• 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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Proud Parents (New)

Proud Parents

It was no These Are My Jewels, but the statue of the huntsman and the huntress in Beacon courtyard was a reasonable backdrop to the photoshoot, at least as far as Rainbow was concerned.

The thirty-two teams, one hundred and twenty eight students in all, were formed up by their teams and by their schools, one rank kneeling at the front and the other standing behind. Nobody was actually standing on any part of the statue, which would have reduced frontage but maybe would have been disrespectful.

Even so, with a hundred and twenty eight students, the photographers had had to get quite far off in order to get them all in the shot. It was going to look like a class graduation photo, and about as detailed.

Although Rainbow thought they would be coming in for closer shots of only some of the students later on.

Nevertheless, despite the lack of detail in the group shot, Rainbow felt it was a pity that the press weren’t going to give out free copies to the students actually in the picture. It wasn’t a graduation photo, but … it still would have been nice to have, you know?

She smiled for the camera, but not too much; everyone was supposed to look happy — it was the Vytal Festival, after all — but she didn’t want to look manic or deranged.

“Rainbow Dash,” Penny whispered from where she stood between Ciel and Twilight. “I need to talk to you, to you and Ciel.”

“Not right now, Penny,” Rainbow replied out of one corner of her mouth. “Later.”

“Okay,” Penny whispered.

Rainbow glanced briefly past the photographers, to where she could see the General standing not far away, watching them, along with Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch.

General Ironwood didn’t react to Rainbow at all, so she could only think that he hadn’t noticed her looking at him.

The photographers advanced towards them, flashes going off in rapid succession, like muzzle flash from rifles, flash, flash, flash as they bore down upon the students, narrowing their fields of view, taking pictures of just the Beacon students, or the Atlas students, or just this team or that team; maybe they were focusing on individual students, Rainbow couldn’t tell.

Whatever was necessary to adorn the websites of the virtual newspapers, in support of whatever articles their editors might want written up as soon as possible.

“And we’re done!” a man in a suit who had not been taking pictures but who had been supervising the photographers declared. “Anyone who isn’t needed for interviews, you’re free to go.”

“Blake Belladonna!” a woman called, from the crowd of reporters who had been standing just behind their photographic colleagues, the words passing her lips as soon as the possibility of dismissal was raised, just in case Blake got any ideas that her time was her own again. “Rainbow Dash and Blake Belladonna, I’d like to speak to you, please.”

Why do I get the feeling that this isn’t going to be about the Vytal Festival? Rainbow thought as she glanced at Blake, only to find that Blake was already looking at her.

Rainbow shrugged. What were they going to do, after all? It wasn’t like they could say ‘no’ or pretend that they hadn’t heard her. Regardless of what this woman actually wanted to ask, they were all supposed to be available for interviews right now; it was a price of being part of the Vytal tournament.

The price of glory.

And so, as the student body broke up, some of them answering requests from other reporters — Rainbow heard Pyrrha’s name called, and Weiss’ — Rainbow moved through the currents of students, joined quickly by Blake as they walked towards the reporter who had hailed them, who beckoned them to step to one side slightly.

She was a woman with dusky skin, so probably an Atlesian, with dark hair worn short above the shoulders, wearing a blue dress with a big red stripe running right down the middle of it and gold lines running up and down so that it looked kind of like a ladder. A drone hovered just over her shoulder, its one eye fixed on Rainbow and Blake as they walked across the courtyard towards her.

“Hello, students,” she said. “Jillian Khalisa, Northern News…” She glanced past the two of them. “General Ironwood, I’m afraid I don’t need a comment from you at this time.”

“Thank the gods for that,” General Ironwood muttered, “but I’m afraid I don’t need your permission to keep an eye on two of my students. They might not be used to your methods yet.”

Ms. Khalisa inhaled through her nostrils. “My ‘methods,’ General Ironwood, are to report the truth without fear or favour.” Her brown eyes narrowed. “Two of your students? I understood that Blake Belladonna was a Beacon student?”

“I’m transferring to Atlas,” Blake said.

“The paperwork has already been submitted to and approved by myself and Professor Ozpin,” General Ironwood added.

“That was done with little ceremony,” Ms. Khalisa noted.

“I wasn’t aware that a student transferring from one school to another was considered newsworthy,” General Ironwood replied. “I’ll make a note to send you a press release every time it happens.”

Ms. Khalisa gave a very tight smile and made a wordless noise that sounded like it was maybe intended to be mocking laughter — or irritation, perhaps; it was hard to tell. Either way, she looked at her hovering drone. “Did you get any of that?”

The drone burbled.

“What do you mean you weren’t rec— never mind. Start recording!”

A light switched on from just beside the camera lens jutting out from the drone’s spherical body.

Ms. Khalisa cleared her throat. “Rainbow Dash, let’s start with you. How does it feel to be called the White Fang’s best recruiting sergeant?”

“What?” Blake snapped, her hands clenching into fists. “That’s—”

“Belladonna, calm down,” General Ironwood said. “She’s trying to get a rise out of you. Dash, don’t answer that.”

Rainbow looked at him, where he stood on the sidelines, watching without being in-shot. “Sir, if it’s alright by you, I’d like to try.”

General Ironwood looked into Rainbow’s eyes, silent for a moment, before he nodded. “Go ahead, Dash.”

Rainbow clasped her hands together behind her back. “I … think,” she said, “that you should be asking whoever is calling me that what they mean by it. Because if they mean that we should have done nothing, that we should have let the SDC keep on abusing people in those camps, just to keep it all hushed up so the White Fang wouldn’t have anything to complain about? That says more about the people talking about me than it does about me, or Blake. But, if you ask me what I think, I think it’s a load of crap. I think the fact that we have proven that it’s possible to trust the system, to trust the authorities to do the right thing, I don’t think that helps the White Fang at all.”

“Hmm,” Ms Khalisa said. “So you would reject the accusation that your actions place the needs of the faunus above the needs of Atlas?”

“Yes!” Rainbow snapped.

“This interview is supposed to be about the forthcoming tournament,” General Ironwood declared. “Either ask some relevant questions, or we’re done.”

Ms. Khalisa was silent for a moment or two. She glanced down at the scroll in her hand. “Rainbow Dash, do you feel proud to represent Atlas in the tournament?”

“Absolutely,” Rainbow said. “It’s a great honour. There are a lot of people I hope I can make proud: General Ironwood, Cou—”

“Don’t list them all, kid; this is an interview, not an awards ceremony,” Ms. Khalisa muttered. “And Blake Belladonna, conversely, does it disappoint you that you aren’t getting to represent Atlas in the tournament? Do you feel as if you have the right to compete under false colours?”

“They aren’t false colours yet,” Blake growled. “I’m still a Beacon student. I take your point, but that’s why I won’t be continuing on past the four by four round.”

“But even then, you’ll still be competing.”

“And if I didn’t compete, then my team wouldn’t be eligible for the tournament,” Blake said. “I don’t see why I should deny my teammates their moment of glory just to indulge a point of principle. That would be pointlessly selfish of me.”

“I see,” Ms Khalisa murmured. She smirked. “And how have you both found Vale as a host for the fortieth biannual tournament?”

Rainbow caught the frown on General Ironwood’s face, and thought that she could work out why: she was trying to get them on the anti-Atlas stuff that had been going on lately.

Based on the look on General Ironwood’s face, he would rather that they didn’t get into that, and so Rainbow said, “There’s no place like home, but Vale is nice enough. Everyone here at Beacon has been very welcoming and friendly. I’ve made some great friends here in the spirit of the Vytal Festival.”

“And you, Miss Belladonna?” asked Ms. Khalisa, sounding a bit disappointed in Rainbow’s bland answer.

“Um … the same,” Blake said uncertainly. “After I was … exposed as an Atlesian agent … I’ve had reason to be grateful for the support and the welcome I’ve received from the other students here at Beacon.”

“But we’re not talking about Beacon,” Ms. Khalisa insisted. “We’re talking about Vale, the city, the kingdom; how have you found Vale as Atlas students?”

“The cafes are okay,” Rainbow said. She grinned. “But you can’t get a decent apple pie like my friend’s granny makes.”

“You haven’t experienced any hostility from the general population?” Ms Khalisa asked.

A wordless rumble issued from General Ironwood’s throat.

“It’s a valid question, General, considering that Vale is hosting the tournament.”

“I’ll decide what a valid question is to ask my students,” General Ironwood said.

“Then perhaps I should be asking you, General, whether you think it is an appropriate use of Atlas’ resources to be defending a kingdom which can’t or won’t defend itself? If the Valish are so arrogant as to think that they can get by without proper kingdom defence, then why should Atlas pick up the slack? You want to protect your students from me, but you want them to die for Vale?”

“There’s a difference between fighting and dying,” Rainbow said. “We do the first, not the second.”

“But we’re prepared to give our lives, if need be,” Blake declared. “For the sake of humanity. You might call it dying for Vale, but Atlas can’t survive on its own, any more than Vale could, or Mistral, or Vacuo. We’re all interconnected, and we all have to stand together.”

Ms. Khalisa glanced at her, then returned her attention to General Ironwood. “Did you teach her to say that?” she asked.

“Belladonna isn’t a parrot to recite phrases; she’s a student who has imbibed the values of the huntsman academies and this festival,” General Ironwood. “And you’re done.”

“I’m not finished.”

“Yes,” General Ironwood said heavily. “You are.”

Ms. Khalisa was silent for a moment. She stared at General Ironwood as though she was trying to intimidate him. Then, snorting in irritation, she snapped her fingers, and the light on her drone went out.

“Off the record, General Ironwood, you do appreciate the irony, don’t you?” she asked. “Protecting your students from the monstrous reporter, but not the monsters with teeth and claws.”

