SAPR

by Scipio Smith

At Large in Vale (New)

At Large in Vale

Lieutenant Martinez stepped out of the car almost before it had stopped moving, surveying the exterior of the warehouse. The fact that this was the place was obvious, not only because of the uniformed officers standing outside and the blue and white crime scene tape surrounding the area, but also, unfortunately, because of the reporters who were already starting to gather like carrion birds.

The uniforms were keeping them at bay and stoically refusing to answer any of the questions that were being thrown at them, but nevertheless, Martinez wasn’t particularly pleased to see them.

“Crap,” she growled. “How in the gods’ names did they find out about this?”

“Maybe someone in MIT tipped them off, boss?” Mallard suggested.

Martinez sighed. “Maybe,” she muttered as she started to push through the press pack. “Okay, move aside, make a hole, coming through.”

Shoving them out of her way — don’t worry; she didn’t push any of them off their feet or anything — felt good, but unfortunately, it had the downside that they recognised her voice, and the ones that didn’t recognised her face as soon as they turned around to look at her.

“Lieutenant Martinez!”

“Lieutenant, is the Flying Squad handling this investigation? Why?”

“Is this gang related?”

“The investigation has just begun; no comment at this time,” Martinez said, looking at no reporter in particular as she raised her voice enough to let it carry across the whole pack of them. She flashed her badge to the uniform sergeant as she ducked under the blue and white tape and strode towards the warehouse.

Mallard followed in her wake, walking quickly to catch up with her.

“Have we ID’d the victim yet?” Martinez asked as she walked through the open warehouse doors.

“Yes, El-Tee,” Mallard said. “Her name is Phoebe Kommenos; she was on television this afternoon.”

Martinez stopped. “The Vytal Tournament?”

“That’s right,” Mallard said. “Did you see it?”

“I watched most of it,” Martinez replied. “I don’t remember a Phoebe Kommenos.”

“Last fight of the day, boss,” Mallard explained. “Team Sapphire of Beacon against Team Pastel of Atlas. Our victim is — was — the leader of Team Pastel.”

“I didn’t watch the last couple of fights,” Martinez explained. “The kids were getting restless so I made dinner. Who won the fight?”

If Team Pastel had won, then that might be a possible motive, sore loser looking for payback and all that.

“Team Sapphire, from Beacon,” Mallard said. “That Sunset Shimmer girl who got caught in the bombings a while back.”

“Right,” Martinez murmured. “So our victim lost?”

Mallard nodded. “She didn’t take it very well.”

“Really?”

“Not at all,” Mallard said. “Tried to rush one of her opponents after the fight was over, made a spectacle of herself.”

“Hmm,” Martinez muttered. That kind of shot her possible motive out of the water; if you’d won a fight fair and square, why would you seek out the person you’d just beat in public and kill them?

Unless the victim picked another fight and died doing it.

But if it was self-defence, why not call it in?

I don’t know. It’s all just speculation at this stage anyway.

She walked into the warehouse, the morning sunlight disappearing into the shadows of the warehouse. The shadows were dispelled only by some lights set up to illuminate the body of a dead girl, lying sat up against the warehouse wall, slumped, with her head bowed.

She had a very nasty wound in her chest like she’d been impaled with something.

She probably had been.

Martinez stepped closer, taking in the victim: she was wearing her battledress, with armour on; she had come for a fight, or at the very least, she’d been prepared for one.

Beside the dead girl knelt the medical examiner, Doctor Fleur Badland; she was an elderly woman, with a round face with plenty of wrinkles on it and platinum blonde hair that she almost certainly dyed, although Martinez didn’t know for sure. She was wearing blue forensic overalls that covered her from neck to shoes, so that only her head and face were visible.

Fleur glanced up at Martinez and Mallard as they came in. “Lieutenant,” she said, “I wouldn’t have thought this was your usual beat.”

“MIT thought this stank, and they didn’t want to get the smell on their suits,” Martinez said. “Morning, Doc. I take it the cause of death is that wound on her chest.”

