SAPR

by Scipio Smith

Lady Nikos' Apology (New)

Lady Nikos’ Apology

The skydock bustled with activity. Through the glass skylight above them, Sunset could see a pair of airships moving in, almost at once. One, coming in from the east, was from Mistral, the other, from Atlas, was coming in from the north. Both were performing a stately aerial dance, circling around one another like great flying creatures, like immense birds or whales of the air as they both lined up to land without colliding with one another in mid-air or in the descent.

The skydock was busy already; another airship had just landed about ten or fifteen minutes ago, this one a short-hop flight from Alexandria to the south, and people were still flooding off it to spill out onto the concourse beneath the immense glass skylight. Even if all the passengers had disembarked by now, there were still people milling about the concourse, greeting people, waiting for their cabs, buying the toothpaste they had forgotten to pack or the alcohol they could get cheap from the off-license. Others were sitting or standing in the lounge, waiting for their outbound flight to be called.

Activity was all around, and the air was abuzz with conversations which struck the glass ceiling up above.

Hopefully, it would lessen a bit soon, or Lady Nikos might not be able to spot them in the press.

"Do you think we should have made a sign?" Jaune asked as he and Sunset stood just beyond the egress gate onto the concourse, watching the doors through which Lady Nikos would emerge when she disembarked from her airship and made her way inside.

"Lady Nikos knows what we look like," Sunset replied.

"Yeah, but will she be able to see us?" asked Jaune.

It was a fair point, with so many people around. Nevertheless, Sunset replied, "I do not think Lady Nikos is the sort of person who would wish to be welcomed with a homemade sign held above our heads."

Jaune let out a single laugh, almost a bark except that it wasn't quite loud enough. "I guess you might have a point about that. I'm a little surprised she's flying in an airship, to be honest."

Sunset glanced at him, raising her eyebrows slightly. "As opposed to flying with her wings?"

Jaune rolled his eyes. "No, as opposed to, like, chartering a yacht or something. That's something rich people do, right? They have their own private airships, or they hire them?"

"It is," Sunset allowed, "but I think that if my lady owned her own airship, then she would have sent it for Pyrrha, at least to fly us from Piraeus to Mistral, when we visited. And besides, while I've never been aboard a private yacht, I imagine that with the best will in the world, they're small and a little cramped. It's probably not quite as bad as flying long distance in Rainbow's Skyray, but why would you want to put up with the privations when you can just get a stateroom aboard a skyliner? Plus, it's probably safer."

"You think?"

"You don't?" Sunset responded.

"A larger airship means more people," Jaune said. "More people means more chance of attracting grimm, and one of those airships isn't going to outrun nevermores, is it?"

"No, but a larger ship means someone is more likely to answer your distress call," Sunset said.

"Maybe," Jaune allowed. "Do you think they have huntsmen on board?"

"I have no idea," Sunset admitted. "Ruby would know."

"How do you think she and Penny are getting on with Amber?" asked Jaune.

"I imagine that Penny is learning a lot about knights," Sunset said. "Whether she finds it interesting is something else altogether."

"Knights and princesses," Jaune said.

"Yes, of course, we mustn't leave out the princesses," Sunset said.

She paused for a moment, watching the two airships descend in a slow and steady fashion towards the great tarmac expanse that awaited them outside the dock. A smile played across Sunset's lips.

"Have you considered that you're a bit of a Percy yourself?"

Jaune blinked. "The swan girl? How do you mean?"

"A princess with a grand old name, the heir to a great kingdom—"

"Pyrrha isn't really the heir to anything."

"One whose hand their parent is anxious to give away to someone of their choosing," Sunset went on, "and the knight who chooses to follow their heart, casting all else aside to be ruled by passion."

"That's not funny, Sunset," Jaune declared, folding his arms. "Her mom might actually mean it."

"Right," Sunset murmured. "Yeah, sorry, that was in … sorry, I should have thought."

"It's okay," Jaune muttered.

"Obviously not," Sunset said. "You know, Pyrrha wouldn't have asked us to come down here and meet with Lady Nikos unless her mother had at least given the … outward form of having reconciled herself to your relationship. If she didn't think that Lady Nikos was going to treat you with at least a modicum of courtesy, then she would have left her mother to stew down here, and she wouldn't see her and she wouldn't ask any of us to see her either."

"But you would have come down here to see her anyway, right?" Jaune asked.

"I would," Sunset agreed. "Does that seem like treachery in your eyes?"

Jaune shook his head. "You thought that if Pyrrha were to cut all ties with her mom, then the day would come when she'd regret it. You might have been right about that. We'll never know for sure, but … I was afraid you were right too, that Pyrrha would regret it and that she'd blame me for being the cause of it. That's why … I'm glad you did what you did. And I'm glad that Pyrrha and her mom are talking again; I just … I just wish I knew how she was going to react when she saw me here."

"If I thought that she would be hostile, I wouldn't have asked you to come," Sunset assured him.

"Yeah," Jaune said. "Yeah, you're right." He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling, and shook his arms a little.

Both airships had landed, settling down upon the ground, their wings ceasing to beat. Landed and stationary, they looked quite different to when they were in flight above; they looked like buildings, long buildings of glass and steel.

Yes, definitely more comfortable than chartering a yacht.

The food's probably better too.

"It won't be long now," Sunset murmured.

"Uh huh," Jaune said quietly.

"It'll be fine," Sunset assured him. "Lady Nikos will be the soul of courtesy, I have no doubt. Whatever thoughts she may have harboured about you, you are Pyrrha's boyfriend and look set to stay that way for some time to come, and so I believe that Lady Nikos will wish to reconcile with you, if only for the sake of her own relationship with Pyrrha. In fact, I will go so far as to say that Lady Nikos will be more afraid of you than you are of her."

Jaune's eyes narrowed. "No way, come on; you're just making stuff up to make me feel better."

"I am saying what I believe based on what I know: you are far more secure in Pyrrha's heart than her mother is," Sunset declared. "Of course, Lady Nikos won't actually admit her fear to you — she is too proud for that — but … what she did, what she said, why she did it, it wasn't right. I don't defend it, but … she loves her daughter, after her own fashion. I ask that you try and remember that."

Jaune nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I know. I remember."

"Good," Sunset said.

She glanced around the skydock, taking note of the large number of police officers present on the concourse; and not even regular police, but the ones with machine guns and body armour. They watched the crowd, their faces grim, set in almost scowls, one hand seeming to stay ever close to the triggers of their weapons.

They were there to provide reassurance, part of First Councillor Emerald's drive to reassure the people of Vale, and all its visitors as well, that Vale was safe and there was no further risk of any terrorist action by the White Fang or anyone else.

Not everyone looked reassured. Some people were giving the police a wide berth, glancing at them anxiously, pulling their children away, steering clear. Especially the faunus. Sunset supposed that she could understand why.

