrha. “It’s a pity that we can’t all seek out our troubles and beat them up, right, Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha chuckled. “As Blake told me herself, I was fortunate that there was someone on whom I could focus and vent my displeasure.”

“How’s it going, by the way?” asked Yang. “With … all that stuff.”

“I decided to let Arslan release the video of the battle, with a few edits,” Pyrrha replied. “Some people are now insisting it was all staged, but Arslan tells me that views are high and comments are mostly positive. Although it hasn’t stopped a petition to have my honours stripped from the Temple of Victory and my name struck from the rolls of tournament victors.”

“Can they do that?” Jaune asked.

“If the Temple decides that I have disgraced myself to the extent that I no longer deserve to have my name upon the sacred rolls or my honours displayed in the sacred place, then they can,” Pyrrha replied. “It has been done before, in cases of extreme dishonour.”

“And yet, you don’t seem particularly upset by it,” Sunset pointed out, because Pyrrha’s voice and tone were really quite calm about the whole thing.

“I have done what I can do,” Pyrrha replied, still sounding very calm considering. “I have shown people the truth; if they do not want to see or are determined to believe ill of me in spite of the evidence, then there is nothing I can do to change their minds.” She smiled softly. “I know what I am now, or perhaps I should say I know what I am once again, or … I know what I am, and let that be enough. If they wish to take my laurels down, then let them; I need them not.”

Sunset snorted. “You’re a better person than I am; I’d be spitting feathers.”

“Well, I still have some hope that common sense, and my fans who are apparently organising against it, will prevail,” Pyrrha admitted. “But if not, then I can live with it.”

That fight really did help, didn’t it?

You see, Twilight? I told you fighting was the way to solve problems.

“What do you think’s going to happen to the SDC?” asked Ruby, bringing the conversation back on topic.

“They’ll wriggle free somehow,” Sunset said.

“Kind of cynical, don’t you think?” Yang replied.

“Sadly, it is true that those with money and power often escape the consequences that befall those without,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Yeah,” Neptune agreed. “It’s true in Mistral, and probably true in Atlas too.”

“But people won’t just forget about this, right?” Yang said. “I mean, it’s too huge.”

“We’ll see,” Sunset said. “But, even if people do forget…”

“What?” Ruby asked.

“Well … Sun might not be the only one thinking that the White Fang have more of a point that they’d considered before,” Sunset said.


Lord Kiro was staying at a hotel in Vale, with the entirety of his party, but the Mistralian embassy had sent a car to collect him and Turnus — and Lausus and Tarpeia as escorts — and convey them to the consulate. There, into an interior room with no windows and only one door in or out.

"Lausus, Tarpeia, guard the door," Turnus instructed them.

"Yes, my lord," Lausus replied.

Turnus said nothing further to him as he and Kiro followed the ambassador into the room. It was an office space, by the looks of it, albeit the office space of someone important enough to have a door which locked and several filing cabinets which also locked. Judging by the picture sitting on the desk of a young girl and a woman to whom Turnus and Elagabalus had been introduced to as the ambassador's wife when they arrived, he guessed that it must be the ambassador's own office.

Else there was a lot about his wife which he didn't know.

A painting of Mistral, viewed from one of the nearby hills, by the great artist Hesiod, sat in a solid frame of varnished wood upon the back of the wall; so too did a somewhat faded poster for The White Wolf, a great tournament champion — her record of three consecutive victories had only been eclipsed last year by Pyrrha Nikos — from somewhat over a generation ago who had recently passed away. A Mistralian flag sat in the corner of the room, while the desk was cluttered with little models of dragons that seemed to be drawn from every myth that ever featured one.

Sitting alongside the family photo, nestled amongst the dragons as though they kept guard over it, was a box, a wooden casket about as high as a hand but twice as wide, carved with images of soldiers, traditionally armed with shields and spears, marching around it.

"Of course, you can't take this with you just yet," Lord Wong said in his guttural, slightly accented voice, as he approached the desk. The Mistralian Ambassador to Vale was a middle-aged man, well built without being portly, with a round, slightly pock-marked face and very short dark hair that was only compensated for by the decidedly modest moustache and goatee upon his upper lip and chin respectively. He wore a dark suit in the Valish style and walked with the aid of an ebony cane, with a gold head fashioned in the shape of an eagle. It tapped upon the grey floor tiles as he walked towards the box. "First Councillor Emerald will formally hand it over to Mistral at the reception tomorrow evening, but we can keep it here in the embassy until then, and I thought that you might appreciate a look at it."

"I would," Elagabalus whispered, almost reverently. "Very much so."

Lord Wong smiled. "I've been lobbying for this ever since I was appointed ambassador almost ten years ago now. There have been times when I thought this day would never come." He reached out and opened the wooden cask. "Behold: the Heart of Mistral."

"'Sharper than diamonds, redder than blood,'" Turnus whispered, quoting an old saying that had been said of the Heart in days long ago, before it was lost to the Valish.