“Teeth and claws, they can handle with aplomb,” General Ironwood said. “The press can be a trickier adversary.”

“Only if you’re afraid of the truth.”

“'The truth'?” General Ironwood asked. “Or your agenda?”

“The people are waking up, General Ironwood,” Ms. Khalisa said. “They’re asking themselves why we spend so much lien on outfitting ships and soldiers to fly around the world defending other kingdoms while our own people live in poverty in Mantle. They’re waking up, and the lofty-sounding pieties that you’ve got your students mouthing so well won’t convince them for much longer.” She looked at Rainbow Dash. “And if they have to choose between their wellbeing and that of the faunus—”

“I think Mantle made that choice already,” Blake said. “It chose to understand that humans and faunus are stronger together than they are apart.”

Ms. Khalisa didn’t reply. She simply turned away, her dress swirling around her a little bit.

General Ironwood watched her go until they could be sure that she was heading towards the docking bays, then he turned his attention back to Rainbow and Blake.

“It’s unfortunate that happened,” he said. “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t let her get within fifty yards, but the press have to be allowed in to report on the Vytal Festival.” He smiled a little. “On the plus side, I thought you both handled that pretty well, especially you, Dash. Belladonna, I was a little worried what you were going to do after that first question.”

“She had no right to say that,” Blake growled.

“No,” General Ironwood agreed. “But that’s Jillian Khalisa’s stock in trade; she seeks to rile up her interviewees through provocative statements, get them to lose their cool. I’m glad you didn’t lose yours.”

“But who is she?” asked Blake.

“She works for Northern News,” General Ironwood said. “They’re—”

“Racist?” Blake suggested.

“Isolationist,” General Ironwood said. “They believe in Atlas first, and let the other kingdoms stand — or fall — on their own two feet. As for the faunus … the general tenet of their reporting, certainly of Khalisa’s reporting, is that the faunus will not, cannot ever be regarded as fully Atlesian.”

“So … racist,” Blake said.

Rainbow snorted.

The corners of General Ironwood’s mouth rose in a slight smile. “Yes, Belladonna, you could say that.”

“Does she have viewers?” asked Blake. “Do people listen to her?”

“That’s assuming that she’s telling people what to think and not reflecting what they already think back at them,” Rainbow said, “but don’t worry about it; Northern News is a joke: they get low ratings, the production values are terrible, and like you said, Mantle made its choice, and it chose to stand up for the faunus because they’re a part of Mantle as much as the humans are. All of that ‘we’re the voice of the real Atlas’ stuff is just garbage; you’ve seen the real Atlas. You’ve actually seen more of Atlas than I kind of hoped you would.”

Blake looked at her, eyebrows rising. “Really?”

“You think I wanted to show you Mantle?”

Blake chuckled. “No, I suppose you probably didn’t,” she admitted. “But I’m glad you did.”

“I’d be prepared for your words to be taken out of context,” General Ironwood warned, “but Dash is right: I wouldn’t lose sleep over it; it’s unlikely that many people will hear your words or see your face.” He paused. “Which is almost a pity, because you answered that first question well.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rainbow said. “I don’t suppose there are any real journalists around who want to interview us?”

General Ironwood laughed. “I’m sure that you’ll be able to find someone who wouldn’t object to hearing from the Warrior Princess of Menagerie or the Ace of Canterlot, if you really want to tell a camera how proud you are to be representing Atlas in the tournament.”

“I am proud, sir,” Rainbow said. “I’m proud, and … I meant what I said there, although she didn’t let me finish, that there are a lot of people that I want to make proud, a lot of people who’ve helped me get this far: Twilight, Twilight’s parents, my parents … you.”

General Ironwood’s back straightened a little bit, which was impressive because he hadn’t exactly been slouching before now. Nevertheless, it was like he managed to push his shoulders back a little bit more, to straighten up even further.

He also raised his chin a bit more, but that wasn’t so impressive.

“You … you don’t need to compete in a tournament to make me proud, Dash,” he said. He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. His touch was light, but his hand felt heavy all the same. “You’ve done that already.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rainbow said quietly. “But I’d like to do it again, if I can.” She paused. “Um, sir … I’ve been thinking about something, and I’d like to hear what you have to say about it … I know how this might sound, but I think that I should go forward to the one-on-one round instead of Penny, since she’s going to be transferring to Beacon for next year.”

“On the grounds that someone who doesn’t want to stay at Atlas doesn’t deserve to represent Atlas at the tournament,” General Ironwood murmured.

“Yes, sir.”

“The purpose of Team Rosepetal was to get Penny into the final rounds of the tournament, as a test of her abilities,” General Ironwood pointed out.

“And the purpose of Penny was to do as she was told, sir; we’re a long way from our intentions,” Rainbow pointed out.

“Undeniable,” General Ironwood muttered. “Have you spoken to Penny about this?”

“I’ve … started talking to her about it, sir.”

“And Penny has talked about it to her friends, sir,” Blake added. “I think she understands the point that Rainbow is trying to make.”

“Then if she’s agreeable, do it,” General Ironwood said. “It would be perverse to say that she’s free to transfer schools but that she’s not free in regards to how far she goes in this tournament.”

“Right, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“And for the record,” General Ironwood added, “I’m certain you will make me proud.”

Rainbow came to attention, one foot slamming down upon the stonework. “Yes, sir.”

General Ironwood removed his hand. “I should go check on the other students,” he said. “Good luck to you as well, Belladonna.”

“Thank you, sir,” Blake said, and she came to attention as well as the General walked between them, walking back towards the statue, to where some of the Atlas students still lingered.

“You know,” Rainbow said, “one way that this really does matter, although even then, I accept it doesn’t matter all that much, but … this is the one time when everyone who supports us gets to see that we really are pretty good at this. And yeah, it’s not the important work, but they can’t see that; they just have to imagine it. This is the one time we can show that ‘hey, this is what you got for all your help.’”

“I’m not sure the people who helped me would appreciate that,” Blake murmured.

“Do they watch the Vytal Festival in the White Fang camp?” Rainbow asked.

Blake raised her eyebrows at her.

“Don’t look at me like that; it’s not a stupid question,” Rainbow insisted. “What do the White Fang do for fun?”

“They’re a resistance group, not an alien species,” Blake pointed out.

“Yeah, but they hide out in the wilderness; do they even get TV?

“That depends on how close the nearest relay tower is and how confident we were that there was no one trying to locate our position by tracking signals to and from the CCT network,” Blake replied. “I suppose the answer to your questions is that it depends, on the availability and on the character of the leader of any given camp whether they allow it or not.” She paused. “You handled that reporter pretty well, just like the General said. I was surprised you didn’t get upset at that first question.”

“I’d be upset if someone that I cared about said it,” Rainbow replied, “but the kind of people who watch her show, what do I care what they think?”

“So long as there aren’t that many of them,” Blake murmured.

Rainbow frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that, once ideas become sufficiently popular, they enter the mainstream and have to be recognised,” Blake said. “That’s the essence of democracy. That was what my parents were always trying to do, push ideas of faunus rights into the mainstream by rallying support. It didn’t work, but … that was the theory.”

“I get what you’re saying, but her ideas aren’t that popular,” Rainbow assured her. “Speaking of your parents, are you going to call your mom and tell her you got into the tournament?”

“Blake?” Lady Belladonna called. “Blake?”

Blake’s ears wilted a little bit. “Apparently, waiting for a call was too much to ask,” she murmured. “It doesn’t seem fair that she can just come up here whenever she wants without asking me first.”

“Poor Blake, with your loving mother,” Rainbow said, reaching out to slip an arm around Blake’s shoulders. “You’re so oppressed.”

Blake made a wordless growling moan, before she said, “One day, I am going to meet your parents.”

“I know; that’s why I’m making fun of you while I still can,” Rainbow replied. “Frankly, I’m more worried about the fact that your mother made her way up here by herself with no escort.”

“Clearly, she made it okay.”

“That,” Rainbow said, “is not the point.”

Heading in the direction of the docking pads, it didn’t take them long to come across Lady Belladonna coming the other way, wandering down the path from the docks, hands cupped around her mouth as she called out Blake’s name.

Her face lit up at the sight of her daughter. “Blake! Congratulations!” she cried, rushing towards them, her black skirt bouncing up and down. “When I heard the news, I had to come up here and congratulate you in person.”

Blake frowned. “How did you get up here so fast?”

“Well, maybe I was already on the way up here when I heard the news because I had that much confidence in you?” Lady Belladonna suggested. “Does it really matter? The point is that this is wonderful news.” She threw her arms around Blake, enfolding her in a hug.

Blake slowly raised her hands onto her mother’s back, even as she said, “It’s not that big of a deal, Mom; I’m not even going to advance past the four-on-four round.”

“It’s still the Vytal Festival tournament,” Lady Belladonna replied. “You’ll still be up there, in the spotlight, showing what you’re made of in front of all those people.” She laughed. “And besides, I’ve missed six of your birthdays, and even if I hadn’t, I’m still your mother: I’m entitled to be gushingly excited about things that don’t matter to you.”

Blake smiled. “Okay, Mom.”

“Are you excited, Blake?” Lady Belladonna asked, pulling away from Blake just a little bit. “Even a little?”

The smile remained on Blake’s face. “Yes, Mom, I am, although as much for other people as for me. This … this is going to be fun, and everyone deserves some fun after the year we’ve had.”

“Always thinking about others, just like your father,” Lady Belladonna murmured. “I’m so proud of you.” She reached out to pinch Blake’s human ear.

Blake recoiled, ducking her head and holding up her hands to shield her face. “Mom, stop!”

Lady Belladonna covered her mouth with one hand as she laughed. She turned her attention to Rainbow. “And Rainbow Dash, did I hear right that your team will also be competing in the tournament?”

“That’s right, ma’am,” Rainbow said.