People were starting to come in now, the glass doors opening as visitors from Atlas and Mistral alike — and probably some from Vale coming back from Atlas or Mistral too — poured into the lounge and headed towards the egress gates that would release them onto the main concourse and, thence, out into the city itself. There was no sign of Lady Nikos, but as the gates opened and the weight of passengers from two airships poured out, forcing Sunset and Jaune to back away from the gate somewhat, as the air was filled with the sound of voices calling out to one another, Sunset was doubtful whether she could have seen or heard Lady Nikos in any case.

Perhaps Jaune had a point about the sign.

Nevertheless, lacking a sign, Sunset and Jaune waited, even as the crowd flowing out of the gate began to abate, even as they began to see a little more clearly again the lounge and the glass doors beyond.

The doors which opened, the bulk of the press having passed by, the concourse yet being full but the lounge being rather empty, to admit Lady Nikos into the skydock. Pyrrha's mother was dressed in red, in a dress that was long enough to cover her entire legs and her feet too, while not being wide in any sense, falling straight down from her hips to the floor without any expansion of any sort; the bodice was of the same colour, and pooled a little around the waist rather like a peplum, while the collar was white lace with an emerald brooch worn at the neck. Over her bodice, she wore a jacket, also red, with gold detailing upon the lapels and slightly puffed shoulders, along with long sleeves that covered her arms all the way down to her hands, even as her hands were half-concealed beneath a pair of flimsy lace gloves. She walked slowly, with the aid of an ebony walking stick, and moved more stiffly than Sunset remembered from their time in Mistral.

She was followed by a maid dressed in black, with a bag slung across her shoulder and dragging a large suitcase on wheels behind her. The skydock door very nearly closed on it.

Lady Nikos stopped, and leaned upon her stick a moment.

"My lady!" Sunset called out to her.

Lady Nikos' head instantly turned in their direction, although it did not settle there but glanced around a moment, presumably looking for some sign of Pyrrha. Seeing her not, Lady Nikos began to walk towards them, moving with the same stiff gait as before, her stick tapping lightly upon the tiled floor as she crossed the lounge.

She held out one hand, and her maid handed her a scroll, which she held up to the scanner on the egress gate to open it, allowing her and her maid both to depart the lounge and pass onto the concourse.

Then, as the gate closed after them, Lady Nikos turned to face Sunset and Jaune.

"My lady," Sunset said, bowing to her, "I bid you welcome to the Kingdom of Vale."

"My lady," Jaune repeated, somewhat matching Sunset's bow.

"Miss Shimmer," Lady Nikos said, sounding a little out of breath. "It is good to see you again. Mister Arc." She paused a moment. "Pyrrha—"

"Is unavoidably detained, my lady," Sunset said. "She bid us come in her stead, welcome you, and see you safely settled in."

"'Unavoidably detained'?" Lady Nikos repeated. "How?"

"Pyrrha is … recording for a TV programme," Jaune explained. "It's a Mistralian documentary about the Vytal Festival, and she and Arslan Altan are doing some presenting for it."

"Is that so?" Lady Nikos asked. "How did that come about?"

"Arslan did us — did me — a good service, my lady," Sunset admitted. "She asked for Pyrrha to do her this favour in return."

"I see," Lady Nikos said. "Very well then, that is what it is, although I must say they have left it rather late."

"Apparently, the production is almost complete, and the lead time is not onerous, my lady."

"I do seem to recall that the commercial for that ghastly cereal was released very swiftly after the filming was completed," Lady Nikos admitted. "It can be done, I suppose. In any case, Pyrrha is not here, but I am glad not to have been greeted by absence alone."

"It is our pleasure to attend you, my lady," Sunset said.

"Flattery can be carried to excess, Miss Shimmer," Lady Nikos said, a slight degree of amusement entering into her voice. "Nonetheless, I am glad to see … both of you. I would have speech with you, in absence of my daughter. But not here, somewhere more private, and somewhere without this skylight generating such oppressive heat."

"It is cooler without, my lady," Sunset promised. "Much cooler; fall is fully upon us. Does…?” She hesitated a moment, fearful of overstepping the bounds of propriety. But, at the same time, watching Lady Nikos made it very difficult not to ask, “Does my lady require any assistance?”

“No, thank you, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos replied. “I am merely a little stiff from so long cooped up aboard an airship.”

Sunset wasn’t sure exactly how true that was, but nevertheless, she offered a slight bow, and said, “As my lady says. If you will follow me.”

As she turned away, in the direction of the exit, she heard Jaune say, “Do you need any help?”

Sunset looked back at him, wondering why he was offering Lady Nikos the same assistance that he must have just heard her refuse from Sunset, but as she looked back, she realised that he was not speaking to the lady, but to the maid.

He held one hand out in the direction of the large case.

“I’m fine, sir; I can manage,” replied the maid. She had dark hair, flecked with grey, and a few barely visible lines beneath her light brown eyes.

“Are you sure?” Jaune asked.

“Quite sure, sir,” the maid replied, her tone clipped, her voice verging upon sharpness.

“That is … generous of you, Mister Arc,” Lady Nikos said, not looking back at him. “Hestia, permit it.”

The maid — Hestia — hesitated for a moment. Then she curtsied, though her mistress had her back to her. “As you say, ma’am,” she said. “Here you go, young sir.”

“Thanks,” Jaune, taking the case from her now unprotesting hands, lifting it up — it cannot have seemed so heavy to him, with aura, as it had seemed to her — and carrying it along in the wake of Sunset and Lady Nikos as the four of them made their way towards the exit.

Sunset kept her pace slow, so as not to outpace Lady Nikos; she put one foot barely before the other, moving along at an easy pace, betraying no sign of impatience with Pyrrha’s mother as she walked beside her.

She kept her gaze on Lady Nikos, though she tried to hide the fact, in case she slipped or stumbled or it all became too much for her.

It did not, and they made it outside of the skydock, where absent the great skylight, it was much cooler, the crisp fall air lightly tapping them upon the faces. There was a carpark to the south of the skydock, but directly in front of them was an empty taxi rank, and a road flowing by directly beyond, with cars zipping along it, including at least one yellow cab that Sunset could see.

“If my lady will wait here, I will get us a taxi,” Sunset said, before walking out to the edge of the taxi rank and holding out her hand. “Taxi!”

A yellow cab drove past her, completely ignoring her.

So did another one, blind or oblivious to Sunset’s outstretched hand.

Sunset frowned and stepped out into the road, yelling again, “Taxi!”

A car swerved to avoid her, honking its horn as it did so; another yellow taxi drove past without acknowledgement of who she was or what she wanted.

It’s 'cause I’m a faunus, isn’t it?

A scowl settled on Sunset’s face as she stomped back to Lady Nikos and the others.

“Call us a cab, Jaune,” she barked, snapped almost. Perhaps she did snap, although it wasn’t Jaune’s fault. “Please.”

“Uh, right,” Jaune said, putting the heavy case down and walking out to the taxi rank. He didn’t even go as close to the edge of the road as Sunset had before sticking his hand out. “Taxi?”

Two cabs — two cabs, if you please — rolled up.

It was only her desire to maintain her dignity in front of Lady Nikos that prevented Sunset from saying something unseemly.

“So, it is true what has been said in Mistral,” Lady Nikos murmured.