The Heart of Mistral was very large, too large for him to have placed it in his palm and enclosed it from sight within his fingers; he might have touched his thumb with his middle finger, but the blood red gem would have been visible regardless. It was not quite heart-shaped — those who first dug it from the ground and then cut it had not been so romantic, but nevertheless, there was enough about the roughly hexagonal shape to suggest it, in conjunction with knowledge of where it had been found and, of course, the beautiful colour. In particular, it had a very sharp point at the bottom — so sharp, it could almost have been used as a weapon — compared with a much softer upper side. Light seemed to glint off it from all directions, giving it a sparkle from wherever it was looked at.

It had been worn in various different ways throughout history: the Nikos princess to whom it had been given on her marriage to Lord Kiro's ancestor had worn it set in a pearl necklace; a later Lady Kiro had preferred a diamond necklace, another still had worn it as a brooch, and at times, Lords of the Kiro family had worn it as part of Sun badges like the one upon Elagabalus' chest. The last Lord Kiro to possess it, he who had perished at the Battle of Four Sovereigns, had worn it on the turban that he wore into battle. Now it was on its own, devoid of setting or additional ornament, only the ruby, the ruby which, he had to say, was quite dazzling enough.

"Incredible," Elagabalus said. "Accounts, pictures … they fail to do it justice." He paused for a moment. "Lord Wong, would you leave Lord Rutulus and myself alone for a moment?"

Lord Wong hesitated. "I—"

"I trust that our honour places us above suspicion of seeking to abscond with the Heart," Elagabalus said, his voice prickling a little.

Lord Wong smiled thinly. "Of course, lords. I understand that this reunion with your family legacy must be … emotional. I will leave you in peace for a moment." Again, his cane tapped upon the floor as he walked to the door, leaving the wooden box open and the Heart of Mistral exposed to view.

No sooner had the door closed behind him than Elagabalus strode over to the desk, the tails of his coat flapping behind him, and lifted the ruby out of its box and held it up directly to the lights that hung from the ceiling.

It sparkled so brightly that Turnus had to turn away, his eyes were dazzled by it.

"Beautiful," Elagabalus said, "absolutely beautiful, no? 'Sharper than diamonds, redder than blood.'"

"Not blood, I think," Turnus said. "More…"

"More what?" asked Elagabalus.

More the red of Camilla's eyes, was what Turnus had been thinking; he found it strangely easy to imagine the ruby against her fair skin, worn on a white gold chain around her neck. But that was very strange to think, and would have been stranger still to say, and so he said, "Red like eyes, I think, red eyes, rather than blood."

"'Red eyes'?" Elagabalus repeated. "What are you talking about? It doesn't matter. At any rate … stunning." He held onto the jewel, but he did lower it down from the light, enabling Turnus to look at him again. "Does it seem right to you that this treasure, this heirloom of my house, should pass from a museum in Vale to a museum in Mistral, and I am accorded nothing but the honour of bearing it homeward?"

"It should be yours," Turnus agreed. "What claim does Mistral have to it if you have none, after all? But the Steward and the Council have decreed it otherwise."

Elagabalus snorted. "The Steward, the Council; I am descended from the Imperial line through marriage, as people will remember when I return home with this, the bridal gift given to Lavinia. Why should I obey the commands of a mere Steward or a Council of elected mediocrities?"

"You…" Turnus glanced towards the door. "You wish to claim the throne?"

"Why not?" Elagabalus asked, placing the Heart of Mistral back in the wooden casket. "I have the right, I have the blood."

"Perhaps, if the line of Nikos was extinct," Turnus pointed out. "It is not; there is a direct descendant living yet."

"That's a rather absurd term, don't you think? 'A direct descendant'; how is her descent any more direct than mine?"

"She has the name," Turnus said.

"She does not want the throne," Elagabalus pointed out.

"True," Turnus allowed. "But that does not mean … our present system is poor, true, and I will allow that you have a claim, if not the best at present. I will even say that you might be a reasonable enough Emperor—"

"I thank you for that lukewarm compliment."

"Any sovereign would be better than the circus of self-serving greed to which we are presently subjected," Turnus muttered, "but just because you want to be Emperor does not mean anyone else wants you on the throne. The people seem depressingly wedded to our current system of rule. You would be arrested at once, and lucky to escape with your life, let alone your wealth, lands, titles."

"Not with your support," Elagabalus said.

Turnus was silent for a moment, his eyes widening, his mouth hanging slightly open. "You … is that what this is about? You want my swords, my men, to put you on the throne?"

"They are supposed to be skilled," Elagabalus pointed out.

"My men have the hearts of tigers, every one," Turnus declared, "but they would each need to fight with the strength of gods to … do you have any idea what you are asking of me?"

"I'm asking you to help me make Mistral a better place," said Elagabalus.

"You're asking me to stick my head into a lion's mouth," Turnus snapped. "I have less than a hundred men, all told; so few might triumph over the Imperial Guard, but they could not hold all the kingdom, or even the palace, once the slopes of Mistral rose up to tear you down."

"You are afraid," Elagabalus said, his lip curling in distaste.

"I have responsibilities," Turnus replied firmly. "What would become of Juturna, when my head was on a pike alongside yours as a warning to traitors?"

He was not blind to the possibility that he might die in the course of his work; his will named Camilla as Juturna’s guardian and the trustee of his estate until his sister married — as well as leaving her Rutulian Security in her own right as sole owner. But if Camilla were to die alongside him in some foredoomed and farcical coup attempt, what then? There was no one else he trusted to take care of his sister.