“Then congratulations are in order for you as well,” Lady Belladonna said, before she reached out and pulled Rainbow into an embrace of her own.

Rainbow froze, arms hanging down limp by her side as she felt Lady Belladonna’s arms around her shoulders, her hair tickling Rainbow’s cheek. “M-… ma’am?”

“Well, your own mother isn’t here to do this, so I’ll just have to fill in for her,” Lady Belladonna said casually. “I hope that you’re more excited about this than Blake is.”

Rainbow chuckled. “Maybe just a little bit, ma’am. I’ve got a list of people I want to impress.”

“In a spiteful way, or a positive one?”

“Um … is there a spiteful way to try and impress someone, ma’am?”

Lady Belladonna released Rainbow from her embrace, taking a step back. “I once asked Ghira, very early in our relationship — maybe a little too early, but it didn’t do me any harm — what drove him on. And he talked about justice and equality and the wellbeing of our people, of course, but then, eventually, he admitted that he was also doing it to show his father that the path he’d chosen was not a worthless one, and not the wrong one for him either.”

Did he feel like he’d managed that by the time he stepped down as leader of the White Fang? Rainbow wondered, but didn’t ask because it didn’t seem like the right time. “In that case, it’s the other kind, ma’am, the … the good kind. All the people who’ve helped me get where I am now.”

“Including your parents?” asked Lady Belladonna.

Rainbow swallowed. “They aren’t here to see it—”

“But I’m sure they’d love to hear that you were selected to compete in the tournament,” Lady Belladonna suggested. “If you give me a letter for them, I’ll make sure to deliver it when I get back to Menagerie.”

Rainbow frowned. “But … the tournament will be over by then, ma’am.”

“Then write more letters,” Lady Belladonna suggested. “Give me a whole sack full of letters for your parents, and I guarantee that I’ll deliver them all, just as I guarantee that they will be overjoyed to receive them, even the ones that are out of date.”

Rainbow didn’t say anything for a second. She supposed … she supposed she really ought to write to her parents some more. Just one letter, dropped on them out of the blue, and then nothing … it wasn’t much better than not writing at all, was it? In fact, it might even be worse, because she’d gotten their hopes up with the first letter.

And it wasn’t as though she didn’t have stuff to talk about, and she’d have more stuff by the time this tournament was over, hopefully.

“Are you sure, ma’am?” she asked. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“You helped me find my daughter again,” Lady Belladonna declared. “You’d have to go a lot further than that to put me out.”

Rainbow nodded. “Well, if you say so, ma’am, then sure, yes, I’ll do it. I’ll write you that bag full of letters. Thank you.”


“Ciel?” Penny murmured. “Can I … talk to you for a second?”

Ciel’s hand went to the pretty little silver watch she was wearing on her wrist. She had been about to turn away from Penny, now that the photographs had been taken, and nobody had asked to interview either Ciel or Penny, but as Penny called to her, she paused, halfway turned away, one foot half-raised, toe resting on the stonework.

And her hand upon her watch, as if she was about to pull on it.

Twilight stood just behind Penny. Rainbow had already gone with Blake to answer that reporter’s questions.

Maybe it would have been better to have waited until she could speak to Ciel and Rainbow Dash together, but Penny wanted to get it … not get it over with, exactly, but she wanted to say it now, while it was still fresh in her memory.

Maybe it was more Rainbow that she ought to say this to, since it was Rainbow who had brought it up, but this concerned Ciel too, and Penny wanted to say it.

Talking to Pyrrha and the others, what Pyrrha had said about the tournament, it had explained a couple of things to her. It had cleared some things up. Before today, there had still been some things that, as it turned out, she hadn’t quite understood.

About the Vytal Festival tournament, anyway, and about what it meant to compete in it.

Maybe she should have worked them out for herself. Yes, Rainbow hadn’t done so good a job of explaining it as Pyrrha, but at some point, Penny would have to start understanding things on her own and not wait for someone else to lay it out for her all nice and clear.

She shouldn’t have argued with Rainbow Dash when they first bought the subject up. What did the Vytal tournament matter to her anyway? What did it mean to her, whether she won or lost or even competed at all? It was just … no, no it wasn’t just anything, was it? That was what Pyrrha had made clear to her, but at the same time, to her, it kind of was just something, and it was the fact that it was just something to her that meant that she didn’t deserve to have all of the things that the Vytal Festival was.

That made sense. That totally made sense, the logic aligned perfectly, she simply lacked the words to express it in an organic fashion.

To compete in the Vytal tournament was a great honour, and it was an honour that Penny didn’t deserve because she didn’t feel very honoured by it.

There, perfect sense.

Why would she want to compete in the Vytal tournament? To honour Atlas? Atlas meant nothing to her; its flag didn’t stir any pride in her heart, its values didn’t move her at all, she could look up at the sky and feel nothing at the sight of a cruiser gliding overhead. She didn’t feel any drive or desire to honour Atlas, to make the kingdom proud; Atlas might be the kingdom that had made her, but Beacon— Vale was the kingdom she had chosen, the kingdom of kindness that she had found here.

Sometimes, you were born as part of a kingdom that was not the kingdom you were physically born in.

That was something else that made sense, and Penny could point to Blake — born an Atlesian in … Penny didn’t actually know where Blake had been born. Mistral? The point was that she was born an Atlesian but not born in Atlas — as an example to prove it.

Penny herself hadn’t been born, but she had been made in Atlas — but she hadn’t been made an Atlesian, and so, representing Atlas wasn’t something that enthused her; it didn’t fill her soul with warmth or light.

Which meant that she really oughtn’t to take that opportunity away from someone who wanted it, from someone who did feel pride in being Atlesian and wearing the Atlas uniform.

Why would Penny want to compete in the Vytal tournament? There wasn’t anybody she wanted to impress; the only person who might be impressed was her father, and Penny wasn’t that bothered about impressing him. Everyone else, Dad, her friends, they wouldn’t care one way or another. They would be pleased for her if she won, but it wouldn’t change the way they thought about her. Even if she won the whole tournament — not likely, since that would mean beating Pyrrha, and how likely was that? — then they’d be there to cheer her on and to congratulate her, but it wouldn’t change her life.

Penny had already changed her life. A trophy wouldn’t change it any more.

Penny … Penny had already changed her life with the help not of her friends, but of her teammates. Her teammates who maybe deserved some thanks for that.

Her teammates whose lives might be changed by winning this tournament, or at least getting far along the road.

Her teammates who had been born Atlesian and who had something to prove and who … it might not change their lives, but they would probably get more out of it than Penny would.

Ciel looked at Penny without turning her face towards her. “You … want to speak to me?”

“Yes,” Penny said. “I do. I … I owe you … I’m sorry.”

Ciel’s blue eyes got a little bit bigger, and now, Ciel looked at her full on in the face, although she still kept one hand on her watch. “'Sorry'?” she repeated, her voice soft. “Sorry for what?”

“I … I haven’t treated you and Rainbow Dash … I haven’t always … there are things that I should have understood a lot sooner,” Penny said. “You gave me what I really wanted, even though you weren’t supposed to … and then I asked for even more.”

“I am not certain what you—”

“I think Rainbow Dash should go into the one-on-one round of the tournament,” Penny said, “and I think that you should go with her into the two-on-two.”

Behind Penny, Twilight gasped.

Penny turned around. “I mean, unless you want to be the one to fight alongside Rainbow Dash, Twilight, then maybe you and Ciel should play rock, paper, scissors for who gets the spot.”

Twilight sniggered. “No, Penny, that … I will be glad to leave this whole thing behind me after the four-on-four round is over.”

“You want me to go with Dash?” Ciel asked. “You do not even want to go into the two-on-two round?”

Penny faced her once again. “It’s not just about what I want, is it?”

“Much has been about what you want thus far,” Ciel observed.

“Because that was about me,” Penny insisted. “My self, my choice, my freedom. This … this is about more than me; this is about glory and the school and the kingdom and honour and … and it’s too big to just be about what I want. Even if I wanted to fight, even if I wanted to reach the final … I don’t know if I do, I don’t know what I want, I know what my father wanted very much, but whether it’s what I want or not is something that maybe proves that I don’t want it, at least not that much. Because if I wanted it, then I’d know I want it, wouldn’t I?”

“It … is hard to say for certain,” Ciel murmured. “But that is certainly … a possibility.”

“Do you want it?” Penny asked.

Ciel hesitated. “One hesitates to confess to the sin of ambition, but at the same time, one must be honest about one’s flaws as well as one’s virtues—”

“Is it really a flaw or a sin when the biggest celebration in the world is built around it?” Penny asked. That didn’t make a lot of sense to her.

“Nevertheless, glory is not a thing which should be sought too eagerly,” Ciel replied.

“You haven’t sought it eagerly; you wouldn’t have said anything if I hadn’t brought it up,” Penny pointed out.

Ciel blinked. “I … yes. Yes, I want it.”

“Why?” Penny asked.

“Does it matter?”

“No,” Penny said, “but I wouldn’t mind knowing, if you don’t mind telling me.”

She wouldn’t have blamed Ciel if she had decided not to tell her, but, after a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Because the question of who rises and who … does not in Atlas is not purely determined by merit. Fame grants extra feathers to the wings of those who have it, and helps them to fly higher and more swiftly. One might call it perverse that it is better to be known for what is, in the grand scheme of things, a rather inconsequential thing than for deeds of true consequence, but … I would be known, then when it comes to assignments and postings, commanders will remember me and recall that they liked what they saw of me and re-… and accept my request to join their units or their bases.”

“Then you should do it,” Penny said. “You should go into the two-on-two. You … it would mean more to you than it would to me.”

Ciel’s brow furrowed. “Penny … this is what—”

“This is what I choose,” Penny said, before Ciel could say anything about her being made for this. That didn’t matter. Only what she wanted mattered.