“It certainly doesn’t appear to be postmortem,” Fleur replied. “Although, of course, I won’t know for sure until I’ve completed my examination. Did you see her on television yesterday?”

“No,” Martinez said. “I’ve heard she got into it with the opposition after the fight was over.”

Fleur nodded. “She seemed very upset about something.” She paused. “You know, I knew a Vytal Tournament contestant once.”

Martinez took a deep breath. “The same way you’ve known everyone else?”

Fleur smiled. “He led his team to victory and then proclaimed his love for me from the middle of the arena. And then we went to a motel to celebrate with—”

“Yeah, I think I can guess,” Martinez said quickly. She gestured with one hand at the spear lying beside the victim, with blood on the tip. “Is that the murder weapon?”

“I would say so, yes,” Fleur agreed. “Although—”

“You’ll have to complete your examination to know for sure,” Martinez finished the sentence for her. “So what happened to him?”

“Him?”

“The huntsman who proclaimed his love for you from the centre of the arena.”

Fleur chuckled. “I like to taste wine, Lieutenant, but I could never live on just a single vintage for my whole life, no matter how excellent it was.”

“Mmm,” grunted Martinez, who had married her high school sweetheart. “What do we know about the victim? Besides that she was an Atlas student and she fought in the Vytal Tournament yesterday.”

“Twenty-one years old,” Mallard said. “Mistralian by birth. General Ironwood has been informed, and so has the Mistralian embassy; we’re hoping one or both of them can tell us more about her.”

At that moment, Martinez heard the soft hum of an airship’s engines close by — and getting closer. She could hear an indistinct noise from the reporters outside, even if she couldn’t make out quite what they were saying. It was enough to tell her that something was going on out there.

She turned towards the warehouse doors, still open, just in time to see General Ironwood leap from one of his military airships, which hadn’t landed — there wasn’t quite the space — but was hovering just above the ground, close enough for a safe drop.

So, he decided to come and check things out himself. That was kind of annoying, but at the same time, it was also … well, she couldn’t help but respect him for it a little bit.

General Ironwood strode into the warehouse, hands clasped behind his back. He didn’t pay Martinez, or Mallard, or anyone else any notice at all. His look, his attention, was fixed on the dead girl slumped against the wall.

His dead girl.

He walked towards her, ignoring everything and everyone else.

He knelt down beside the body.

“Gods,” General Ironwood murmured, and with one hand — his gloved hand — he reached out and closed her eyes.

He stayed kneeling down for a few seconds, fingers resting upon the face of the late Phoebe Kommenos; his head was bowed, almost like he was praying.

Perhaps he was praying; Martinez couldn’t say that he wasn’t a religious type.

General Ironwood rose to his feet, head still bowed; only when he had clasped his hands behind his back did he raise his head, at the same time as he turned to face Martinez.

“It’s Lieutenant, isn’t it?”

“Uh huh,” Martinez replied, taking a step forward. “Lieutenant Martinez, VPD Flying Squad.”

General Ironwood nodded. “She was too young for this.”

Martinez had seen younger, but she didn’t like the fact, and she wasn’t minded to disagree with the general’s sentiment. “I don’t suppose her next of kin are in town for the tournament?”

“She doesn’t have a next of kin,” General Ironwood said. “Her mother and sister died in a house fire during her first year at Atlas.”

“Father?” Martinez asked.

“Dead before she came to the Academy,” General Ironwood said. “I admit I’m not sure how. It wasn’t something she brought up.”

“Understandable,” Martinez murmured. “So no relatives, at all?”

General Ironwood shook his head. “She was the last of her family.”

“You say that like her family mattered,” Martinez said.

“I think it did, in Mistral,” General Ironwood answered. “A lot of our Mistralian students at Atlas come from what the Mistralians regard as good families. She was from one of those.”

“So she was rich?” Martinez asked.