"And so you will do nothing?"

"If doing nothing keeps my people alive, yes," Turnus said.

"Though Mistral declines ever further?" Elagabalus asked.

Turnus was silent for a moment. "Did you know that Tarpeia, outside the door, is a champion axe thrower?"

"No," Elagabalus murmured. "I can't say that I did."

"It's not a very well-known sport, but very competitive, with spectators who make up for their small numbers with immense enthusiasm," Turnus explained. "The trophies she has won are rather small, but then, it's the honour, and the glory of victory, that counts, is it not?"

"What is your point?"

"The point is that these are my men," Turnus said. "My retainers, my family; their lives matter to me. I will not throw their lives away, not even for Mistral. If you would do this thing, then raise men of your own, that you may be callous with their lives, for you will not be careless with mine."

Elagabalus was silent for a moment. Then he smiled. "Of course. Of course. As you say, you have your responsibilities, and those responsibilities are not to me, or even to Mistral. I apologise if I have given you any offence. Will you dine with me tonight, let me treat you, as a show of my contrition?"

"Kind of you, but no," Turnus said. "I'm having dinner with a friend of Juturna's tonight, my first time meeting her."

"A friend of Juturna's, here?" Elagabalus asked. "Who?"

"A Beacon student," Turnus explained. "Her name is Ruby Rose."


“Uh, hello?” Ruby said as she answered her scroll, surprise making her voice go higher up in pitch than normal.

The man whose face appeared in the screen of her scroll had long black hair with streaks of red in it, like the embers burning amongst hot coals. His eyes were blue, and his features were sharp, without any softness in them.

“Are you … Turnus Rutulus?” Ruby asked, because he looked similar to the picture that Juturna had sent her.

“I have the honour,” he said, smiling, which provided a little of the softness that wasn’t otherwise there on his face. “And do I have the pleasure of addressing Miss Ruby Rose?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “That’s me. It … it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, Miss Rose,” Turnus said. “As it happens, I’m in Vale at the moment; did Juturna tell you I was coming?”

“Yes,” Ruby said. “Yes, she did.” Although with everything that’s been going on with Pyrrha, I kind of forgot a little.

“Excellent,” Turnus said. “I did wonder if she might forget. In any case, it won’t come as a shock to you if I ask for the pleasure of your company at dinner tonight?”

Ruby had forgotten about that too, but it probably wasn’t a good idea to say so, especially as it came rushing back to her. “Oh, y-yeah, of course. I … I’d like that.”

“Wonderful,” Turnus said. “If I pick you up at seven, will that be agreeable to you?”

“Pick me up?”

“Yes, I was going to hire an airship and fly up there, unless that will be a problem?”

“I don’t think so,” Ruby said, because as far as she knew, there wasn’t a rule against private airships landing on the docking pads; they didn’t get a lot of use in the evenings anyway, so Turnus shouldn’t have any trouble finding a spot. “And seven, yeah, that’ll be okay.”

She wondered if he was going to ask where she wanted to go to eat, but he didn’t; he just said, “That’s settled then. I look forward to meeting you in person, Miss Rose.”

“Me too,” Ruby said. “Um … bye.”

“Farewell until this evening,” Turnus said, and then hung up on her.

Ruby snapped her scroll shut and looked around the dorm room. “I’d completely forgotten all about this,” she admitted.

“That’s … understandable,” Pyrrha murmured. “I did draw rather a lot of attention to myself. Speaking of which, this reminds me that I’ve been invited to a reception at the Mistralian embassy tomorrow night, to celebrate the return of the Heart of Mistral; Jaune, would you mind coming with me as my plus one?”

Jaune hesitated for a moment. “Is that guy going to be there?”

“Very probably yes,” Pyrrha admitted. “I know this is terribly short notice, but it just got driven out of my mind. If you don’t want to—”

“No, I’ll go with you; of course, I will,” Jaune said. “I wouldn’t make you show up alone.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Well, if you hadn’t wanted to, then I would have asked Sunset,” she said. “But I’m glad you’re willing to go.”

“Thanks very much,” Sunset muttered, although she was smiling. “As for you, Ruby, as much as you might have forgotten, it doesn’t seem to matter too much, he’s got everything in hand by the looks of things.”

“But I haven’t had a chance to think about anything!” Ruby cried. “What should I wear? What should I say? When Juturna told me that her brother wanted to meet me, it didn’t feel like a big deal because I was having a fight with Yang and because it wasn’t happening right this instant, but now it is happening tonight, and I don’t do well with this kind of thing.”

“What kind of thing? New people?” Sunset asked. “You’re the most outgoing person I know.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” Sunset cried. “You hit it off with Penny, you hit it off with Juturna, you hit it off with Leaf, you make new friends like that.” She snapped her fingers. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Except that Turnus isn’t here to make friends, is he?” Jaune said.

“Well, maybe not, but so what? He’ll make one anyway,” Sunset declared. “What are you worried about?”

Ruby clasped her hands together in her lap where sat on her bed. “It sounds … pretty formal, don’t you think?”