And what she wanted was to make amends a little bit, if she could.

Ciel was silent a moment. “That … thank you, Penny; that is very generous of you.”

“Not really,” Penny said. “Not compared with the generosity that I’ve gotten from you and Rainbow, and you too, Twilight.”

“Thanks,” Twilight said, “but you do realise that if we don’t win the first match, all of this becomes extremely academic, and arguably hubristic.”

“You don’t think we’re going to win the first match?” Penny asked.

“Nothing’s guaranteed, is it?”

“I note you waited until Rainbow Dash was not around to hear that before you said it,” Ciel observed archly.

“I…” Twilight stopped. “I have faith in all of you; I just don’t want to make arrogant assumptions.”

Penny’s scroll went off. Ciel’s started buzzing at almost the same time.

“It’s your parents,” Twilight said. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Penny got out her scroll; Ciel did likewise.

“It’s my Dad!”

“It is my mother.”

“Told you,” Twilight said.

Penny looked around; she could see other students already on their scrolls, or else reaching for them as their devices buzzed; they were moving apart from one another, splitting up in this direction or that as so many students received a call from someone or other to congratulate them on being selected to compete.

Penny’s gaze, having flitted across the student body, returned to Ciel. “Well … have fun talking to your family.”

Ciel nodded. “And you also. Give my regards to the good doctor.”

“I will,” Penny said. She looked at Twilight. “I’ll tell him you both said hi.”

“Thanks, Penny,” said Twilight.

There was a moment that wasn’t that quiet, with their scrolls buzzing in their hands, but they were quiet towards one another.

Without another word, they turned away from one another, walking in opposite directions, their eyes upon their scrolls.

With the crowd around her thinning out, Penny answered her scroll.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hello there, darling!” Dad said cheerily, his voice echoing out of the scroll as his face appeared upon it. “I just heard the news. How do you feel about it?”

“It … it’s nice, I suppose,” Penny said. “You know that I was supposed to go into the one-on-one round, if we made it that far?”

Dad pushed his glasses back up his nose. “'Supposed to'?”

“I decided I didn’t want to,” Penny told him. “If Team Rosepetal wins the four-on-four round, I’m going to step back.”

“I see,” Dad said, although Penny couldn’t work out what he saw, unless it was her.

“See what?” she asked.

“What you just told me, I guess,” Dad said. “Why did you decide to do that?”

“Are you mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Why are you asking all these questions?”

Dad laughed jovially. “Penny,” he said, “I just want to understand a little bit better, not because I’m mad or I mind — whatever you want to do is fine with me — I guess I just want to make sure that it was what you wanted to do.”

“It was,” Penny confirmed. “I … it’s just not that important to me. I already have what I want; being called a champion or getting to fight on TV won’t change that.”

Dad smiled up at her out of the screen, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Hearing you say that makes me prouder than any number of tournament wins you could rack up,” he said. “I can’t promise Japeth will agree with me, but … are you happy, Penny?”

“Yes,” Penny said at once. “Yes, I am.”

“Then as your dad, that’s all I could wish for.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Penny said. She hesitated for a second. “Do you think … what do you think Father will say, when I tell him?”

“You don’t have to tell him right away,” Dad said.

“But he’ll find out eventually, won’t he?” asked Penny.

“I suppose he will, the tournament being on TV and all,” Dad admitted, “and when he does, I suppose you’ll just have to tell him that it’s your choice, not his. But do you want to tell him now?”

Penny shook her head. “Not really.”

“Then leave it for a little while,” Dad said, “Until you feel ready, and up to it. Listen, take care of yourself, darling; I know it’s only a tournament, and only one round, but accidents do happen, so take care.”

“I will, Dad,” Penny replied. “Trust me, everything is going to be great, I promise.”


"Is that your folks calling?"

Ciel looked up to see Neon drifting towards her through the dissipating crowd, nudging other students gently aside with her elbows as they came between her and Ciel.

"Yes, it is," Ciel replied. "I am a little surprised that your mother has not called you to offer her congratulations."

"My mom's at work," Neon reminded her. "She won't find out until she gets home tonight and watches the news."

That was true, and something that Ciel should have remembered. "Your grandmother, then."

Neon shook her head. "At this time of day, Nana will be watching … what day is it, yeah, Bazaar Bargains."

"Even today?" asked Ciel.

"Oh, Nana's not going to miss out just because I might be on the news," Neon said. "She won't miss her daytime TV even to watch my matches. She's obsessed with these programs." She grinned. "Remember that time she gave me two hundred lien and told me to go round all the markets and not come back without a bargain?"

Ciel did remember that; it had seemed such a hopeless cause that agreeing to keep Neon company had seemed the only reasonable thing to do. "As I recall, we had little luck."

"We found that knife," Neon reminded her. "That was pretty cool."

"It turned out to be worth less than you paid for it," Ciel pointed out.

"Yeah, but it was still pretty cool," Neon said. "I still have it. But you're right, we didn't find something that would make our fortunes at auction. And Mom wasn't too happy about the money, either." She paused, then nodded to the insistently buzzing scroll in Ciel's hands. "You should probably answer that."

Ciel did not remind Neon that it was she who had interrupted Ciel before she could answer, and simply pressed the green button to take the call.

"Ciel!" Alain cried as his face appeared on the screen, taking up so much of it that Ciel could scarcely see anything else. "You made it!"

"Good morning, Alain," Ciel said, the slight reproof in her voice clashing with the slight smile upon her face.

Alain made a face that was half smile and half pout. "Good morning, Ciel," he said. "But you did make it, didn't you?"

The smile on Ciel's face widened a little. "Yes, I did," she said, and she simultaneously reached out with her free hand to draw Neon in while moving her scroll so that both of them were in the screen. "And I am not alone in that, either."

Neon grinned as she put one arm around Ciel's shoulder. "Hey, kiddo," she said. "How are you doing?"

"I'm feeling so much better," Alain declared. "They let me out of the hospital and sent me home for a while until my next appointment, but Maman says I have to stay in bed."

"Maman is perfectly correct; you do not want to jeopardise your recovery with rash action," Ciel declared. "Where is Maman?"

The scroll screen moved a little away from Alain, revealing that they were in Alain's bedroom, with Florentin squatting next to his little brother's bed. "She's downstairs making lunch, but she says congratulations and good luck. I suppose good luck to both of you."

"You suppose?" Neon cried. "Highest ingratitude; next time you pick a fight with an angry boyfriend, I'll let you get your nose broken. Hmph! Hmph, I say!"

"I am sure that Florentin has learned his lesson, and there will be no repeat of that incident," Ciel murmured.

"You wouldn't want me to abandon a girl in distress, would you?" Florentin asked. "What would the Lady say to that?"

"The Lady reminds us that the intentions of the foolish man count for nought; his folly will undo him regardless," Ciel declared, asperity and amusement warring in her voice.

Now it was Florentin's turn to pout.

"If you and Neon are both in the tournament," Alain said, "does that mean you'll have to fight each other?"

"Teams from the same academy are not pitted against one another in the first round," Ciel said, "and while it is conceivable that we might be brought together, it is not likely."

"Of course," Neon added in a faux-casual tone, "if we were to be matched against one another, we both know who would win."

"I would," Ciel replied, "because your partner fights with a trumpet, of all things."

"Yeah, and why do you think he gets away with that except because he has a partner like me?"

"How many matches are you going to have?" asked Alain.

"She can't know that; it depends on who wins," Florentin told him.

"That is correct, but I hope for two," Ciel replied.

"'Two'?" asked Neon. "I thought you were going to bow out after the four-on-four?"

"I was," Ciel said, "but now I am not."

Neon frowned. "You and Penny?"

"Rainbow Dash and I," Ciel corrected her.

"Really?" Neon asked. "Okay then."

"What do you mean about dropping out?" asked Alain.

"Oh, right, this is going to be your first tournament, isn't it?" Neon said. "You're going to remember this for the rest of your life, trust me. Now, for this tournament, each team starts with four students, but after they win the first match, two of them drop out, so in your sister's team, only her and her team leader Rainbow Dash will go through and fight in the next match, and when they win that one—"

"If we win," Ciel murmured.

"Whatever, the point is that only one of them will go on and fight in the finals."

"Will that be you?" asked Alain.

"No," Ciel said. "My weapon is not suited for one-on-one combat at close quarters, and those I would be up against are supremely trained and skilled in close combat. I would be overmatched."

"Unlike me," Neon said, raising a fist level with her head. "I'm never unarmed, and I will be going into the finals, so you'll have someone to cheer for all the way through."

Alain giggled. "Everyone seems so excited. Is it going to be amazing?"

"Absolutely amazing," Neon promised. "In years to come, when you're older than your parents, one day, the eightieth Vytal Festival is gonna come around, and you'll be able to bore your grandchildren by telling them how you saw your big sister and her best friend compete in the fortieth Vytal Festival, you've never forgotten." She looked at Ciel, beaming. "Because we're going to make it worth every minute, aren't we?"

Ciel looked at Neon, and then looked down at Alain, his face so excited, positively glowing with excitement.

Thank you, Penny.

"Yes," she said, "yes, I should say we will."


"Miss Schnee?"

Weiss ignored the rather plaintive voice and continued to walk away.

"Miss Schnee!?" the voice called out to her, rather more insistent this time. She could hear footsteps on the stone behind her.

Weiss sighed as she came to a stop. It was not that there was no getting around this — she was fairly sure that she could outrun any journalist — but there was a difference between walking away and pretending that you hadn't heard someone and taking to one's heels, leaving no doubt that you had heard but didn't want to reply.

One was infinitely less dignified than the other.

She was not wearing Myrtenaster, which was a pity, not because she had need of it but because gripping the hilt of her rapier would have given her something to do with one hand as she turned to face her pursuer.