“I have no doubt that many things are said in Mistral, my lady, but I must ask you to be more specific as to what is true,” Sunset murmured.

“That the city of Vale, the heart of this enlightened kingdom of tolerance, as it would proclaim itself, is becoming unsafe for faunus,” Lady Nikos said.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it unsafe, my lady,” Sunset said, as she picked up Lady Nikos’ case and began to carry it towards the first of the two waiting cabs, “but there is an ill-mood against us. I am surprised the word of it has reached Mistral.”

“There is a degree of schadenfreude to it, considering Mistral’s reputation in that regard,” Lady Nikos confessed, “but it is part of news that had some suggesting that it was foolish of me to come here, that this city is becoming a rough, rowdy, violent place, unsafe for good Mistralians.”

“That is exaggerated, my lady, let me assure you,” Sunset declared as she approached the rear of the cab and popped the trunk, lifting Lady Nikos’ case into it. “Some here in Vale are exhibiting coarse manners, towards Atlesians or towards faunus, but this city is as safe as anywhere in Remnant, and more than many places.”

Lady Nikos turned her eyes towards the sky. “I hope the Valish are having joy of our ships,” she remarked.

Hestia got in the front seat of the cab, leaving Sunset, Jaune, and Lady Nikos to share the back. Jaune got in first, scooting across to the far side of the back row, with Lady Nikos getting in after him and Sunset last, leaving her to shut the door after them all.

“Where to, ma’am?” asked the cab driver.

“The Hotel Majestic,” Lady Nikos said.

“Yes, ma’am,” replied the cab driver, pulling away and back into the flow of traffic.

As the taxi drove along, devouring the road beneath it, Sunset looked at Lady Nikos and said, “What news from Mistral, my lady?”

“Mistral?” Lady Nikos responded. “Mistral is Mistral, in all its faults and all its glories too, as it had been these many years past.” She paused a moment. “I suppose that is not entirely accurate; we have broken with our recent past in one crucial aspect: it seems that we are to raise an army.”

Sunset stopped herself from asking why; the answer was plain to see: “Because of the Breach, ma’am?”

“Because Mistral is no longer certain that a small number of huntsmen can be relied upon to defend the city,” Lady Nikos said. “Which, yes, is the result of this Breach in Vale; it concentrated many minds on what would have happened if such a thing had happened in Mistral. We have purchased androids from the Atlesians, and men are being raised in arms.”

“What kind of men?” asked Jaune. “I mean, not huntsmen, I guess, so—”

“Poor fellows, I think, for the most part,” Lady Nikos said. “Some will have a hankering for adventure, but I believe that more will have a hankering for steady pay and three meals.”

“Meanwhile, you have sold your warships to the Valish,” Sunset could not help but observe.

“Indeed, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos said. “I am not inherently opposed to the idea that Mistral should have an army — we have been haunted by the ghost of Ares Claudandus and his host for far too long — but either we have woken up to the need to look to our own defences, or we have not. Even if the two warships are old and obsolete, then I must believe they are better than no ships at all; to sell them before they have been replaced by newer vessels suggests that the security of Mistral is not being treated with the utmost seriousness.”

“Then why are you raising an army?” asked Jaune. “Isn’t that pretty serious, my lady?”

“Because it attunes with the agenda long held by Lady Ming and her Self-Strengthening movement,” Lady Nikos said. “Long has she desired to restore Mistralian power upon the stage of Remnant. As I say, the idea is not inherently without merit, if properly implemented.”

“And…” Sunset paused a moment, considering whether this was an appropriate topic of conversation with Pyrrha’s mother. However, Lady Nikos had no doubt been following closely the ebb and flow of Pyrrha’s reputation of late, and she had spoken about it with Pyrrha, granting her blessing to her challenge against Cinder. It would feel strange not to mention it. “And how fares Pyrrha’s reputation, my lady?”

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment or two, her back unbending, her face unyielding.

“There have always been those who have resented either Pyrrha or the House of Nikos,” she said, in a voice as hard as stones cascading down the mountainside. “Either for Pyrrha’s own skill or for the fame that she possesses, for the place that she has in the heart of the people; or else for her name, thinking that the House of Nikos is too wealthy, too important still in Mistral, too … I sometimes think that there are some who think we are too extant and that things will not be well until the line of Nikos has been rendered extinct. Of course, the very things that they resented about my daughter made them quiet; her popularity made it impossible to speak out against her. Now that they have the semblance, the illusion of good cause, they, like maggots and worms, feel free to crawl out of the shadows where they have lurked and spew their bile openly.”

Again she took pause.

“If Pyrrha thought that her victory over Miss Fall would silence all detractors once again, I fear that she was much mistaken.”

“Then … then it was all for nothing?” asked Jaune.

Lady Nikos’ eyebrows rose. “'For nothing,' Mister Arc? No, not for nothing, not in the least. Pyrrha proved that she was willing to answer her critics with her very life, and her victory has burnished up her reputation yet further. She convinced many who might have wavered in their convictions. But, as some philosopher or other has no doubt observed before now, you cannot reason someone out of a position that they were not reasoned into, and those who hated, feared, or loathed Pyrrha before this will not be reasoned out by such a thing as a battle to the death.”

She took a breath. “But they are worms indeed, maggots and worms; I do not fear them. Pyrrha should not fear them either.”

“Are you … are you sure, my lady?” asked Sunset. “I mean no disrespect, but Pyrrha has mentioned that there are, or were, moves afoot to strip her honours from the Temple of Victory.”

“That will not happen,” Lady Nikos declared. “Those who seek for it would need to prove much greater cause than they have in order to accomplish it. The last Champion to have their name erased and cast to oblivion was an attainted traitor to Mistral, who was seen by a whole army on the wrong side of a great battle. Compared to that, these allegations are nothing, mere words with no proof, just insinuations spewed out by some anonymous gossipmonger. That is not reason enough to go against the verdict of arms.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Sunset murmured. “Nevertheless, I … I must again apologise for placing Pyrrha in such a position, my lady—”

“You were deceived, Miss Shimmer, as I understand,” Lady Nikos said. “That should, itself, be a subject for regret, but regret of a different sort than you express now.”

“That … my lady is most generous.”

“My lady sees clearly,” Lady Nikos said. “It is an unfortunate state of affairs, I will admit, but envy is ever the lot of the great; the only way to avoid it is to settle for mediocrity, to live a little life, accomplishing nothing. Pyrrha is made for more than that by far. Aye, it is the lot of greatness … and the lot of Mistral too, I fear. Eighty years since the Great War ended, seventy-five years since Ares Claudandus was brought down, and our politics still feel … febrile, unsettled. ‘The Princess Without a Crown’; so much weight would not be placed upon the Nikos name if there were not still those who hearkened to the restoration of the monarchy, if there were not those who feared the same in equal measure, if there were not those who thought the Council illegitimate or looked upon the Steward as a caretaker only.