“Turnus will probably choose a high class establishment to dine,” Pyrrha agreed. “Or at the very least, since I don’t believe he’s very familiar with Vale, it will be somewhere expensive.”

“Somewhere the portions are really tiny?” Ruby asked.

“Quite possibly,” Pyrrha admitted. “If you’re worried about what to wear … I would wear something formal that suits the setting and shows … a degree of respect for the location and for Turnus himself. But at the same time, this isn’t a date, and Turnus is nine years older than you—”

“He is?” Ruby asked. “But Juturna’s only about my age.”

“Some families end up with big age differences,” Jaune said. “My oldest sister Rouge is fourteen years older than I am.”

“I guess so,” Ruby admitted. “Sorry, Pyrrha, what were you saying?”

“I was just going to say that since this isn’t a date, and Turnus is much older than you, you don’t want to wear anything too attractive,” Pyrrha said.

Ruby frowned a little as she considered all of that. “I … Pyrrha, that doesn’t really help.”

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said. “Why don’t we take a look at what you’ve got and see if we can find anything suitable?”

That sounded reasonable enough, as ideas went, and so all four of them went to the big walk-in closet that sat behind the wall on the left-hand side of the dorm room, with a door directly opposite the bathroom door on the right. Inside the closet, once the light was on, they could see the plastic dividers that separated the parts of the closet belonging to Sunset, Jaune — he had the smallest section — Pyrrha — she had the largest – and Ruby. The closet was large enough that they could all get inside — or at least, Ruby, Pyrrha, and Sunset could, with Jaune hanging back a little bit — and rummage through Ruby’s section of the closet, making scraping noises as they moved wire hangers back and forth across the metal rail that ran beneath the ceiling.

“How about this one?” Ruby asked, as she pulled down a red dress with a knee length skirt, an illusion neckline and a black sash tied around the waist.

“That looks very cute,” Pyrrha said, “but I’m not sure—”

“I’m not sure that Ruby is going to have anything in here that doesn’t look at least cute,” Sunset pointed out. “I mean, if it was ugly, then why would she have it?”

“I never said to wear something ugly,” Pyrrha replied.

“No, you didn’t,” Sunset admitted. “But … don’t you think it’s possible that you might be projecting just a little bit here? I can see why you wouldn’t want to wear anything attractive around this guy, but he’s not likely to try and hit on Ruby, is he?” She paused. “Is he?”

“I don’t believe so, no,” Pyrrha said. “Turnus has his faults, but I’ve heard nothing to make me think that that is one of them. Nevertheless, it wouldn’t hurt to look at a few more choices.” She began to look through the items on the rack. “What about … hmm, you really don’t have anything that isn’t pretty cute, do you, Ruby?”

“Thanks, I think,” Ruby said.

“I think this is fine,” Sunset said, holding the red dress with the black sash that Ruby had gotten down from the railing.

“Hmm,” Pyrrha murmured. “What about … this one?”

She pulled down another dress down off the rack. This dress, too, was red, with a skirt that also extended just past the knees to the upper calves, although this skirt was pleated, a fact that served to help disguise the fact that it was barely A-line. It was a one-piece, the bodice the same red as the skirt, extending up to the black collar which, although off the shoulder, was too high up to reveal anything. It had black bows upon the shoulders themselves, with little tails of fabric dropping down to where they would have tickled Ruby’s arms if she were wearing the dress.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “You say that this is too cute, and you pick that?”

“Well, you were the one who pointed out that Ruby didn’t have anything to wear that wasn’t cute,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“Yes, yes I did, but still,” Sunset said. “I suppose it’s really Ruby’s choice, isn’t it? Which do you prefer?”

“Uh,” Ruby hesitated, looking back and forth between the dress in Sunset’s hand and that in Pyrrha’s. “I, uh … that one,” she said, pointing at the one that Pyrrha was holding. “Is that okay?”

“I think so,” Pyrrha said.

“And like I said, it’s your choice.”

Ruby sighed. “I’m going to have to wear high heels again, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Sunset said. “Yes, you will.”

Ruby groaned. “Okay, so, that’s what I’m wearing. What should I talk to him about?”

“Let him talk about himself,” Sunset suggested as she put the other dress back and wandered out of the closet. “Self-important people love the chance to go on about themselves; just smile, nod, and occasionally make sympathetic noises, and you’ll be fine.”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured reproachfully as she and Ruby followed her out of the closet and back into the dorm room. “Turnus will probably want to talk about Juturna.”

“Of course, right,” Ruby said. Yeah, that was obvious; that was the whole reason he wanted to meet her in the first place.

Sunset grinned. “Why are you so worried about this?”

“I’m not worried.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose.

“I’m … concerned,” Ruby admitted. “But only because … Pyrrha said this was a big deal. What if … what if I can persuade him to—?”

“I wouldn’t advise you to try and do anything like that,” Pyrrha said.

“You don’t know what I was going to say!”

“No, but I can guess,” Pyrrha said. “It’s very sweet of you to think about it, but my relations with Turnus are … mine. You shouldn’t put yourself in the middle of them. Avoid the subject, if you can.”

“Okay,” Ruby murmured. “What about weapons, does he like weapons?”