Said pursuer was a woman, blonde, wearing a pink jacket and a pencil skirt that wrapped tightly around her legs; it was rather impressive that she'd been able to run in it. A drone hovered over her shoulder, four small engines glowing with the purple light of the gravity dust they were burning. A single camera lens jutted out of the drone's boxy body; it was pointed straight at Weiss.

"Miss Schnee," the woman repeated. "Cerise Carnelian, ANN; I was wondering if—"

"If you want to ask me about anything other than the upcoming tournament, then my only answer is 'no comment,'" Weiss declared. "I'm not my father, I'm not his publicist, and I'm not a spokesman for the Schnee Dust Company, and I won't be taking questions on matters in Atlas." She paused for a moment. "Now, if there's nothing else—" She began to turn away again, her toes scraping upon the stone of the courtyard.

"Why would you enter this tournament?" Cerise asked, the words leaping out of her mouth as though they were a rope she was flinging out to lasso Weiss before she could get away.

Weiss paused, not turning back but not walking away either. "I was selected, as was the rest of my team," she said. "It's a great honour—"

"An honour which you could have denied," Cerise pointed out. "No team is forced to participate in the Vytal tournament against their well; you have to put your name forward for consideration. So why did you?"

Weiss raised her chin up a little, and still didn't look at the reporter. "I don't see why we shouldn't have."

"Aren't you worried about how people will react to your presence?" asked Cerise. "Aren't you worried about your treatment by the crowd?"

"No," Weiss said at once, and now, she faced Cerise Carnelian. "No, I am not. I'm not worried because I've done nothing wrong, and so anyone who wants to boo me or jeer me or heckle me for no reason shames only themselves; they have no power to make me ashamed. And furthermore, I won't be alone in the arena; I'll be with my teammates, and I wouldn't be a very good team leader if I denied them this opportunity because I'd rather hide under the bed from the opinions of the crowd. For that matter, I wouldn't be very much of a huntress. The crowd may think as they please; they will not dictate my actions."

"Then you don't see this as an attempt to redeem your family name?" asked Cerise.

Thus inviting me to confirm that I see the name as being in need of redemption, Weiss thought. That was something that she was in two minds over: on the one hand, she could not deny the stain that hung over the family and the company by the revelations of what SDC employees had done and what her father, in his ignorance, had tolerated, but at the same time, it irked her that her father — who had not even been born a Schnee but had married into it — was allowed put a seemingly indelible mark upon a name that was not his own, that he had taken from her mother and her grandfather.

"No comment," she said, because whatever she thought about the possibility that the Schnee name might need redemption, she certainly wasn't going to admit the fact in front of some reporter.

"Do you hope to do well in the tournament?" asked Cerise.

"Obviously," Weiss said, resisting the temptation to roll her eyes.

"Why?"

"You are familiar with the concept of a tournament?" Weiss responded.

"Do you hope to face either Rainbow Dash or Blake Belladonna in battle?"

"There are no battles in the Vytal Festival; there are matches," Weiss corrected her. "Do I hope to face either of them in a match? I doubt it will happen, especially in Blake's case, but yes, I would welcome it."

"Why?"

"Because they're both very skilled, and I'd relish my chance to test myself against the best," Weiss said sharply. "For all the talk of celebrating peace and unity — ideals to which I subscribe — this is, at the end of the day, a contest, and as a contest, it ought to be challenging. I want to know where I stand relative to my peers."

Cerise smirked slightly. "Isn't that the point of class, Miss Schnee?"

"Perhaps I want the world to know where I stand relative to my peers," Weiss suggested.

"Then you don't want to seek them out for revenge?"

"Revenge for what?" Weiss asked calmly.

Cerise opened her mouth, and then closed. "I … it's not typical for the interviewee to ask questions."

"Is it common for the interviewer to make such loaded statements?" Weiss responded. "What do I have to seek revenge for?"

Cerise was silent for a few seconds. "Tarnishing the name of the SDC," she said, in the end. It was, after all, just about the only thing that she could say.

"Blake Belladonna and Rainbow Dash are both friends of mine," Weiss said, and kept her voice calm, even if she did allow a little chill to enter into it. "They did something that they can be proud of, and Atlas should be proud of them for doing it, and that's all I have to say on the matter."

Cerise's mouth turned downwards in disappointment, but all she said was, "Thank you for your time, Miss Schnee." And then it was her turn to turn and walk away.

Weiss barely gave her a second glance before she resumed her course. She meant to head … somewhere else, although she wasn't entirely sure why. Somewhere quiet, away from the media circus.

Her scroll rang. Opening it up and checking the caller ID revealed that it was Klein calling her.

Weiss answered immediately. "Klein?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"

"I should hope not, Miss Schnee." The call was voice only, so Weiss was left to imagine his round face, the walrus moustache concealing his upper lip, the bald patina upon his head. "I was merely calling to offer my congratulations upon your having been selected to compete in the tournament."

"You were watching?" Weiss asked, surprised that he'd been given the time off.

"Alas, no, Miss Schnee," Klein said. "I believe that young Master Whitley watched the announcement live — at least, he was when I brought him a macchiato in the sitting room — but my duties meant I had to content myself with listening to the announcement on the radio whilst doing the ironing." He paused. "May I ask how 'Wisteria' is spelt?"

"W-W-S-R," Weiss replied.

There was a moment of silence before Klein said, "Pronouncing that 'Wisteria' sounds like rather a cheat, Miss, I must say."

Weiss laughed. "You may be right, but on the other hand, what kind of a word are you going to make out of Weiss Schnee, Cardin Winchester, Flash Sentry, and Russel Thrush?"

"I'm afraid you might need to let me think about that one, Miss Schnee," Klein admitted.

Weiss chuckled. "So, Whitley knows?"

"I believe so, yes."

"And…" Weiss hesitated for a moment, wondering if she really wanted to know the answer to this or not. She had an idea already — Klein hadn't mentioned either of her parents watching the announcement with Whitley — but nevertheless, she felt drawn towards the question, if only for the slim possibility that she would be proven wrong. "And my parents? Did they … are they aware that I have been selected?"

There was a moment of silence upon the scroll. "I'm afraid that your mother has taken to bed, Miss Schnee, with a dreadful headache; otherwise—"

"Yes," Weiss said, cutting him off with a voice that had suddenly turned brittle. Mother has gone to bed nursing a hangover, you mean, or else she certainly would have been out in the garden with some more wine out of the cellar and not watching television to see who had been chosen to compete in the Vytal tournament. "Yes, of course she would have. And … my father?"

"Is very busy at the moment, what with everything that is going on," Klein murmured apologetically.

"Yes," Weiss said quietly. "Yes, of course he is."

"But I'm sure that once he learns the news, he will be as proud of you as I am, Miss Schnee," Klein added.

My father will be as proud of me as my butler. It ought to have sounded absurd, or worse, cynical: calculated false compassion from a man who was paid to care about her feelings.

It ought to have, perhaps, but it didn't. It … couldn't, at least not to Weiss. It felt … it warmed her inside, like one of his coffees on an exquisitely cold day.

Though Klein couldn't see it, a smile blossomed upon Weiss' face like a flower opening with the dawn.

"Thank you, Klein," she said. "If your duties don't permit you to watch the matches, I'm afraid that the radio coverage may not be an adequate substitute, but nevertheless, I appreciate your support."

"You're very welcome, Miss Schnee."


“Pyrrha Nikos! Pyrrha Nikos? Arslan Altan, please don’t go anywhere, but can I start with Pyrrha Nikos?”

Pyrrha let out a slight sigh, but not too much of one, because it hadn’t been very difficult to see this coming. And besides, she thought as she walked towards the woman she recognised as Merope Plei of the Mistralian Broadcasting Corporation, there are, perhaps, others here who are going to get a much rougher ride than I am.

She doubted that the reporter who wanted to speak to Rainbow Dash and Blake at the same time was that interested in discussing the Vytal Festival.

“Hello again,” Pyrrha said, as she reached Ms. Plei, who had tied her hair back into a more informal ponytail in place of the bun that she had worn the last time they had met, at the Mistralian embassy. Her cameraman also looked different; this one had a beard, although that aside, they were both fulfilling the same function of pointing a camera over Merope’s shoulder and in the direction of Pyrrha’s face.

Pyrrha added, “I thought you did the evening news?”

“I’m also heading up MBC’s coverage of the whole Vytal tournament,” Merope said.

“Congratulations,” Pyrrha said.

Merope smiled. “Thank you. Now, may I ask you a few questions?” She shoved the microphone pre-emptively towards Pyrrha’s face.

Pyrrha put on her practised public relations smile. “Of course!” she said, injecting a note of apparent bonhomie and enthusiasm into it. “That’s what I’m here for, after all.”

So long as she sticks to the usual questions, then this will be over and done with very quickly.

And if she asks any unusual questions, then I can deal with it, just as I did before.

“Excellent,” Merope said. “Pyrrha Nikos, how do you rate your chances in this tournament?”

“Well, I’ll certainly give it my best shot,” Pyrrha said, “but there are a lot of very talented students here competing, and I’m not taking anything for granted.”

She had been asked that question before every tournament since she had returned to defend her championship title for the first time, and she always gave the exact same answer. She was a little surprised that people kept asking.

“Even though you’re a Beacon student, a lot of people will interpret your victory as a victory for Mistral; how do you feel about that?”

That was a new question, but not wholly unexpected, given the context.

“I’m grateful for the support of all my fans,” Pyrrha began, “but I’d like to remind everyone that there are no kingdoms competing in this tournament. Mistral isn’t competing, Vale isn’t competing, Haven Academy is competing, and Beacon Academy, and so, while I am a Mistralian and I will always be a Mistralian, I’m not representing the Kingdom of Mistral in this tournament because no one is.”