“There has been much written, not least by we Mistralians ourselves, as to why Mistral has declined over the years, but I think that one reason is that we are not comfortable in the ordering of our affairs, we have not taken to the idea of a Council as Vale or Atlas have; it seems an alien thing, imposed upon us from without. Few love it, and yet, there is no consensus on what should be put in its place.”

“Does my lady have any thoughts upon the matter?” asked Sunset.

“The Council is too small, for a start,” Lady Nikos said, “There is no voice for the great families of Mistral, no way for any number of New Men to be shepherded to power and prominence. With a Council of five and two of those seats occupied by the Steward and the Headmaster of Haven, the lords and ladies of Mistral are left to scrap over what little power is yet available to them, while men of talent and ambition rage at the limited scope for their advancement. And all of this squabbling over the bones of a realm fallen in might and in majesty.”

She paused a moment. “But enough of this; let gloomy talk of Mistral lie in Mistral where it belongs. How is Pyrrha?”

Sunset felt it was exceedingly fortunate that Lady Nikos was asking that now, and not just a little while earlier when she might have been forced to lie. “Pyrrha is in good health and in good spirits, my lady. She is in fine fettle.”

“Is that so, Mister Arc?” Lady Nikos asked. “Is Pyrrha in fine fettle?”

“Yes!” Jaune yelped. “Yes, my lady, Pyrrha is … Pyrrha’s great, Pyrrha … Pyrrha’s doing great.”

Lady Nikos looked at Jaune for a moment. “It was Pyrrha’s birthday not long ago,” she said. “How did you celebrate?”

Ah, yes, I should have expected that this would come up. “My lady,” Sunset murmured. “I must confess that we … we have been … preoccupied of late. I fear the celebrations for Pyrrha’s birthday were … not in keeping with her deserving.”

“Is that so?” Lady Nikos asked.

“It is, my lady.”

“Hmm,” Lady Nikos murmured. “No doubt, that pleased Pyrrha very much.”

Sunset could not restrain a slight laugh. “Indeed, my lady, she was not displeased.”

Nevertheless, despite the fact that Lady Nikos apparently bore no malice over the fact, she did not mention the fact that they had missed the day until Pyrrha mentioned it.

She hoped that Jaune would not bring it up either.

“Nevertheless, I would have hoped for better,” Lady Nikos declared. “Tell me, what is this preoccupation of yours?”

Many things that would, I fear, shock you into ageing yet further, my lady, Sunset thought. “A … we have a charge, my lady, laid upon us by Professor Ozpin. The headmaster’s niece, Amber, was attacked, wounded, and spent some many months in a coma as a result. Now that she has awakened, Professor Ozpin, fearful that some villain may attempt to harm her again, has tasked us with protecting and caring for her. That is why Ruby couldn’t be here to greet you alongside us; someone has to stay with Amber and ensure her safety while we are here and Pyrrha is recording. Pyrrha is very taken with her; they have already formed a close bond, but it has taken a great deal of our attention recently.”

Lady Nikos’ somewhat wrinkled brow was wrinkled yet further by a perplexed frown. “This seems somewhat strange to my ears,” she said. “I can understand an uncle’s fears for his kin, but why, and what gives him the right, to outsource that duty to his students? Let him hire a huntsman and let you concentrate upon preparations for the Vytal Festival!”

“I assure you, my lady, we are well-prepared for the tournament,” Sunset said, glad to move the subject onto ground where there was not the need to tell so many lies or half-truths to Lady Nikos. “If we are selected, I give you my word that you will not find us wanting.”

Lady Nikos might have questioned that more, but at the moment, they arrived at their destination, the cab pulling up in front of a tall, luxurious-looking hotel with a white marble or marble-seeming front, with great columns in the Mistralian style on either side of the door and stone gargoyles perched upon the higher levels of the building, looking down with ugly, leering faces.

Sunset couldn’t see the appeal of such things, let alone why they had become a symbol of opulence, but nevertheless, a symbol of such they were.

Also a symbol of opulence was the doorman in a red jacket and top hat, with white gloves on his hands and polished brass buttons on his coat, who smiled as he opened the door of the taxi.

His smile faltered when he saw that it was Sunset Shimmer sitting there.

“Relax,” Sunset told him. “I’m just here escorting my Lady Nikos.” She climbed out of the cab, and gestured to where Lady Nikos sat. “She is your guest.”

The doorman did a poor job of hiding his relief as he tipped his hat. “Welcome to the Hotel Majestic, ma’am.”

“I have some luggage in the trunk,” Lady Nikos informed him.

“Of course, ma’am,” the doorman said, getting Lady Nikos’ bags out of the boot of the taxi while Lady Nikos paid the cab driver, then she and Jaune and Hestia got out of the cab, which drove away while the doorman carried Lady Nikos’ luggage inside.

Lady Nikos checked in and was shown to a palatial suite on the tenth floor. A four poster bed with soft silk hangings of royal blue sat facing the large window that looked across one of the nicer, more historic parts of Vale. There was a plush green footstool sitting at the foot of the bed and a complementary dressing gown with the ornate HM livery of the hotel picked out in gold upon it. The carpet was exceedingly soft under Sunset’s feet, and there was a bowl of fruit — real or imitation, Sunset couldn’t say — placed on a small table in the centre of the main chamber. The dressing table had a gilt vanity mirror and a faux-marble tabletop, while there was a luxuriant green armchair, a chaise-longue for reclining, and a working chair tucked beneath a writing desk all present, and that was before they got to the presence of an adjoining room for Hestia.

“This will serve,” Lady Nikos declared, looking around the room. “Hestia, excuse us for a little while; I will call when I require you.”

Hestia curtsied. “Of course, my lady,” she said, and retreated into her separate adjoining room, shutting the door behind her.

Sunset and Jaune were left alone with Lady Nikos, who regarded them with keen eyes.

Her gaze settled upon Jaune.

"Miss Shimmer," she said, not looking at Sunset, not taking her eyes off of Jaune, "will you wait without? I would speak with you and will summon you, but for now, I would have private conference with Mister Arc."

Sunset bowed. "As my lady wishes."

---

Sunset left. Jaune really wished that she wouldn't.

He could feel the sweat beneath his armpits as Sunset retreated out of the luxurious hotel room, closing the door behind her with what seemed to him to be a very final thud. He could only hope that the black of his hoodie would hide the sweat stains from Lady Nikos' eyes.

Although if it started to drip down his arms, then she would certainly notice that. That was one of the reasons why he was holding his arms tightly against his sides.

Lady Nikos looked at him. She stared at him, her green eyes — so much colder than Pyrrha's, or so it seemed to him — drilling into him.

It was all very well for Sunset to tell him that he held the power in this relationship, on account of the fact that Pyrrha had chosen him over her mother, but that didn't change the fact that this woman frightened him. He wanted to cringe before her.

Come on, get it together; I've faced so much worse than this.

I faced down Reuben; I can face Pyrrha's mom as well.

But of course, there was a crucial difference there: Reuben thought that Jaune was worthless, and he had been wrong about that; Lady Nikos thought that he wasn't good enough for Pyrrha, and on that … well, she kinda had a point, didn't she?

"Please don't talk like that, Jaune; I hate it when you talk like that."