“He likes Atlas, if that isn’t too simplistic a way of putting it,” Pyrrha said. “He may have an appreciation for technology; honestly, I don’t know him very well.”

“You’ll be fine,” Sunset assured her. “And even if it isn’t fine, then what does it really matter anyway? This isn’t someone you have to see again ever. Just show up, eat the fancy food, and don’t worry about it.”

“Is that what you used to do when it came to things like this?”

“No,” Sunset admitted. “When I used to get invited to formal dinners — usually by people who were interested in my connections to Princess Celestia — I used to be terrified that I would embarrass the princess by behaving in a gauche way that would reflect badly on her and the way that she’d taught me. But you don’t have a Princess Celestia, and there isn’t anyone who Turnus Rutulus could think badly of if you don’t meet his expectations. Seriously, I’m telling you, there is nothing whatsoever to worry about.”

Ruby appreciated that Sunset was trying, but nevertheless, she didn’t entirely believe her. Nevertheless, as the hour approached, she put on the red dress with its pleated skirt and put on her black high heels once more — she still didn’t like the way they felt, or how it felt to move in them — and clasped a simple black choker around her neck.

Sunset went with her down to the docking pad. Pyrrha and Jaune stayed behind in the dorm room for obvious reasons, but Sunset was there beside her as she stood in front of the docking pads as seven o’clock drew nearer, watching the sky that had gone dark already as the Atlesian airships big and small patrolled the skies over Vale.

Ruby was wearing her cloak, partly because she felt comfortable doing so and partly because it was starting to get a little chilly out. She wrapped the cloak around herself a little bit as she waited.

A Bullhead rose up into view, its snub nose pointed towards them before it moved the last short distance horizontally to put it directly over the central docking pad, where it set down. The engines stopped, and the great doors on the right-hand side of the airship swung open.

Turnus Rutulus leapt down from out of the airship. He was wearing a tiger stripe suit, black and orange stripes alternating with one another right down his jacket and pants, all the way to his shoes, while beneath the jacket, he wore a white dress shirt with a red bow tie. Around his waist, he wore a black and white sash like a zebra — or a white tiger, Ruby realised abruptly, and felt glad that she had before she said anything about zebras.

His picture made him look tall and well-built, broad-shouldered and muscular; that was behind the point Ruby had made to Jaune, that he didn’t need to worry about his lack of the same because if Pyrrha had been interested in that, well … there was this guy.

His picture did him justice, just about. He really was a big guy, in every sense.

Except that, as he walked towards her, looming over her, he seemed to get smaller somehow, to not loom so much. He had looked taller and broader than Jaune; suddenly, he looked only about the same size, perhaps a little smaller, and more slender even.

“Miss Rose, I presume?” Turnus said.

“That’s me,” Ruby said. “But you can call me Ruby.”

“Very well,” he said, “then you may call me Turnus.”

Ruby wondered if she would have been expected to call him Lord Rutulus or my lord otherwise, like Sunset calling Pyrrha’s mother ‘Lady Nikos,’ but it seemed that she didn’t need to do that anyway, so that was a bullet dodged.

To be on the safe side, however, she attempted a curtsy — 'attempted' being the operative word; she nearly fell over. “It— it’s nice to meet you,” she said.

Turnus smiled. “Likewise,” he said. He looked at Sunset. “And you must be Sunset Shimmer, leader of Team Sapphire and bearer of Soteria.”

Sunset bowed to him, although it seemed to Ruby that she didn’t bow so deeply as she had to Lady Nikos when they were staying in Mistral. “It gladdens me to know that my reputation precedes me, lord.”

“Camilla had praise for your entire team in action against the Karkadann,” Turnus said, his blue eyes flickering between Ruby and Sunset. “And then this business with the Breach here in Vale. Your names are known, to say the least.” He paused for a moment. “Shall we go, Ruby?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Ruby said. “See you, Sunset.”

“I’ll wait up,” Sunset said. “We all will.” She smiled. “Have fun.”

“I will,” Ruby said. Hopefully, anyway. She followed Turnus beneath the Bullhead’s wing, and then leapt up after him into the airship itself.

“Would you like to join me in the cockpit?” Turnus asked as he headed that way. “It will save me having to shout behind me.”

“Wait, you flew this yourself?” Ruby said as she noticed the absence of a pilot. “You can fly?”

“Yes,” Turnus said, sitting down in the pilot’s seat. “I learned when I worked for the Schnee Dust Company.”

“You worked for the SDC?” Ruby asked.

“Yes,” Turnus murmured. “Yes, I did.”

Ruby hesitated for a moment. “It’s rough, what happened to those people, isn’t it? In Atlas?”

Turnus took a deep breath. “Mmm,” he murmured. “It is, as you say, rather unfortunate.”

He didn’t say anything more about the subject, but began to flip the controls, turning the engines on once more, closing the doors to enclose the airship, and causing the Bullhead to lift up into the air before turning in place to face outwards towards Vale.

Turnus proved to be a decent pilot, guiding the airship nimbly through the skies, descending almost straight away as he flew from Beacon, so that he was beneath the level of the Atlesian warships, before straightening up for a while to fly above the rooftops of the city.