“But that’s not what I asked,” Merope said. “I asked how you felt about the fact that people will see your victory as a victory for Mistral, not whether that was accurate or not.”

“Talk about my victory is somewhat premature,” Pyrrha replied. “As for your question … I can’t control what people think; if that is how they want to look at it, then I can’t stop them.”

“But do you approve?”

“I … understand why they would feel that way,” Pyrrha said, and hoped that was diplomatic enough for Merope to take it as an answer and move on.

“Do you regret that you won’t be competing as a Haven student?”

“No,” Pyrrha said at once. “I don’t regret my decision to attend Beacon Academy.”

Merope nodded. “It’s been suggested that if you or a Haven student wins the tournament that you should be honoured with free dinners at the public expense at the Prytaneum; what do you think about that?”

“That would be a great honour, albeit not one that I particularly require,” Pyrrha replied.

“I see,” Merope said. “Thank you, Pyrrha Nikos. Arslan Altan, can I have you over here please?”

Pyrrha smiled graciously, and gratefully, as she stepped away from the camera. Jaune was waiting for her, lingering not too far away, his eyes fixed upon her.

“Thank you for waiting,” she murmured as she slipped her hand into his.

“You weren’t very long,” Jaune pointed out. “I thought it would take longer.”

Pyrrha shook her head, her long ponytail swirling behind her in response to the motion, her hairs tickling her bare shoulders. “These kind of interviews aren’t designed to go in depth, and since they’re essentially fluff pieces, they don’t ask the tough questions. It’s all to get a couple of quotes to splice into the news bulletin for later. If Arslan comes up with something good, they might not even use anything I said.”

“So … not the worst experience you’ve ever had with the press, then?” Jaune asked as they began to walk away, a little aimlessly but mostly ambling in the direction of the docking pads.

“Oh, no, far from it,” Pyrrha replied. “I may not particularly like it, but this kind of thing, I can handle very easily by now.”

“Are you going to tell your mom?” asked Jaune.

“Mother has already been taking my participation for granted,” Pyrrha replied. “I’m not sure what would be changed by confirming it.”

“Yeah, but … it’s a done deal now,” Jaune pointed out. “Excited?”

Pyrrha paused. “Yes, strangely enough.”

“I don’t know that there’s anything strange about it,” Jaune replied. “It’s a big deal.”

“Is it?” asked Pyrrha, looking up at him. “I mean … there is a sense in which Ruby is right, and it doesn’t really make much difference. But at the same time … this is a part of my life ending. A swan song, if you will; is it wrong if I want to bring the curtain down in style?”

“No,” Jaune said. “No, it isn’t wrong at all. It makes perfect sense. And you’re going to do it too.” He bent down to kiss her on the cheek. “I believe in you.”

Pyrrha smiled. “I should hope so,” she said teasingly. “Are you going to call your family?”

Jaune’s eyes darted back and forth, and the smile faded off his face. “I, uh … I don’t know about that,” he said. “I mean, it’s not such a big deal for me—”

“That isn’t the impression I got when we were staying with them,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“I’ll only be fighting in one round,” Jaune pointed.

“That’s more than many people ever do,” Pyrrha responded. “Jaune … do you not want to call them?”

“Don’t you want to talk to your mom?” asked Jaune.

That was … that felt unfair while at the same time being entirely deserved. “Point taken,” Pyrrha murmured. She leaned closer to Jaune, resting her side against his arm, putting her free hand upon his bicep, squeezing it gently, letting her long red hair drape down his arm. “I know that Sunset is quite right about attending this reception, but I can’t say that I’m particularly looking forward to it.”

“It won’t be bad, will it?” Jaune asked. “It’ll just be stuff that you can handle easily, like that interview.”

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha allowed. “But I was rather hoping to leave all efforts to commercialise my image behind.”

“Maybe you can donate the proceeds to charity, like you did with the Pumpkin Pete money?” suggested Jaune.

“That … yes, that’s a very good idea.”

“So is that what this is going to be about?” asked Jaune. “Sponsorships?”

“I expect that will be some of it, no doubt,” Pyrrha replied. “There may be other things as well, a chance to meet politicians, prominent figures, business magnates. It will be valuable to have their good opinion, as Sunset suggests.”

“Unless you’re Pyrrha Nikos, the Princess Without a Crown, and you can afford to ignore all of that because everyone knows you anyway,” Jaune said teasingly.

Pyrrha chuckled softly. “Yes, well … perhaps even I could do with some contacts. Or perhaps I could help with the introductions for the rest of you.”

“Just because we’re fighting in the shadows for Ozpin,” Jaune said, “doesn’t mean that people in the light can’t help us out. Maybe, anyway. If … if you still want to be involved.”

Pyrrha glanced up at him. “You mean…”

“I mean … you haven’t seemed … I can’t blame you, I mean, I’m not … what he asked of you—”

“Seemed necessary,” Pyrrha whispered.

“That doesn’t make it right,” Jaune said harshly.

“No,” Pyrrha agreed. “No, it does not, and I … I doubt that I will ever look at him the same way again, trust him the way that I did, but to walk away from his cause and his service because I do not like the man? No, I could not do that.”

“The way…” Jaune trailed off for a moment. “The way I understand it, in Mistral, in the old days, if a lord treated their retainer like that … then they’d walk.”

Pyrrha blinked. “In Mistral, in the old days?”

Jaune let out a sheepish chuckle. He reached up and scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “I’ve been trying to get to grips with your culture.”

Pyrrha stared at him for a moment, before her mouth formed into an O and a soft sound escaped her lips. “Oh, Jaune, that … that is so sweet of you.”

“Emphasis on the word ‘try,’” Jaune told her. “I don’t know how Sunset finds this stuff so easy, or you, for that matter; I understand every other word I’m reading sometimes—”

“That comes with being brought up with it, I think.”

“And I understand the people even less.”

“That certainly comes with being brought up with those tales,” Pyrrha said, “and with the attitudes that underpin them.” She paused a second, looking away from him, down at their feet as they walked. “But, in answer to your question, perhaps that would have been the reaction in Mistral, in the old days … but the old days are gone, and Cinder is right to say that I am not a figure out of the past, whole and entire.”

“She’s wrong that that’s a bad thing,” Jaune said.

“I think so.”

“I know so,” Jaune said. “I may not understand everything, but I understand that.”

“And I understand that though Professor Ozpin may lead, this struggle, nevertheless, is bigger than him,” Pyrrha said. “It is so much bigger, it takes in Amber and the other maidens and Mistral and the whole of Remnant. I cannot turn away simply because I feel that Professor Ozpin has not treated me as I deserve. I am not my namesake ancestor, to sulk in a tent until my injured pride has been assuaged with flattery — or my sense of injury has been replaced by rage.”

After all, although she did not mention this to Jaune, the decision of Pyrrha of old to forsake the battle had cost her the life of Camilla, her dearest companion. She would not take that risk.

“No,” she said. “I will fight on. But perhaps with a little less deference.”

Jaune nodded. “That sounds fair enough.”

His scroll went off; pressed against him as she was, Pyrrha felt the vibrations making him tremble.

She released him, giving him space to fish his scroll out of one of the pouches on his belt.

He got out the device. “It’s … my mom?”

“Either she has heard the news already,” Pyrrha said, “or she knows that it’s coming and she wants to hear from you what the outcome was.”

Jaune hesitated.

“Jaune,” Pyrrha murmured, putting a hand on his arm. “You’re a Vytal Festival contestant. You have nothing but good news.”

“Right,” Jaune said. “Just … old habits, I guess.”

He answered the scroll.

“Congratulations, Jaune!” the voice of the legion — actually, it was the voice of Jaune’s family, but all speaking together, they achieved rather the same effect — issued out of his scroll.

Pyrrha edged closer, close enough to see Jaune’s mother and his father and as many of his sisters as were present — so no Saphron — and would fit into the frame, all beaming up at Jaune from out of the screen.

“Hey, Pyrrha!” River called as she caught sight of her. She waved excitedly. “Congratulations to you too.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Thank you, very much.”

“This…” Jaune murmured. “Is this about the Vytal Festival?”

“I’m not sure what it’s about,” Aoko said. “I’m happy for you, though.”

“Yes, it’s about the Vytal Festival,” Sky said. “And Aoko, we told you that.”

“I wasn’t paying attention.”

“We all watched the announcement of the competitors live on the new TV that Dad bought,” Rouge explained. “What were you talking about during the ceremony?”

Pyrrha felt herself grow a little colder. “You … you saw that?”

“There was a camera that kept cutting to you,” Rouge explained.

“Oh,” Pyrrha murmured. “Well, it was … one of our Atlas friends had a problem regarding … well, it’s a long story, but they needed some advice.”

“Are they competing as well?” asked Sky. “Are they better than you?”

“Don’t ask that!” River cried. “It’s really rude!”

“It might be important, though,” Sky said.

“Nobody is better than Jaune’s team,” Mister Arc declared. “Isn’t that right, Jaune?”

“But no pressure.” Kendal added.

“The pressure was there already,” Jaune said. “But Dad … you bought a TV?”

“We couldn’t exactly watch you on the oven, could we?” asked Mister Arc.

“Yeah, but…” Jaune trailed off. “Thanks, Dad. Thanks … everyone.”

“I’m just glad you’re fighting in a competition,” said Mrs. Arc, “and not against monsters.”

“Are you excited, Jaune?” asked River.

“I … I am, yeah,” Jaune said, his back straightened. “I’ll make you proud, just watch.”

“Don’t do it for us!” Kendal cried. “Do it for yourself. And have fun!”

They hung up.

Pyrrha chuckled. “You know … we may have gotten off on the wrong foot to begin with, but you have a very nice family.”

“They bought a TV,” Jaune muttered.