“She never wanted for anything,” General Ironwood said, “although I never pried into her financials.”

“I don’t suppose you know who inherits, with no immediate relatives?” asked Martinez.

“I’m afraid you’ll probably need a Mistralian lawyer to answer that one for you,” General Ironwood said, “and they might need a genealogist, for all I know. All I can tell you is that she didn’t have any direct family. Of course, we try and make the Academy a home for all our students, but Kommenos … she didn’t want what she saw as pity.”

“What was she like?” Martinez asked.

“Talented,” General Ironwood said. “Not the best fighter, man to man, but a good leader, a good student, disciplined, hard working.”

“Any enemies?”

“No,” General Ironwood said at once. “Not that I know of, at least.”

“What about what happened in the tournament yesterday?” Martinez asked.

“That … Kommenos got carried away,” General Ironwood said.

“Hmm,” Martinez muttered.

She wouldn’t put it past the general to try and protect the reputation of his academy or his students, even if that meant letting a murder go unsolved. It was the way the world worked, in her opinion, especially when it came to so-called elite institutions. They closed ranks to protect themselves, and all the important and powerful people associated with them.

“I’ll need to talk to her teammates,” she said, hoping that they might be more honest with her than the general, or at least know more than he did.

“Of course,” said General Ironwood. “I can take you up to Beacon in my airship, if you’d like.”

“Thanks, General, just give me a minute,” Martinez said, turning away from him and beckoning for Mallard to come closer. “Get forensics down here, check the whole warehouse for anything that might come up. Then get ahold of the Mistralian police and ask them to send over everything they’ve got on the fire that killed Phoebe Kommenos’ mother and sister.”

“You think there’s a connection?” asked Mallard.

“Just because we don’t know who inherits doesn’t mean the person who inherits doesn’t know,” Martinez pointed out. “It’s worth a look, anyway; we don’t have that many leads that we can just ignore one. And check all the CCTV between her and the skydock. Phoebe came down here ready for a fight; maybe she didn’t come here alone.”

---

“So,” Blake said, “do you two have everything figured out for your fight today?”

Team YRBN walked into the dining hall, to be greeted by the smells of the breakfast buffet wafting through the air towards them over the heads of the students who were already present and seated.

Said students included Team SAPR, who were sat down on their habitual table with Penny, Amber, and Teams WWSR and BLBL; they also included Team RSPT, who were sat — minus Penny, obviously — on the other side of the hall, with many other Atlas students, including most of Team TTSS and Neon Katt.

It was a little strange to see Team RSPT not sat with Team SAPR, but Blake supposed that variation from time to time might be a good thing.

“What’s there to figure out?” Nora asked. “We’ll just hit ‘em hard and keep on hitting ‘em until we win, right, Yang?!”

“That’s pretty much our strategy, yeah,” Yang said.

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “I think you might find your opponents aren’t quite obliging enough to let it be that simple.”

“Well, obviously, that’s why I said that it’s ‘pretty much’ our strategy,” Yang said. “Obviously, I have an actual plan; what do you take me for?”

“A good team leader,” Blake said. “Perhaps the best team leader at this school. That’s why I thought it was weird that you seemed so blasé about this coming fight.”

“I guess it could have seemed that way,” Yang admitted, “but, in my defence, between me and Nora, we don’t have the speed or the agility to outmanoeuvre our opponents, and while we could try and fight from a distance, and we could do some damage that way, we probably couldn’t keep the distance open if our opponents wanted to close, and we’re better up close. So hitting hard as fast as we can and trying to keep the pressure up until we’ve smashed our way through probably is our best bet.”

Blake found that the logic of that, once expressed more fully, was rather inarguable. “True,” she said, “but even so, there’s room for some finesse.”

“And I will come up with some finesse, don’t worry,” Yang said. She paused. “What do you mean, I’m ‘perhaps’ the best team leader?”

Blake shrugged. “You and Sunset have different gifts; it makes it hard to make an absolute judgement between you.”