He glanced at her. “I’m told,” he said, “that when you met Juturna, she wanted to sneak out of the Lord Steward’s party with you and go to a club where they sold drugs.”

“Uh…” Ruby hesitated. “I mean … yeah, I guess.”

“Would you have gone with her?” Turnus asked.

“What?”

“If Camilla hadn’t intervened,” Turnus said. “Would you have gone with her?”

“No,” Ruby said. “No, I wouldn’t have.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t do that kind of stuff.”

“You don’t do drugs?”

“No. I mean, no, I don’t, but, what I meant was that … if I’d just snuck out of that party without telling anyone, then Sunset would have been really worried about where I was, and so would Pyrrha, and it would have been really rude to Pyrrha and her mom, I mean to Lady Nikos too. I don’t do that kind of thing.”

Turnus smiled slightly. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said.

Ruby’s eyes narrowed. “Was that a test?”

“No, my questions were honest,” Turnus said. “Unless you mean that, if you had admitted to me that you would have gone with Juturna absent anyone preventing you, it would have demonstrated that you are not the kind of person I want my sister to be in contact with.”

“Is there anyone you do want Juturna to be in contact with?” Ruby asked, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them.

Turnus glanced at her. “That is a bold question.”

“Last time I talked to her, Juturna told me about a movie premiere you’d been to,” Ruby began.

“She complained about the actor, didn’t she?” Turnus asked.

“No,” Ruby said. “She told me about it, but she didn’t complain. She actually told me you two never fight. All the same…”

“Are you wondering whether you should mount a defence of personal freedom?” Turnus asked.

“…maybe,” Ruby admitted. “It isn’t a good feeling when other people decide that they know better than you, and so they’re going to make all of the decisions for you.”

Turnus didn’t reply; he didn’t say anything as he guided the Bullhead down towards the Skydock, setting the airship down alongside a dozen others of the same type. Only once the airship was still and silent did he turn in his seat so that he was facing Ruby.

“I appreciate that you are not from Mistral,” he said. “I appreciate that, in Vale, a different attitude may, and probably does, prevail. But Juturna and I are from Mistral, not from Vale. There are considerations of … Juturna is the heir to a grand old name. In Mistral, only the names of Nikos and Thrax are older or more honourable; there is wealth and land … and she is my heir until, unless, I have a child. It would be remiss of me not to consider that there may be those who see my sister as their meal ticket, unworthy men who pursue her not out of affection but for their own advantage.”

“And you don’t trust Juturna to realise?” Ruby asked.

“No,” Turnus said. “No, I do not.”

“Maybe she would,” Ruby suggested, “if you gave her the chance to see the difference, instead of trying to protect her from everyone.”

Turnus was silent a moment. “She is my sister,” she said. “All other considerations aside, what kind of brother would I be if I stood aside and let her get hurt on the grounds that it might teach her a lesson? How would I answer for that?”

Answer to who? Ruby thought; she could guess the answer. “It must be hard for you,” she said, “losing both your parents.”

Turnus’ eyes widened. “How … what makes you—?”

“I lost my mom when I was little,” Ruby said. “My big sister, Yang, she had to step up in a big way. I get it.”

Turnus’ brow furrowed. “Your father?”

“He was hurting too,” Ruby said softly.

Turnus was silent for a second. “You have my condolences.”

“And you’ve got mine, too,” Ruby said. “For what it’s worth.”

Turnus smiled at her. “It is worth enough,” he said. He unbuckled himself from the pilot’s chair. “Now, shall we claim our reservation?”

Ruby guessed that he was drawing a line under that topic of conversation and didn’t want to talk about the way he treated Juturna or about his parents anymore. She felt like maybe he ought to talk about those things, but at the same time … as much as she thought that she was right when she did it, she was aware that, to some people, she could seem a little … when she thought she was right, she would say so, but that didn’t mean that people always wanted to hear it. Like that time with Arslan.

So she held her tongue upon that subject and said, “Yeah, let’s go.”

There was a taxi waiting for them outside the skydock, which took them to a place called The Northern Bites, a place advertising Atlesian cuisine, with a stark glass and metal front and what looked like some kind of holoprojector just outside.

It looked like, but it was hard to tell exactly because somebody had smashed it up, attacking it with a bat or something until the metal column was dented and the actual emitter was cracked, fault lines running across it.

Someone, presumably the same person or at least part of the same group, had spray-painted an A in bright red letters on one of the windows, and underneath had scrawled the words 'Atlas scum go home.'

An employee, dressed in a black shirt and trousers with a white apron, was trying to scrub it off with a sponge and a bucket of soapy water.

Turnus stared at it as he climbed out of the taxi. "What in Remnant…??"

"Yeah," Ruby murmured. "It … something's going on in Vale. I don't understand it, and I don't know where it's come from, but … it's like people have started hating Atlas, and hating the faunus too. You see stuff like this all over the place. It's … I don't get it. I don't know where it's come from."

"Hmm," Turnus murmured, a frown creasing his features. "Will you excuse me for just one moment?"

"Uh, sure," Ruby agreed.

"Thank you," Turnus said, turning away and fishing his scroll out of his breast pocket. He opened it up and called someone. "Tarpeia?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"I want you and Tulla to take extra care; apparently, there's a lot of anti-faunus feeling in the air at the moment."