The voice was in his head, but it sounded like Pyrrha, to the extent that Jaune almost fancied that he could feel her breath on his cheek as she whispered into his ear.

She — he, whatever — was right; Pyrrha wouldn't want him to be scared here; she wouldn't want him to be afraid of her mother.

Jaune tried to straighten his back and push his shoulders back a little.

But he still kept his arms by his side, because he was still sweating.

Lady Nikos leaned upon her walking stick. He didn't remember her needing one before, although she'd walked with a limp. Had she gotten worse? Was she ill?

"Would…" Jaune swallowed. "Would you like to sit down, my lady?"

"If I wished to sit, I would sit, and need no permission from you before I did so, Mister Arc," Lady Nikos snapped.

Jaune winced. "Right. Of course. Um, my lady."

Lady Nikos closed her eyes, breathing deeply in, her grip upon the handle of her stick — it was silver, and shaped like the head of a phoenix — tightening until her knuckles whitened.

"Mister Arc," she said, her voice growing quieter, if not necessarily softer. "It appears … it is a truth that I owe you … an apology. Regardless of my opinion of you, it was a low deed on my part to lie to you as regards Pyrrha's … status, her … availability. I had the right to disapprove of you and to make plain my disapproval, but in deceit, I overstepped the bounds of honour and propriety. And for that, you have my regret."

Her words were stiff, and sounded as though they were being wrenched out of her gullet, but because of that, they didn't sound insincere; maybe they were — she'd already lied to him once, after all — but when she'd lied to him, the lie had come much easier than this sounded. And whether it was a lie or not, the fact remained that she was apologising to him. That was something, right?

"Apology accepted, my lady," he said quietly.

Lady Nikos' eyes narrowed. "That is it?"

Jaune blinked. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I did not expect it to be so easily done," Lady Nikos replied. "Is there no price you would exact for my misconduct?"

"I don't think there's anything you could give me greater than…" Jaune trailed off; it wasn't right to talk about Pyrrha as a thing he owned. "Even if I wanted you to pay, my lady, you've paid already with the months that Pyrrha wouldn't speak to you. It's done; it's over. I don't want to be your enemy, my lady; all I want … is to make Pyrrha happy. And while that might not be exactly what you wanted, you were trying to do what was best for her, as you saw it."

Lady Nikos looked at him. "That is very maturely spoken, Mister Arc," she murmured.

"Thank you, my lady?"

Lady Nikos turned away from him, moving stiffly towards the large window, as tall as Jaune or maybe even taller, that looked out over the city. "Do you know the origins of our family, Mister Arc?"

"I know that Pyrrha is descended from the Emperors of Mistral," Jaune said.

"Indeed," Lady Nikos said. "But beyond that? Do you know how our line began, or is said to have begun?"

"Um … with the first Emperor, my lady?" Jaune ventured.

"True, if rather obvious," Lady Nikos allowed. "But do you know who he was?"

Jaune hesitated. "No, my lady."

"No, I didn't imagine Pyrrha would have spoken of it," Lady Nikos said. "It would sit ill with someone who … wished to appear 'normal' to claim descent from gods."

Jaune swallowed. "From gods?"

Lady Nikos let out a soft laugh. "Yes, I did not think that Pyrrha would have spoken of it, although if you had attended Haven Academy, it would have been taught as part of the mythic history of our city. If one believes the myths and legends, then Theseus, he who raised the first buildings on the mountaintop and slew the arachne that dwelt in the catacombs beneath, he who united all the peoples who dwelt round about into a single polity and from whose line the Emperors of Mistral would spring, was the son of the sea god Tithys by a mortal woman. In the course of his labours, he fell in love with Alcestis, a companion hero in his quest and the daughter of the sky gods Seraphis and Re, and on their return to nascent Mistral, they were wed. If one believes in myths and legends; few enough do these days."

Jaune's mouth felt very dry, but he found his voice sufficient to say, "I think … I think that I'd prefer not to believe it, for the sake of feeling a little less inferior."

Lady Nikos snorted. "Yes, Mister Arc, I suppose that is one lesson to be taken from the story: inferiority. Who, after all, could compare against a god? Who could be worthy of the descendant of a god, or even an emperor?" She paused. "I confess that … that was my thought, looking at you, a Valishman of no birth, of no … nothing, wondering what in Remnant you possessed that would make Pyrrha look at you with such … eyes. You are a handsome youth, I will concede, sweet-faced and lithe of limb without descending overmuch into skinniness."

"Uh…" Jaune murmured, wondering if he ought to thank Lady Nikos for the compliment.

"And yet, there are many handsome youths in Mistral, or so I told myself," Lady Nikos went on. "Mistralian, and better born." She paused. "I own myself a hypocrite, Mister Arc."

"My … lady?"

Lady Nikos turned around, her back to the window, facing Jaune once more. "Has Pyrrha … has she talked of her father?"

Jaune shook his head. "No, my lady."

"I was not the beauty that my daughter is, even in the blush of youth," Lady Nikos admitted, "and yet, such was my wealth and the grandeur of my old name that I had many suitors. Suitors of families almost as old as mine, wealthy burghers well-connected in the Guildhall. And yet … I took the view that I was rich enough, or would be rich enough when I inherited from my father, and well born enough for myself and for any husband I might choose; I preferred a brave man to a wealthy one."

"You … married a commoner, my lady?" Jaune asked.

"Goodness no, Mister Arc; we must have some standards," Lady Nikos said dryly. "Achilles was a hippeis, do you know what that word means?"

Silently, Jaune shook his head.

"It means that, in days of old, he would have been considered wealthy enough to equip himself for war as a horseman," Lady Nikos explained. "I believe the Valish equivalent would be 'knight,' shorn perhaps of some cultural connotations." She paused. "I believe your father is a landowner, Mister Arc?"

"That … that's right, my lady," Jaune murmured. "It's not much, but—"

"And who stands to inherit?"

"My oldest sister, Rouge," Jaune said.

He thought about mentioning that Rouge didn't have any children of her own, but first of all, he wasn't entirely sure who it would go to after that — Saphron was the next oldest, but she lived far away, so it might go to River and then her children — and second of all, that was none of Lady Nikos' business anyway.

Lady Nikos gave a faint nod of her head. "So," she said, "are you a brave man, Mister Arc?"

"I … try to be, my lady."

"Mmm," Lady Nikos murmured wordlessly. Again, she paused a moment or two. "And do you understand what is…?" She trailed off, seeming to fail in choosing her words.

Jaune frowned slightly. "My lady?"

"One reads a great deal these days about Modern Young People," Lady Nikos said, with audible capital letters. "In Vale, in Atlas — although in this particular instance, it does not appear to be the root of modernity — and even in Mistral, of the … relaxing of social mores, of the lessening of standards, or perhaps it would be fairer to speak of the rise of new standards, different than those that came before. Of the … casualisation of relations between boys and girls, or boys and boys and girls and girls and what have you, so that that which the satirists of yesteryear railed against now seems staid and stuffy by comparison—"

"My lady," Jaune said, cutting her off, "I think I can guess where this is going, so let me stop you there and spare you the embarrassment of going on."