“Right,” Yang murmured as the four of them drifted across the dining hall towards the table where Team SAPR sat with Amber, Penny, and Team WWSR. “I’m not sure Sunset will be pleased to hear that either. Or Weiss, for that matter.”

Blake chuckled softly. “I’m sure I’ll survive their disapproval.”

“Hey, Blake!” the voice of Rainbow Dash intruded upon their discussion as the Atlesian team leader made her way across the cafeteria towards them, intercepting Blake and the rest of Team YRBN before they could reach the SAPR table. “Hey,” she said again, “can I borrow you for a second? Great, thanks.”

She wrapped one arm around Blake’s shoulders and began to steer her away, towards the table where Team RSPT — absent Penny — sat with TTSS and the various other Atlas students.

“Morning, by the way,” Rainbow said.

“Good morning,” Blake said. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing much,” Rainbow said. “It’s just that you should have breakfast with us this morning.”

Blake blinked. “Why?”

“Because you’re one of us, or you will be; in fact, you pretty much are already,” Rainbow explained, while not explaining anything. “And it’s important that we stand shoulder to shoulder today.”

Blake’s brow furrowed a little. “Is this … is this because Trixie and Starlight are facing Sunset and Pyrrha? Is that why you’re not having breakfast with Team Sapphire?”

“Yes, Blake, that is it exactly,” Rainbow agreed. “Trixie and Starlight need to know that we are on their side, and they need to know that you’re on their side, and you need to show that you’re on their side, the same as the rest of us.”

“Do they really care that much?”

“Have you met Trixie?”

“Yes, yes, I have, and underneath the performative persona, she had as good a sense of priority and duty as any huntsman,” Blake pointed out. “This is just a match in a tournament; it doesn’t really matter.”

“Maybe not, but that’s why we can — why we have to — do stuff like this,” Rainbow countered. “I mean, obviously, if there was a real fight going on between them, and Trixie and Starlight were wrong, then I’d be on the side of Team Sapphire, but this isn’t a real fight, and there is no right or wrong, and so, it’s our duty to support our fellow Atlesians, any way we can.”

“By eating with them?”

“Well, we’re not just eating with them,” Rainbow said. “We’re also helping them plan out their strategy, and since you know Team Sapphire as well as anyone who isn’t actually a part of Team Sapphire—”

“You want me to help them?” Blake asked. “Do you really think they can win?”

“I don’t know if they can,” Rainbow admitted. “But I know that we have to support them every step of the way until the fight is over, win or lose.”

“Hmm,” Blake murmured. “Penny’s over there with Team Sapphire,” she pointed out.

“Penny isn’t one of us,” Rainbow replied. “Or at least, she won’t be. She doesn’t want to be. She isn’t. It’s hard to say it right with these school transfers; you and Penny have made the leap, but it’s like you’re still stuck in mid-air, suspended until the year ends, and you can both move on to where we all know that you want to go.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Blake replied. “But at the same time, the way that you talk about Penny … it feels a little bit…”

“I guess,” Rainbow admitted. “But what I’m trying to say is that her real friends are from Beacon, she wants to go to Beacon, so she’s under no obligation to pretend that she isn’t rooting for Sunset and Pyrrha. She can even help them out with their battle plan, if she likes.”

“I’m not sure she knows enough about either Trixie or Starlight for that.”

“No,” Rainbow agreed. “But she could help, if she had any help to offer them.”

They reached what Blake now could not help but think of as the Atlas table, where she felt herself to be under the gaze of many Atlas students. Fortunately, most of those gazes were friendly, although she felt as though some — such as those coming from the members of Team SABR — were a little less so.

Trixie touched her fingers to the brow of her starry hat. “Blake.”

“Trixie, Starlight, Sunburst,” Blake greeted the members of Team TTSS, at least the ones who were there for her to greet. “Where’s Tempest?”

“Who knows?” Starlight asked.

“Who cares?” Trixie added.