"No offence, my lord, but how is that different from any other day?" the woman on the other end of the line — Tarpeia, presumably — asked.

"I'm being serious, Tarpeia," Turnus declared. "I'm told it's spiking to an unusual degree. I know you can handle yourself, but … the two of you watch each other's backs."

There was a moment of silence before Tarpeia said, "Will do, my lord."

"I'm glad to hear it," Turnus said. "That's all; I'll see you back at the hotel tonight."

"Very good, my lord."

Turnus hung up, and put the scroll back in his tiger-stripe jacket as he turned back to Ruby. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," Ruby said. "Tarpeia's a faunus?"

"Yes, she and Tulla both, of the people that I brought with me," Turnus said. "They know their way around a fight, of course, but in this kingdom … I wouldn't want to see them in legal difficulties any more than in physical ones." He smiled. "Although it seems that in this kingdom, one may still challenge one's enemies to single combat without consequence, so perhaps I needn't be worried at all."

Ruby didn't smile back. "That was … I don't like that Pyrrha did that."

Turnus paused a moment before he said, "Shall we go inside? If they aren't open because of all this, then I do apologise, we'll find somewhere else."

"But we might as well see, right?" Ruby asked.

They approached the restaurant, and as they did so, Turnus called out to the man washing the window, "Hello there! Are you open?"

The man looked at them, doing a double take at Turnus' rather colourful suit. "Yes!" he called back, enthusiastically. "Have you got a table booked? Or even if you haven't, really, yes, just go right inside; someone will take care of you."

They duly went in, the doors sliding open for them automatically to admit them into a room of glass tables and metal chairs, pristine white floors, all of it lit by lights that changed colours slowly and subtly, shifting from greens to blues to magenta, violet and indigo; the colours of the rainbow — or the aurora.

The place was not quite empty, there were a couple of well-dressed faunus sitting in one corner, there was a table for four over on the left, but it was very quiet for a restaurant that was open, especially since it wasn't that early in the evening.

Near the door was a standing desk, with a computer terminal upon it and a woman — dressed in black, just like the man outside — standing behind it. She smiled as they approached, but her voice sounded a little more ragged than friendly as she said, "Yes, hello, welcome, how can I help you? Table for two?"

"Yes, I have a reservation in the name Rutulus," Turnus said.

"Then you'd be the first reservation who actually showed up tonight," the woman muttered. "But, uh, welcome to Northern Bites." She grabbed a pair of menus, enclosed in black leather booklets, from the side of her desk. "As you can see, we have plenty of choices, would you like to sit by the—?" She gestured towards the window, but stopped. "No, not there. How about here?" she suggested, beginning to walk already towards a round table in the middle of the restaurant."

Turnus glanced at Ruby.

"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks," Ruby said softly.

"Great," the woman said. "My name is Stephanie, I'll be looking after you today, but I'll just leave you to look at the menus for a few minutes before I come take your order, okay?"

"Thank you," Ruby said, as she sat down. "Do you think people aren't showing up because this is an Atlesian restaurant?"

"Perhaps," Turnus said, "although it seems a fine way to repay Atlas' generosity."

"You mean for the Breach?"

"Yes," Turnus said. "Although I don't mean to diminish your efforts, of course."

"I, uh…" Ruby stopped short of saying that she'd already been unconscious. "A lot of people did what they could."

"I'm sure," Turnus said as he opened up the menu. "Seal meat. Haven't had that in a while."

"Really?" Ruby asked. "That's…" She opened her own menu. "Yeah, that's really on the menu, huh." Seal goujons were an option for the starter, while main meals on offer included seal steak and a seal brisket burger; caribou and whale were also on the menu, alongside the more usual beef and fish. "Do Atlesian really eat this stuff? None of my Atlas friends talk about it."

"Do you talk about food with them very often?"

"We eat it," Ruby said. "But, no, I guess we don't. Still…"

"Caribou is very similar to certain cuts of beef, while being much lower fat," Turnus told her. "It's very good for you; sadly, it's impossible to come by in Mistral, but venison is fairly common, if expensive."

"I … think I'll stick with fish," Ruby said, although even the fish choices were a little fancier than she had been used to — there was no cod and chips on the menu, that was for sure. Nevertheless, when Stephanie returned, Ruby ordered the relatively safe-sounding celery, potato, and salt cod salad, on the grounds that she could understand what all the words meant, and a smoked salmon after. Turnus, who apparently knew what this stuff tasted like, ordered seal skewers and a caribou liver.

"So," Turnus said, when they had ordered. "You're not fond of duelling?"

Ruby was silent a moment. "I'd rather not talk about it, if that's okay."

"Of course."

"In fact, I don't want to talk about Pyrrha at all," Ruby added. "I don't want to tell you something that you can use to—"

"Ruby," Turnus said, "Miss Rose. Whatever my … whatever assurances Lady Nikos gave me, whatever the situation, it was not and would never be my intention to use you in such a way. I wanted to meet you because you're Juturna's friend, nothing more. And also, I admit, because you must be quite skilled to have been admitted to Beacon so young."

"Well," Ruby said. "I try my best. Are you a huntsman?"