Pyrrha blinked. “Jaune?”

“They bought a TV so that they could watch me,” Jaune said. “So that they could watch me. I never thought … I never thought that they’d actually … they never believed in me like that, not ever. I never…”

“They’ve seen that you’re … a very believable person,” Pyrrha told him, taking him by the hands. “Just like I did.”

Jaune looked at her, a smile playing across his face. “'Believable'?”

“Mmm, not quite right, is it?” Pyrrha admitted.

It was the turn of her own scroll to go off, not the continual, verging on incessant buzzing of a call, but the single droning note of a text message.

It was followed by two more buzzing alerts.

Three messages then, and arriving in quick succession.

Pyrrha checked them on her scroll, pulling it out of one of her pouches and opening it up.

“Three people, or one person pushing ‘send’ three times?” Jaune asked.

“Three people,” Pyrrha said, a little amusement in her voice. “From Chariclo, my old nurse—”

“The one who gave you your sash, right?” Jaune asked.

Pyrrha nodded. “That’s right. She says…” She trailed off as she actually read what Chariclo had written and decided that she didn’t really want to read it to Jaune. She could feel her own face reddening.

Jaune laughed. “What?” he asked. “What is it?”

Pyrrha swallowed. “I … I cannot believe that the little girl whose… that the little girl whose bottom I used to clean is now the great hope of Mistral. I also cannot believe that you would talk during a solemn ceremony; you were raised better than that. But never mind that; nobody’s perfect. I will be watching, and my husband too, and all our hopes and all the gods are with you. You are great. Now show Remnant. Love, Chariclo.”

“Aw, that was nice,” Jaune said. “Apart from the bit about cleaning your bottom, I guess.”

“Mmm,” Pyrrha said, her face not feeling like it was going to return to its normal colour any time soon.

Jaune laughed again as he enfolded her in his arms, drawing her closer towards him. “Give it time,” he said, “and I’m sure my mom will tell you all sorts about me as a kid too.” He stroked her head and ran his fingers through her hair; she could feel him tugging slightly against her ponytail. “What are the other messages?”

“Um … one is from Chiron, Chariclo’s husband and my tutor. It says ‘Tyche Agathe.’”

“Too-what?”

“Tyche Agathe,” Pyrrha repeated. “It means ‘With good fortune’; it is the words that I had engraved on the honour band that Chiron gave me when my training was complete.” She looked down at her scroll. “The last is from my mother: 'Always be the best, the bravest, and hold your head up high above the others.'”

“The Mistralian words,” Jaune said softly. “The ones that all Mistralians are supposed to live by.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said. She looked up at him. “As I said, you have a very nice family.”

He didn’t reply to her.

He didn’t need to.


Everyone else had gone from the statue, but Ruby still sat there, under the muzzle of the snarling beowolf.

Uncle Qrow sat beside her, with Yang sat on the other side of him.

The stone beowolf hovered over all of them, like a less cute version of Fluffy, mouth open to bite, arms poised to strike. But not moving. Not making a sound.

Uncle Qrow plucked the flask out of his pocket and took a swig. Silently, he offered it to Yang.

Yang stared at him. “Seriously?”

“You’re old enough to risk your life fighting monsters, you’re old enough to drink,” Qrow said. “Besides, you are old enough to drink, right?”

“Yeah, I am; I guess I just … you know Dad would kill you if he knew about this, right?”

“I know that he’d try,” Uncle Qrow said, dark laughter in his voice. “Are you gonna tell him?”

“No,” Yang scoffed as she took the flask out of his unresisting hand. She knocked it back, throwing her head backwards and raising the flask upside down for a few seconds, before she hunched over, belly bent. Her face twisted, grimacing with pain, her mouth making all kinds of weird shapes as her eyes fluttered between red and lilac.

“Uncle Qrow!” she shouted. “That’s disgusting! What is that stuff?”

“Kaledonian whisky,” Uncle Qrow said. “Hard stuff, but delicious.”

“You call that delicious?” Yang said. “That was foul.”

Uncle Qrow shrugged. “It’s an acquired taste, I guess.”

“Can I try some?” asked Ruby.

“No,” said Yang and Uncle Qrow at the same time, the former more vehemently than the latter.

“Ruby, you do not want to try that, trust me.”

“You’re a little too young,” Uncle Qrow added.

“But you just said—”

“I know what I said, but there need to be some limits, right?” Uncle Qrow asked. He smiled for a second. “So … you both got in, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “Yeah, we did.”

Uncle Qrow looked first at Ruby, and then at Yang. “Does that mean anything to you?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “Yeah, it does.”

“It means getting to cut loose and have some low-stakes, high action fun,” Yang declared. “It means getting to show what we’ve got with everyone watching. It’s … it’s our exhibition. It’s when we get to show off. It’s when we get recognised. It’s … it’s the time when people pay notice of us when they’re not relying on us to save their lives, and that … that’s special. At least, to me, it is.”

“It’s fun for everyone,” Ruby said. “It’s all it is, but sometimes, that’s all it needs to be, because it’s something we all need. It’s memories that will last a lifetime. It’s important to Pyrrha, and I think to Sunset too, and like Yang said, it’s important. It’s not important in the same way as some other stuff, but it’s still important. Plus, you know, it’s the reason why Penny came to Vale, and Sun, and all the other students from all the other schools, it’s the reason why we made so many friends, and that … I love this festival, and I’m glad that I can be a part of it, along with everyone else.”

Uncle Qrow leaned back a little bit, and nearly fell backwards before he righted himself. “That’s good,” he said. “I was worried you were going to say it didn’t matter to you.”

“That day,” Ruby said, “was one of my best days ever. It’ll never not matter to me.”

Yang chuckled. “I wonder,” she said, “if there are a couple of kids out there somewhere who are going to come and watch the tournament, and in a few years, they’ll be Beacon students remembering how they watched us fight and hoping that they get to make an impression on the next lot of kids.”

“And so on and so on and so on forever?” Ruby asked.

Yang snorted. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds kinda stupid.”

“No,” Ruby said quickly. “No, it doesn’t, not at all; it sounds … it sounds really cool. I hope it’s true. I hope they’re out there somewhere.” She paused and bowed her head. “Plus … I kind of like that we’ve got this break where … we don’t have to … I’m seeing the benefits of it not mattering. A break … a break from…” From soul-wrenching choices.

Uncle Qrow nodded. “Yep, that’s another advantage to it,” he agreed. He sighed. “You know, when I was your age, it was only Tai out of the three of us who knew what the hell the Vytal Festival was. Your mom came from outside the kingdoms, and Raven and I, well … you know.”

“What did you think of it?” asked Yang.

“Raven thought it was stupid at first, but she came to love it,” Qrow replied. “Specifically, she loved the attention, the fame, the glory. When the two of us won our two-on-two round—”

“You two went into the two-on-twos?” Yang asked. “Not Mom or Dad?”

Uncle Qrow shook his head. “Your mom was a great leader, and she could kill grimm like nobody’s business, but when it came to fighting other huntsmen, Raven and I were better than her, and definitely better than your dad. Anyway, after we won that match, with the crowd cheering our names like … it was like thunder, but like water too, waves of thunder, thunderous waves crashing down on us from all sides, and the two of us in the middle of it … Raven looked ten feet tall that day.”

“But she didn’t go through to the finals, did she?” said Ruby. “You did.”

Uncle Qrow snorted. “Well … Raven wasn’t the only one who found the love of the crowd intoxicating. After … let’s just say that I wasn’t always the super cool uncle that you know — back then, I wasn’t always Mister Popular — but in that arena, with Harbinger in my hand, they loved me, and I couldn’t get enough of it.”

Yang grinned. “So, if you both wanted it — and it seems like you did — how did you pick? Just because I’m curious, you understand, and not because I might need it for when me and Nora go to pick which of us gets to make it to the finals.”

“Raven wanted to fight for it, but Summer wouldn’t allow it,” Uncle Qrow explained. “So we settled for arm wrestling.”

“And you won,” Ruby said.

“Yep,” Uncle Qrow said happily. “And I won.”

“And Mom?” asked Ruby. “What did she think about the tournament?”

“She thought it was frivolous, at first, play fighting for entertainment,” Uncle Qrow said. “She went along with it, but I’m not sure how much she ever really got it. She loved the rest of the Festival, though, said she didn’t need to see the world because the world had come to Vale to meet her.”

Ruby smiled. “That … that sounds like a really nice way of putting it.”

“Treasure these moments, kids,” Qrow said. “They’re the days that you’ll remember for the rest of your lives.” He paused. “And kick some Atlesian ass for me, so that I can keep looking Jimmy in the face.”

Ruby snorted. “We’ll try, Uncle Qrow.”

“Try nothing, we’ll do it,” Yang declared. “Just watch, Uncle Qrow. Watch our every step.”


Sunset walked into the dorm room, shutting the door behind her with one hand.

The room was empty apart from her; there was no one here, not even Amber.

That was all to the good, Sunset thought as she got her magical journal out from under the bed — under Amber's bed, now; thankfully, the other girl didn't seem inclined to go prying down here — and set it down upon the desk. It wasn't that she minded having people around to watch her do this, but it was a lot easier when she wasn't going to be disturbed.

Everyone was busy with their own things right now, and this was her thing. She should have done this sooner, really; she had a lot to catch Twilight and Princess Celestia up on.

And something in specific that she could use their advice upon.

Sunset opened the book up to the first blank page. There were not too many blank pages left. If she was going to create a new book for Professor Ozpin, then she would do with making one for herself as well; she wasn't in danger of running out of pages just yet, but it was going to creep up on her if she didn't get to it.

That was still something for the future, however; for the nearer future than the farther, sure, but for the future all the same. For now, she just wanted to talk.

And so, with a blank page before her, Sunset started to write.