“Trixie,” Starlight said in a tone of mild reproach.

“What?” Trixie asked.

Starlight shook her head. “Hey, Blake.”

“Morning,” Blake said, sitting down in an empty space between Starlight and Twilight. “How are you feeling about today?”

“The Grrrrrreat and Powerrrrrful Trrrrrixie is suprrrrremely confident!” Trixie proclaimed. “We’ve got this.”

“Really,” Blake said. “Then you don’t need any help then, do you?”

“No, wait, Trixie didn’t say that!” Trixie squawked, waving her hands frantically. “I mean, ahem, the Grrrrreeat and Powerrrrrful Trrrrrixie would of course welcome all advice that could possibly refine our already excellent battle strategy into an even more perfect form.”

“Although perhaps Blake should be allowed to get something to eat before we begin,” Twilight suggested.

“'We'?” Blake repeated, as she looked around the table. “You’re all—”

“Why not?” Neon asked. “Those Beacon kids are fine and all, but we all want to see Atlas win.”

“Fair enough, but don’t you have your own matches?” Blake asked. “You do.”

“Against some Vacuans, yeah,” Neon said. “We’re all agreed that Trixie and Starlight have the biggest obstacle in their path.”

“Is that so?” Blake asked. She looked again around the table, taking in Neon and her teammates, Rainbow Dash, Ciel, before focussing her attention upon the four members of Team SABR. “I know that we don’t know one another, but you’ll forgive me if I say that you’re being complacent; you should worry less about what Trixie and Starlight are up against in Sunset and Pyrrha and more about what you’re up against in Weiss and Flash.”

“Well, that’s us told, isn’t it?” said Sabine, the leader of Team SABR. “A Belladonna has spoken, and we must obey.”

Standing across from Blake, not quite having sat down at the table, Rainbow Dash drew in a deep breath and exhaled through her nostrils like a bull.

Blake kept her own voice very calm, or she endeavoured to, at least, and even thought that she’d managed it. “I don’t expect my name to carry any special weight, but I’d appreciate it if nobody sought to use it against me. I’m not my father, or my mother, and I’m not telling you anything; I’m just giving you some advice: Weiss won’t go down without a fight.”

Sabine opened her mouth, only to be cut off by Neon.

“Don’t,” she said. “Just … just don’t, okay.” Neon yawned, covering her mouth with one hand. “It is far, far too early in the morning for any of your crap, and it’s certainly too early in the morning to be starting fights with Blake. Come on, we all like Blake, right? Some of us like Blake a lot more than we like you.” She winked at Blake. “So let’s just save the fighting for the arena, yeah? Or at least until I’ve had my second coffee of the morning.” She grinned. “Especially since Old Blakey might have a point? If you want to take the Schnee heiress down a peg — and I know that Flynt would be one hundred percent on board with that—”

“One hundred and ten percent,” Flynt Coal said. He was a tall young man, with dark skin that was nevertheless a little lighter than Ciel’s, who kept his hair hidden beneath his grey fedora. “But just because I don’t like her doesn’t mean that she should be taken lightly; that was a good fight she had yesterday; she’s no pushover.”

Sabine hesitated for a moment, before she let out a sigh. “Fine, fine, I get it. But have some faith in us, why don’t you? Seriously. Ugh.”

“You want some help after we’re done helping Trixie and Starlight plan their way to victory?” asked Neon. “Flynt has enough brainpower for that, even if I don’t. In fact, weren’t you thinking about ways that you could take her out before the tournament started in case we got drawn against her?”

“Yeah, but they mainly relied on my semblance,” Flynt said. “I don’t know if Sabine or Team Sabre could do much with them.”

“We can see for ourselves if you tell us about them,” said Sabine.

“After us,” Starlight said.

“And after Blake has gotten something to eat,” Twilight reminded everyone.

Blake chuckled. “Yes, if no one has any objections.”

“We’ll be here when you get back,” said Sunburst.