"No," Turnus said. "I spent the best part of two years at Atlas Academy, but … it wasn't for me."

"Why not?" asked Ruby.

Turnus paused for a second. "My team died," he said. "They perished on a training mission in my second year. I was the only survivor."

Ruby gasped. "Oh, god!" she cried. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," Turnus assured her. "Are you close to your teammates, if you don't mind me asking?"

Ruby nodded. "They annoy me sometimes, but they're still my best friends."

"Mine just annoyed me," Turnus said, with what seemed to Ruby to be an inappropriately light tone considering the subject. "To pretend to be unduly upset at their passing, to allow you to express your condolences as though I were gravely wounded in the spirit … would be rather dishonest, don't you think?"

Ruby thought that perhaps he ought to have been … well, okay, he didn't need to be traumatised by it or anything, but three people he'd lived with for two years had died around him; he ought to have been a little bit upset about it. But then, it had been a few years ago. Maybe time had healed the wound.

Maybe it wasn't her place to judge either way. "But you decided to found a security company anyway?"

"I did."

"Do you mind if I ask why?"

"Would you mind if I asked why you want to become a huntress, if indeed you do?" asked Turnus.

"I don't mind," Ruby said. "I want to help people."

Turnus waited. "That's … all?"

Ruby shrugged. "Does there need to be anything more?"

"Evidently not," Turnus replied. He took a moment. "Violence … is the birthright of my class. Throughout our history, my family, families like mine, have fought; we are warrior aristocrats."

"Shepherds of the people?" Ruby suggested.

"That is an old term, but one with meaning, yes," Turnus agreed. "I have no need to spin or sow; I live off the labour of others as my ancestors have done. But that gives me leisure to study the blade and the spear; since I do not have to work, I can learn how to fight proficiently. It is an old bargain, and though I sometimes think that in Mistral, we think a little too much upon old things, nevertheless, this particular bargain seems to me a good one."

"Would you have become a huntsman, if you'd graduated?" asked Ruby.

"I don't know," Turnus said. "If you are asking me if I wish that I had become a huntsman, the answer is no, I am happy where I am; I would trade away my men or my company for … what, exactly? I must say that being a huntsman seems to me a rather lonely existence."

"Not all huntsmen work alone," Ruby said. "Some teams stick together after they graduate."

"But some do work alone," Turnus replied. "Many, in fact."

"I guess," Ruby murmured.

"I could not do it," Turnus said. "Certainly not now, after I have experienced working with everyone. No matter how hard the battle, I am never without someone by my side."

"That sounds good," Ruby admitted, "but how did you come up with the idea?"

"Partly, it was my time working for SDC security," Turnus said. "I saw what could be accomplished by a private group, not huntsmen — or at least not all huntsmen — but well-equipped and trained regardless, and more than capable of seeing off attacks by the White Fang or most grimm. And, of course, when I came home to Mistral … the police were so corrupt. There are still corrupt elements present. It felt as though a new force could accomplish something."

"And did you?" asked Ruby.

"I … it isn't all battles," Turnus admitted. "Compared to the life of a huntsman, a lot of private security work is private clients. I have two men playing bouncer at a young noblewoman's birthday party for instance, and then there's security at FightFan Expo each year—"

"What's FightFan Expo?"

"It's a showcase of the tournament fighters," Turnus said. "They meet their adoring public; with photo-ops, autographs, question and answer sessions, it all serves to build hype for the coming tournament season. It's incredibly popular. Security involves making sure that no one dressed as their favourite fighter has brought a real weapon in with them, and no one takes the occasionally revealing cosplay of those who dress up as tournament fighters as an invitation to anything. Plus theft, disruption, antisocial behaviour, the usual sorts of things. Plus, there is also protection for touring artists and my present business escorting the man who will take a prized gemstone home to Mistral. But on the other hand, recently, some of my people caught a stalker who was harassing a singer, we protected a village from bandits and gave them such a bloody nose that I've heard nothing more from them since, and before that, we were part of a raid that rescued several children who would … otherwise have suffered an unthinkable fate." He paused again. "We do good work," he said. "We do enough good work, I think, to balance out, or more than balance out, the frivolity. And yet, good work is only possible because I employ good people. Skilled people, brave people. People like you, perhaps."

"Me?"

"I don't know what your plans are after graduation," Turnus said. "And I certainly wouldn't ask you to drop out of Beacon, but once you graduate, there will be a place for you at Rutulian Security, if you want it. A fair wage, job security, you wouldn't be at the mercy of the job board in lean times. And there's a dental plan."

Ruby chuckled. "That's … that's nice of you to offer. Really, it is, but—"

"But the answer is no?"

"I don't mind being at the mercy of the job board," Ruby said, leaving out any work that she might be doing for Professor Ozpin. "I'd rather take my chances with that than provide security for birthday parties or at FightFan Expo. It's just … it's not what I go to school for."

"I see," Turnus murmured. "Disappointing, but understandable at the same time. Still, if at any point in the next three years you change your mind, let me know. I think Juturna would like having you around, and I wouldn't mind her having a friend like you around either."

"Okay," Ruby promised. "I'll let you know if I change my mind."

But she knew she never would.

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