Hey, Twilight. I'm sorry that I haven't written for a little while; things have been

Sunset paused, choosing the right word.

busy.

She leaned back in her chair somewhat, her tail flicking backwards and forwards as she waited for a response.

The words began to appear on the page in Twilight's elegant cursive script.

Who are you again?

Sunset snorted, even as she rolled her eyes. I said I was sorry.

Yes, you did, and you maybe didn't even have to do that. If you're busy, then you're busy; it's just one of those things. But, since you're here now, shall I ask Celestia to come over?

Yes, if you wouldn't mind. I want to speak to you as well, but, yes, it would be good if I could speak, or write, to Princess Celestia.

Hold on, I'll just get Spike to send the message.

I'll be here.

There was no response from Twilight. Sunset could imagine her finding Spike and dictating her message to Princess Celestia. The imagining of it, of Twilight prowling the corridors of her castle in search of her assistant, occupied her mind somewhat as she waited. She had some idea of what Twilight's castle looked like from Twilight's description, but that description nevertheless left a great deal to the imagination, and so, in her imagination, Sunset built it, crafting rooms out of nothing, polishing the walls, making the floors sparkle.

A crystal castle.

A living crystal castle.

Only in Equestria could you find such wonders.

Remnant was a fair enough place, some parts of it were more than fair enough, and its people more than fair, but it had nothing to offer in such a comparison. There was too little magic here to sustain a marvel of that sort.

I've sent the message. I'm sure Princess Celestia will be here soon.

Thanks Twilight. So, how have you been recently?

Well, it's probably a good thing that you didn't get in touch before now; things have been rather hectic over here too. I've got a new apprentice.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. Really? Who are they?

THer name is Starlight Glimmer

Starlight Glimmer? I know the human version of her; she was a big help to me not so long ago.

Really? She helped?

Sunset's brow furrowed. Yeah, she and Trixie both. She sought for a suitable phrasing. They picked me up when I was down very low.

My Starlight tried to erase me from existence.

Sunset stared at the page, because surely, Twilight hadn't actually just written that.

No, no, she had. Those were the words that Twilight had written.

Come again?

It's a bit of a long story, but to keep it brief, I first met Starlight not long after the incident with Tirek that I've already told you about. She was stealing the cutie marks of other ponies and ruling over them in a village in the middle of nowhere, a village where everyone would be equal and nobody would feel outshone because of the special talents of others — at least, that was how Starlight justified herself. My friends and I defeated her and freed all the other ponies, restoring their cutie marks, but Starlight herself escaped. Then she came after me for revenge, planning to travel back through time and stop me from getting my friends and I from getting our cutie marks.

But time travel beyond seven days from the point of the spell casting isn't possible, and even then, you can hardly keep yourself in the past for more than a couple of minutes.

That was the conventional wisdom, but Starlight had found a lost spell by Starswirl the Bearded that allowed to travel back as far as she liked for as long as she liked. She's incredibly powerful magically, more powerful than me, as I am now, an alicorn.

Sunset swallowed. A unicorn is more powerful than an alicorn? That's not possible.

Why not?

Because alicorns are the elite! They represent the best of ponykind, the strengths of all three races blended together in harmony! Some unicorn can't best them, otherwise, what's the point?

To inspire? To lead? To show other ponies the way forward? Things that required wisdom, patience, charisma, not brute magical strength.

I love the way you just sneakily claimed that you are wise, patient, and charismatic. But I suppose you might have a point. I take it from the fact that we can talk like this that pony Starlight didn't succeed in breaking time, but why did you take her on as your apprentice? How did you even stop her in the first place?

Because I came to understand what was driving Starlight, and I think that, for the first time, consciously, Starlight accepted what was driving Starlight too. Everything else — the hatred of cutie marks, the village — it was all just an attempt to create a world where she wouldn't be abandoned, left out in the cold. Of course, I'm hoping to show her a better way; I truly believe that with her intelligence, drive, and of course, her immense magical power, she will do great things for Equestria if she's given the opportunity.

Just like that? She was your enemy, now she's your friend.

Just like that. What else is there?

Nothing at all, in an ideal world.

Are you discussing Starlight Glimmer, Twilight's new student?

Sunset found herself sitting up a little straighter. Hello, Princess.

It is good to hear from you again, Sunset.

Yes, Princess, I'm sorry for my tardiness. Although Twilight explains that she might not have been in a position to receive my messages lately. What do you think of this new student of hers?

I am proud, and beyond proud, that Twilight has taken this step and started following in my footsteps.

You'll make me blush, Princess.

No concerns?

I trust Twilight's judgement; what concerns should I have?

Sunset smiled, for all that it could not be seen. None, I'm sure, Princess Celestia, none at all. Best of luck then, Twilight, I hope it goes well for you.

Me too. I'm sure that it will go great as soon as Starlight learns not to reach for magic whenever something frustrates her or stands in her way. But what about you? What was keeping you busy while I was battling to maintain the integrity of the timeline?

It worked. I saved Amber. She is awake, and Pyrrha is out to harm's way.

That is wonderful news! I'm sure that Luna will be thrilled to hear it once she wakes up.

I couldn't have done it without her instruction.

What's she like?

The frown returned to Sunset's face. As you might expect from someone who's been through what she has, she is frightened, uncertain, lost in an unfamiliar world.

She is fortunate, then, to have you to guide her, little Sunbeam, someone who has experience in finding this world strange and unfamiliar.

Sunset chuckled. I suppose so. In truth, she has taken to our whole team very easily, for which I am glad. She trusts me, and she is very fond of Pyrrha. She dislikes none of us and has given us all great tokens of her trust. And, as it turns out, she was — before all this — in love with a boy who found his way to Beacon, and we were able to reunite the two of them. Dove, that is his name, has been a balm to her in this time.

It sounds as if everything's going pretty great.

Oh, it is, believe me. There is a lot to like and a lot to be thankful for: Amber is awake, Pyrrha is not in danger of having her self destroyed, and we have even been chosen to compete in the Vytal Festival tournament.

Is that something prestigious, or merely something you look forward to?

Something very prestigious. The Vytal Festival is held every two years to celebrate the end of a great war — called the Great War, imaginatively enough — eighty years ago. It celebrates peace and friendship and harmony, I suppose, between the four kingdoms of Remnant, and the tournament between students of the four huntsman academies is the highlight.

Fighting to celebrate peace? Other than that, it doesn't sound half bad, but that feels out of place.

It's a display of prowess and one which shows the change in the world: instead of fighting to the death on battlefield, we fight to the cheers of the crowd in carefully controlled conditions.

I suppose that makes a degree of sense.

What else does this festival involve?

It involves the students from all the other academies coming here to Vale; there's already been theatre, parties; there'll be parades and more parties and a fairground, foreign food. And it will be fun. It will be a lot of fun which, quite frankly, we deserve. Considering it feels like we need a vacation to recover from the vacation that we've just had, a lot of fun is the least that we deserve.

Then I hope you enjoy it, Sunset, and all your friends too.

Thank you, Princess, we will certainly. If there is any fly in the ointment now, and it is but a small fly in the scheme of things, it lies, I fear, with Amber. She does not like Professor Ozpin. She is not alone in that — Pyrrha is none too fond of him either, now, and Jaune is the same.

As harsh as it may be, I can't really blame them for that, can you?

No, I confess, not after what he asked of Pyrrha. No matter how good his reasons, I cannot begrudge an instinctive distaste on her part, or from Jaune. But Amber is

Sunset paused, pondering.

They were close, once. I saw that in Amber's soul, in her memories, when I was saving her, they were Again, Sunset took pause as she considered how best to describe Professor Ozpin's relationship with Amber. They were almost as we were, Princess. Or perhaps, since they did not live together, I should say that they were as you and Princess Twilight are now: teacher and student and bound alike by ties of great affection. Except now, that tie is sundered and the affection turned to dust. Amber casts the blame for all her troubles, those that she has endured and those that surround her still, upon Professor Ozpin. I wish I could bring them back into affection, and yet, I see no way to do so.

Why?

Princess?

Why do you wish it?

Because

She stared at that word, 'because,' that had so much promise ahead of it like a young filly just about to set off into the world, without even her cutie mark discovered.

So much promised to be narrowed down by what came after.

Because I see myself in her, or at least in her relationship with Professor Ozpin, I see us. I think that, if Amber could reconcile with him, it would only be to her benefit, as it benefitted me to reconcile with you.

I am glad to hear it, but that reconciliation was not brought about by Twilight or by the external meddling of anyone else, but by a change in you that made you see things differently.

But Amber doesn't need to change.

Then neither does she need you attempting to force a reconciliation she does not desire; if you attempt it, you will only push her away. Do you believe that Professor Ozpin truly cares for her?

I do.

For what it is worth, I think you are correct in that. And, that being so, I believe that there will come a time when Amber realises that also, or perhaps it is better to say that she will remember it, having forgotten. But you cannot compel her to remember, you cannot force them to be to one another what they were, you could talk Amber's ears off upon Professor Ozpin's virtues, and all you would get for it would be a frustrated Amber less inclined to pay you mind.

You speak wisdom, Princess; indeed, that is why I did not harangue Pyrrha upon reconciling with her mother. I should do nothing, then?

It will come, or it will not, as Amber wills. You cannot bring it on; all you can do is be a friend, and a support to him, as they require.

Your advice makes me impatient, Princess Celestia, even as I recognise it is correct.

Patience is hard, but sometimes, a sad necessity. In the meantime, enjoy your festival with all its fun, and even enjoy your tournament, as baffling as it seems to us looking from the outside. Revel, I beg you, and be joyous while you can. I look forward to hearing all about it from you later.

And, as you say, you all deserve it.

Author's Note:

There will be no new chapters for a couple of weeks, as I have to prepare a presentation for a job interview.

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