“I’ll come with you,” Neon declared, stretching both her arms above her head. “I could use a little more myself.” She climbed over the table, jumping over Ciel’s head to land on the floor behind her, giving her a pat upon the beret as she landed. “Come on, Blake.”

“Um, right,” Blake said, getting up from her seat and following Neon across the dining hall — although she hardly needed showing the way — to where the various breakfast options, hot and cold, were on display.

Neon went to the coffee machine, grabbing a plain white cup from the cupboard and putting it under the metallic nozzle. The machine began to whirr and grind as Neon pushed the button to select a black Atlesiano.

“On the one hand,” she said, “I’m sorry about Sabine spitting at you like that; she had no right. You’re right: you’re not your mom, you’re not your dad, you’re one of us. You’re soon to be one of us, anyway, and you were trying to help. But don’t worry about Team Sabre too much; they’re just…”

Blake waited a moment for her to finish. “They’re just what?”

“Angry,” Neon said. “Their hearts are in the right place, but they’re angry. And they’re angry at people who aren’t angry.”

“Like my parents.”

“Like you, maybe,” Neon added. “And Dashie too. They got into it with her last night, when she asked them to … maybe not take their feelings out on Weiss.” The coffee machine went quiet, and Neon pulled her cup out from under the machine and immediately took a swig of the black, bitter-looking coffee.

She sighed contentedly. “Yep, I need this.”

“It sounds like your team leader could do with being told that as well,” Blake pointed out.

Neon took another sip from her coffee. “Look,” she said, “something you’re going to understand if you’re going to be one of us is that, strange as it may seem, the Schnee family is not universally popular in Atlas. It acts like it is, and I guess that Atlas itself acts like it is. But it isn’t.”

“Why not?” Blake asked. “I mean, I can understand why faunus like Team Sabre might resent the SDC, but Flynt—”

“Nobody gets to be as rich as Jacques Schnee without stepping on some people to get there, and it isn’t just faunus,” Neon told her. “Flynt’s dad used to own a dust shop in Mantle, until the SDC stopped selling to retailers so that everyone would have to buy from the SDC directly. Drove his old man out of business.”

“That’s … unfortunate,” Blake said. “Immoral, even. But that’s not Weiss’ fault.”

“No,” Neon admitted. “But Flynt can’t hurt Jacques Schnee, and neither can Sabine or the rest of Team Sabre.” She smiled. “But it’s only a tournament fight, right? It’s not like they’re going to lurk down a dark alleyway and attack the little princess meaning to do her any harm? They’re angry, but they’re not the White Fang. I mean, when you think about it, isn’t this a pretty good and harmless way of settling grudges? Like those Mistralian duels.”

“I … suppose, maybe,” Blake murmured.

It had, after all, worked for Sunset and Pyrrha; they had fought a duel to clear up the antagonism between them, and now, they were best friends, able to rely on one another absolutely. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but there seemed to be some … not magic, that seemed the wrong word to use with how much she knew about real magic, but some alchemy that made it work, in certain circumstances anyway.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

“Because you can be a bit of a self-righteous nagging scold sometimes,” Neon said. “I say this with lots of love, of course.”

“Of course,” Blake muttered dryly.

“And I would hate for you to get up on your high horse for no reason,” Neon went on. “Because, you know, not everyone would be as tolerant of that as me.”

“Mmmhmm, thanks a lot,” Blake said.

Neon grinned. “You’re welcome!”

Blake grabbed some breakfast — pancakes, with berries to cover them — and then, Neon having secured for herself a bacon muffin, they returned to the table, where everyone was still waiting for them.

“So,” Blake said as she sat down, very carefully not meeting the eyes of any member of Team SABR, “what’s the plan?”

Trixie had four salt and pepper shakers — two salt, two pepper — sitting on the table in front of her, and at Blake’s words, she started to push them across the table, separating the salt from the pepper.