Lady Nikos raised her eyebrows. "That is very kind of you, Mister Arc," she said in a tone as dry as dust.

"I don't know whether you were going to warn me, or threaten me, or demand answers or something else," Jaune admitted. "But I can give you an answer all the same: this isn't something casual for me. I'm not planning to dump Pyrrha after a year, or two, or after graduation; I'm not about to use her and then throw her away; trust me, my lady, there's nothing you can say that I haven't heard already from Sunset, and I'll tell you exactly what I told her: that Pyrrha has given me her heart, and I mean to take good care of it, as she does mine.

"I love your daughter, and she loves me, and I don't see what else matters at the end of the day, my birth or hers or how much land my father owns, so what? It might matter to you, but it doesn't seem to matter to Pyrrha, and so … and so, it doesn't matter to me, either."

Lady Nikos' eyes narrowed. "You say that you try to be a brave man," she said. "I sincerely hope that it took some courage for you to say that, Mister Arc."

"Just a bit, my lady."

"Hmph," Lady Nikos muttered. "Eros, it seems, has struck Pyrrha with his irresistible arrows, and you as well, it would appear. That being so … who am I to stand against the decrees of fate?" Her mouth twisted into a sour expression, as though she would have rather liked to stand against such. "I would highly recommend that you remember Pyrrha's birthday next year, Mister Arc, and a belated gift for this year would hardly go amiss."

"Yes, my lady."

"You are dismissed," Lady Nikos declared. "Bid Miss Shimmer come in."

---

Sunset was standing outside the door as if on guard; it would have felt inexcusable, in the present circumstances, with Lady Nikos just beyond, to have slouched or leaned against the wall or do anything else but maintain a rigid, upright posture, perfectly poised as befit a gentlemare.

It felt a little bit as though she were waiting to be called into the princess' study for a dressing down.

Save that I have done … not nothing wrong, but nothing worthy of a serious scolding.

I've only forgotten Pyrrha's birthday and left us unprepared for the Vytal Festival.

I had good reasons for both of those.

Not that Lady Nikos knows that or can know that.

Our natural talent will see us through the latter, and as for the former … I am contrite; I have no good excuse, save that Pyrrha herself seemed little concerned by it.

If I were Lady Nikos, then I would be more concerned with the duel, but Lady Nikos approved of that.

I have little cause for apprehension. It is only the circumstance that makes me apprehensive.

The door opened, and Jaune stepped out, leaving the door open behind him. He sagged with relief.

"How did it go?" Sunset asked, ever so softly.

Jaune let out a ragged breath. "Better than I thought it would."

Sunset snorted, the corners of her lips turning up. "I can see that."

Jaune ignored that, saying only, "You're up."

Sunset nodded. "Are you going to wait for me or are you going to head back?"

"I'll wait," Jaune assured her.

"Thank you," Sunset said, clasping her hands together behind her back as she walked inside. With a deft touch of telekinesis, she shut the door — a quite heavy door; she had heard nothing of what passed between Jaune and Lady Nikos; evidently, this hotel took the privacy of its guests very seriously; how much could even Hestia overhear? — behind her.

"My lady," she murmured, bowing once again.

"Miss Shimmer," Lady Nikos murmured, before she shuffled across the room and sank into the expansive armchair, which absorbed her slender, bony frame as though it were a monster set to devour her. A sigh of relief escaped Lady Nikos' wrinkled lips.

Sunset frowned. "If my lady will permit me, that does not seem to be a mere case of stiff limbs."

"I told you once, Miss Shimmer, that I was old before my time," Lady Nikos declared. "I seem more Pyrrha's grandmother than her mother, and I am only getting older. Yet, what of that? I have given strength to Mistral, and glory renewed such as has scarce been seen these many years. If aching joints and infirm legs are the price that I must pay, then I will pay it with a high heart." She gestured around the room to the other chairs. "You may sit, Miss Shimmer, if you wish."

"Thank you, my lady," Sunset said and perched herself down upon the edge of the chaise-longue, her back straight, her shoulders back, her ears pricked up.

One advantage of sitting down was that it was harder for her tail to twitch, and harder still for Lady Nikos to see it.

"Does it upset you?" asked Lady Nikos. "The sudden upsurge in hostility to the faunus, I mean."

"I … am not a firebrand for faunus rights, my lady," Sunset said. "It offends me, but it does not fill me with a rage against injustice."

"I see," Lady Nikos murmured. "Mister Arc tells me that you warned him to take care of Pyrrha's heart."

"Did he, my lady?" asked Sunset softly.

"Yes, he did, Miss Shimmer."

"Then I hope you will forgive the presumption, my lady."

"I have no objection to it," Lady Nikos said. "Though it somewhat surprises me."

Sunset laughed just a little, and self-effacingly, she hoped. "I … I am conscious, my lady, that the unique glory of our sex — though indeed, it is no great glory to be coveted, nor is it always to our advantage — is that of loving longest, even when hope, or even existence, of… love, or of being loved in return, is gone. Men do not always appreciate that, nor should they always, but nevertheless, I sought to remind Jaune of it because … because Pyrrha is dear to me, my lady." If I may venture to say it, she has my heart, even as she has Jaune's. But no, she would not venture to say it, not to Pyrrha's mother. If taken sincerely, it would seem too saccharine; if taken insincerely, it would seem overly familiar, a ham-handed attempt to curry favour through protestations of devotion. Rather, she said, "Dearer, even, than my fondness for other young girls in love for whom I will confess a somewhat weakness."

“I see,” Lady Nikos said softly. “Miss Shimmer, what is going on here in Vale?”

Sunset hesitated. “Would my lady like to be more specific?”

“My lady would indeed like to be more specific,” Lady Nikos said, “but so much madness seems to have engulfed this kingdom that my lady scarce knows where to begin. Dust robberies involving the White Fang in alliance with local criminality; some sort of grimm cultist with an animus against my daughter dancing in the shadows; a plot to open a way for a horde of grimm to storm into Vale, red in tooth and claw; rumours of treachery; the Mistralian embassy blown up; battle after battle; and now, feelings against the faunus and the Atlesians running high. I say again, Miss Shimmer, what is going on? You tell me that Vale is safe, and I begin to wonder if you are either delusional or you think me beef-witted.”

“I certainly do not think you stupid, my lady,” Sunset assured her.

“And your delusions?”

“That remains to be seen, my lady.”

Lady Nikos arched one eyebrow. “In the present circumstances, I do not find that very amusing, Miss Shimmer.”

“Forgive me, my lady,” Sunset begged. “I … it is true, that we have endu— we have experienced a great deal in one year, as has Vale…” And that was not even a comprehensive list, my lady. “To the extent, I sometimes feel as though we need a vacation to rest after everything that happened over our vacation.” She sighed. “I can see how my words at the skydock might have sounded glib or nonsensical … what I meant was that, with the power of the Atlesian fleet, with the greater preparedness of the Valish forces, with the ships bought from Mistral, with so many students here … there is no risk of Vale being overrun, or at least, I do not think there is.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Lady Nikos said. “That does not answer my question, however; what is going on? I have heard from Polemarch Yeoh, who told me that Pyrrha warned that similar dangers may soon descend on Mistral, and over all kingdoms.”

“I … see,” Sunset murmured. Pyrrha hadn’t told her that she’d said that, although it made sense that she would; there came a point, arguably, at which keeping secrets put others in danger. “How wide has this warning gone?”

“Polemarch Yeoh only informed me because she wondered if I knew of it,” Lady Nikos confessed. “Beyond that, I think she has relayed it to the Lady Terri-Belle and to the Lord Steward.”

“Not to Professor Lionheart, my lady?” Sunset asked. Of course, Professor Lionheart knew more already than Polemarch Yeoh could reveal, but it was odd that he had not been informed.

“Professor Lionheart is a servant; if the Lord Steward wishes to inform him, then he will,” Lady Nikos said. “So it is true then, what Pyrrha said?”

“I do not think that all events over the past year are connected, my lady,” Sunset said. “The destruction of the Mistralian embassy was the result of one fool’s ambition and unconnected with everything else, but … yes, it is true. There are…” She paused.

Of course, continuing was made somewhat more difficult by the fact that she, Sunset, didn’t know exactly what Pyrrha had said, to what she had attributed this grave menace threatening all the kingdoms.

It occurred to her that Lady Nikos had not mentioned that, and wondered if the omission was purposeful.

What might Pyrrha have said?

“There are those,” Sunset said, “who are desirous to destroy the kingdoms of Remnant. The White Fang being likewise for a change in the status quo, it made sense for them to ally together — here in Vale, at least; I cannot say how the wider movement feels about all of this. Pyrrha is correct in that I fear they have the mobility and the will to strike in all kingdoms … although unlike Pyrrha, I am not sure that they have the means to do so.”

“Indeed?” Lady Nikos said. “And why is that, Miss Shimmer?”

“Resources, capability, practicalities, my lady,” Sunset replied. “It took Cinder half a year of preparation to launch her assault on Vale in alliance with the White Fang, with the aid — as you say — of the local criminal element. She had to acquire dust, build up her forces … and in a single day of fighting, all of that preparation turned to dust and ashes. Now, she is reduced to fighting Pyrrha in single combat. She has no plan, no means; the scorpion has lost its sting.”

“Then why are there so many Atlesian ships left in the sky?” asked Lady Nikos.

“General Ironwood is a cautious man, my lady,” Sunset said. “My point is, though there are those who would doubtless like to threaten Mistral, they do not have the power to do so.”

“This Cinder Fall may not,” Lady Nikos allowed, “but how do you know that there are not other cultists already in or around Mistral preparing their own designs against us, while Miss Fall worked here in Vale?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. Professor Ozpin did not seem particularly concerned that Remnant might experience simultaneous assaults on all the kingdoms at once; nor, for that matter, did General Ironwood, who would scarcely have left Atlas if he expected it to come under attack while he was away. But at the same time, they could be mistaken, and even if they were not, she could hardly say to Lady Nikos that Professor Ozpin acted as though Salem would only attack one place at a time.

“You are correct, my lady; I cannot say that for certain,” Sunset admitted. “Although, if there were so many of these villains, then Cinder would hardly have needed to recruit the White Fang. I think these … cultists are few in number.”

“I can see how you have come to that conclusion, even if it may not be correct,” Lady Nikos allowed, “but how is it that you and Pyrrha have become caught up in this? Are there no seasoned swords able to guard Vale against this menace?”

“Apparently not, my lady,” Sunset murmured. It then occurred to her that that might sound unnecessarily frivolous. “I apologise, again, my lady; that was … I think it is fair to say that we became caught up in this by … not quite by accident, but by a snowball. What began with trying to help a fellow student of ours, Blake Belladonna, became battles with the White Fang, which then alerted us to Cinder’s true intentions, and so, without intending it to go so far, we were led step by step and mile by mile into the catacombs under Mountain Glenn.”

Put like that, she realised, it all sounded … not like Blake’s fault, per se, but something that Sunset could have put a stop to by giving Blake a good firm no at some point early on, when the second semester began, perhaps. What would their lives have looked like if she had?

What would Vale look like if I had?

“My lady,” she said, bowing her head, “I am sorry that Pyrrha has become caught up in this; when I agreed to join with Blake upon some small matter, I little thought that it would lead to this, and yet … I fear that by the point it became clear that it would lead to this, or something like it, Pyrrha’s heart heroic would not allow her to turn away. Pyrrha and Ruby are too bold; it has been all that Jaune and I can do to stand at their sides and share the perils with them.”

“And now?” asked Lady Nikos. “Are there more perils yet to come?”

“A huntress’ life is never free from such, my lady, but in the specific … I hope not,” Sunset said. “Pyrrha need not have encountered Cinder after the Breach had she not sought her out herself, and … as I say, the scorpion has lost its sting: the attempt on Vale has failed, the White Fang are broken here, the stolen dust has all been expended.” And the Fall Maiden is awake again, so even the hope of obtaining all the magic is beyond Cinder. Half the Fall Maiden’s power is all that she possesses now, and that is not enough to break Vale by itself. All that she could try to do is take the Relic, and she doesn’t know where it is or how to get at it. “Whatever Cinder or her allies might wish to do, they cannot do it, at least not for a while longer yet. I believe — I hope — that the storm has passed.”

“And Professor Ozpin’s niece?” Lady Nikos asked. “Was she attacked by this same group? Is that why she is in your charge?”

“She is in our charge because we are her contemporaries in age, and Professor Ozpin felt that she might be more comfortable with us than with distant, older huntsmen,” Sunset said. She ventured a smile. “We are a very convivial group.” She let the smile drop. “My lady … I do not begrudge your questions, or your concern, but the worst is past now; the battle is done. Please, allow no worries to distract you. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the tournament. It will be worth it, I guarantee.”

---

It was evening by the time that Pyrrha called upon her mother. The curtains were not drawn in the hotel room, but the lights were on inside, dimming how much could be seen of the night-lit city beyond.

“Good evening, young mistress,” Hestia said, curtsying to Pyrrha as she opened the door for her and stepped back to allow her inside.

“Good evening, Hestia,” Pyrrha said softly, as she stepped into the room. “And how are you?”

“Very well; thank you, m’lady,” Hestia said.

“That will be all, Hestia,” Mother said as she got up from where she sat at the writing desk, putting aside a book.

Hestia curtsied again. “Yes, m’lady.” She retreated into the adjoining room, closing the door behind her.

Pyrrha bowed her head. “Mother.”

“Pyrrha,” Mother said, crossing the distance between them somewhat slowly.

“Are you alright?”

“I am sick of being asked that; I am not dying,” Mother snapped. She reached Pyrrha and gave her a kiss, first on one cheek, and then the other. Her lips felt cracked and a little dry upon Pyrrha’s skin. “I am told that you could not meet me at the skydock because you were filming some sort of documentary?”

Pyrrha made a noise that was somewhere between a chuckle and a wince. “Yes, Arslan and I were doing some … interviews, I suppose you might say. Or talking head bits, as Arslan calls them.”

“Being interviewed?”

“No, interviewing,” Pyrrha explained. “Professor Ozpin and Doctor Oobleck on the history of the Vytal Festival, what it means to Professor Ozpin as Headmaster of Beacon—”

“Less perhaps, than it means to him to be defending Vale against insane worshippers of the grimm,” Mother said.

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “You—?”

“Did you think that Polemarch Yeoh would not speak to me?” Mother asked.

“I didn’t really think about it,” Pyrrha asked.

Mother turned away from her and walked over to the chaise-loungue, sitting on it rather than reclining; perhaps she feared that she would not be able to maintain her dignity while in the reclining position, although it might have been better for her leg if she had lain down.

“Miss Shimmer believes that the danger is past,” Mother declared. “I am not sure you feel the same way, or you would not have spoken to Yeoh as you did.”

“I … am not sure the danger can ever be truly called past,” Pyrrha murmured. “I understand Sunset’s point, or rather, I believe that I can guess Sunset’s point; I have even made something like it myself to the others—”

“But now you have switched positions?”

“If you would let me finish a sentence, Mother, I would much appreciate it,” Pyrrha said quietly.

Her mother’s eyebrows climbed up her wrinkled forehead. “You speak boldly.”

Pyrrha wanted to smile at that, but restrained herself. “Beacon has been good for my confidence,” she said. “So has Jaune. Thank you, Mother, for not treating him too harshly. He says that you were quite tame in your remarks, all things considered. Although did you have to tell him that we were descended from Tithys and Seraphis?”

“I told him that it was reputed in legend and myth; I did not claim it for a fact,” Mother responded. A true lady, of course, did not smirk, but Pyrrha’s mother came close to it as she added. “How did he take it?”

“Well, it didn’t change his attitude towards me that I could tell,” Pyrrha admitted, “but all the same, I wish you hadn’t told him. It’s all nonsense in any case, old superstition; there is no truth to it.”

“You sound very certain of that,” Mother said.

Because there are only two gods, and I am descended from neither of them. “I can believe that there may be forces at work in the world greater than ourselves, but I do not believe that they answer to the names of Tithys and Amphitrite, Seraphis or Re. If there was a Theseus, then he may have had a wife named Alcestis, but she was not the daughter of gods.”

“'If'?” Mother said. “Someone founded Mistral, someone brought our people together on the mountain, someone founded the line of Nikos. That someone might as well answer to the name of Theseus as any other name, no?”

“I suppose so, Mother, yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “My point is that I am glad you were not hostile towards Jaune.”

“What would be the point of hostility?” Mother asked. “It would risk me much and gain me nothing. You love him?”

Pyrrha smiled. “Yes. Yes, Mother, I love him. With all my heart.”

“And you are sure of him?” Mother asked. “This is no dalliance on his part, no fling; you are sure that he is not, as I believe the Valish say … dating you? Having some fun?”

“Those words sound strange upon your tongue, Mother,” Pyrrha said, almost sounding amused.

Mother harrumphed. “They are strange to say; I hope never to have to say them again.”

“In answer to your question,” Pyrrha said, “I am sure of Jaune, yes; he is … he is mine, as I am his.”

“You see him as your future?” Mother asked. “Marriage, children?”

“If our futures permit,” Pyrrha said softly, as soft as the smile on her face. “If it is left up to our choosing, then yes, yes to both. He is a good man, Mother, brave and kind. There is more worth in that than in the long line of Rutulian ancestors.”

Mother did not answer for a few passing moments, looking up at Pyrrha without speaking.

“I would not lose you,” she said. “I confess, when you left my house, I did not expect you to prove so stubborn in this matter. I did not expect … I did not expect him to mean so much to you, that you would choose him over your own family. That is why I was not hostile to him today. You having made your choice, and proving your choice made with your behaviour … what can I do but accept it with what tattered shreds of grace remain to me?”

“Nevertheless,” Pyrrha said, bowing her head, “you have my thanks, for your acceptance and for your apology to Jaune.”

Her Mother breathed in deeply and exhaled just as deeply. “I suppose it would be nice to meet my grandchildren,” she admitted. “Someone must tell them the stories of our house, of its legends, its history, its many glories; I am not sure that you would do it justice.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “You are not so old as you look, Mother. If you do not hear the pitter patter of little feet about the house, it will be…” It will be not because you have been taken to the underworld, but because I have, or Jaune. It will be because fortune decreed our happiness should be short-lived.

“Mmm,” Mother murmured, seeming to guess her thoughts. “And so we return, once again, to the matter of danger.”

“In our lives, it is ever present,” Pyrrha said, “and I would hate to become complacent. Sunset’s point is well taken in that I do not expect another attack on Vale to come soon, but I would not predict that the future will be quiet.”

Perhaps if I had killed Cinder, it would be different, but as I did not … who can say what she will do next?

“There is a tempest coming, Pyrrha.”

When and where? In Vale? In Mistral? Soon or late?

Surely, Cinder cannot be ready to move again so quickly.

Perhaps she merely meant to discomfort and to worry me, although if that is the case, why was she so cordial up until then?

But if she meant to warn me, then why was she so cryptic about it?

“Miss Shimmer claims that you became involved in this business by accident.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha agreed. “Yes, I suppose that is true. Certainly, we had no idea when we started where the road would take us.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No,” Pyrrha said at once. “You said that, for Professor Ozpin, hosting the Vytal Festival must seem much less than defending Vale against this menace; you even came close to suggesting that the Vytal Festival was a rather trivial thing.” It was not something she had expected to hear from her mother, to say the least. “He did not make it seem so.” Although she thought that perhaps Professor Ozpin did think so, he had done a fair job of pretending otherwise. “He spoke of what the Vytal Festival means, why it was established, the ideals of peace and friendship that lie behind and underpin it … but, for myself, you have hit it.

“I have spent the last third of my life being acclaimed to the skies having done nothing. Acclaim in the arena, spoils dedicated in the temple, what of it? What of any of it? Once, generals rode in chariots through the streets to dedicate the spoils of real battles, real victories, accomplishments of meaning and import; I merely play-acted at empty copies of those rituals, shadowplay for the people; I was an entertainer, nothing more, and for that, I was called Invincible, declared the Evenstar of our kingdom, its pride and glory reborn.

“But now … now I am doing something real and important. I am saving lives; I am fighting battles that mean something, even as the great heroes and warriors of old Mistral did; I am becoming at last all the things that I pretended to be … even as I cease to be acclaimed for all those things. There is, perhaps, an irony there, but it does not dismay me. This is what I always wanted, one of the things I always wanted, at least; I am doing something for the people of Remnant, and I think…” Pyrrha closed her eyes a moment. “I think I am at last doing something of which my noble ancestors would not feel ashamed.”

Comments

[Mastermind4892]

I saw the Johnathan Swift quote you did there. Nice touch!

[Borndwarf21]

“There is a tempest coming, Pyrrha.”

Hmmmm