“Sunset Shimmer and Pyrrha Nikos,” she said, indicating the two salt shakers. She gestured next at the two pepper shakers. “Starlight Glimmer and the Grrrreat and Powerrrrful—”

“We know,” Sabine grumbled.

“Trrrrrixie!” Trixie finished as though Sabine hadn’t said anything. “Now, Sunset can fight up close, but she’s more of a medium-range fighter; Pyrrha Nikos, of course, excels in close quarters.”

“She can shoot,” Blake pointed out.

“Sure, but given the choice, it seems like she prefers to close in with sword or spear,” Starlight said. “Especially since I don’t think she has many rounds in that rifle of hers.”

“It’s five,” Rainbow said. “At least, I think it is.”

Blake hesitated. It’s only a tournament. Only a play-fight, after all. “That’s right,” she said. “She has five rounds in there.”

Starlight nodded. “Like I said, close quarters.”

“So you’re going to try and keep your distance and fight at range?” Twilight asked.

“Would that work?” responded Starlight. “Pyrrha’s fast, and Sunset can teleport; if they want to close the distance, there isn’t a lot we can do about it.”

“And besides,” Sunburst said, “Starlight’s no slouch up close herself.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “You’re going to go close combat against Pyrrha?”

“If she wants a fight, then we’ll give her one,” Trixie declared. “Starlight will engage Pyrrha, while Trrrrrrixie deals with Sunset. Trrrrixie is something of a medium-range fighter herself, after all. Whichever of us defeats our opponent first will go to the aid of the other.”

Blake was silent for a moment. As a skeleton, it wasn’t a bad idea: matching up their specialities against their opponents, provided that they got more out of that than they would out of trying to support one another. Of course, if they did that, then Sunset and Pyrrha would be trying to support one another as well — especially since … Blake had a feeling that Sunset’s inclination might be to let Pyrrha shine on this one, to please Pyrrha’s mother and play to her standing with the crowd. She wouldn’t let Pyrrha fight alone, of course, but at the same time, if Sunset could step back, she probably would.

From a wholly disinterested perspective, it might be interesting to see the two of them fight together. It’s not something that ever happened when I was with them.

Not in the sense of real, supporting one another togetherness, at least, as opposed to just being in the same battle.

But, from an Atlesian perspective, from the perspective of wanting Trixie and Starlight to win…

Blake wasn’t entirely sure that she did, but she understood Rainbow’s point that she had to act as though she did, just to show willing.

From a perspective of wanting Trixie and Starlight to win … is splitting up, even to split their opponents, the best move for them?

“Sunset and Pyrrha,” Blake said softly, “have never fought … as a pair before. If your teamwork is good, you might find that splitting them up for one-on-one fights advantages them more than you.”

“But if you’re right,” Rainbow said, “then their instinct is going to be to split Trixie and Starlight off for a pair of one on one duels, so it would be best to prepare for that.”

“Not necessarily,” Blake replied. “Sunset is very invested in Pyrrha’s performance in the tournament, more than in her own ego—”

“If she was not invested somewhat in her own ego, then she could have sent Jaune through to the second round,” Ciel pointed out.

“Well … yes, you have a point there, I suppose,” Blake murmured. Put like that, the idea that Sunset would try and engineer a situation where Pyrrha took out both Starlight and Trixie began to look a lot less plausible. After all, why go through to the second round if she did not hope for at least some glory in her own right?

And besides, thinking about it, while Sunset was most effective at medium range, she’d demonstrated repeatedly that she was willing to try just about anything in a good cause, even engaging up close with enemies who were stronger than she was. There was no way that she would simply be content to hang back and engage at medium range if that meant allowing Starlight and Trixie to combine their efforts against Pyrrha, certainly not if that looked to be causing Pyrrha any sort of real difficulties.

“But do you think you can take them?” she asked. “One on one?”

Starlight’s lip curled upwards. “That’s what we’ll find out in the arena, isn’t it? I know her reputation, and I’ve seen her fight, but I’m not so bad myself. So we’ll see how it goes.”

“It would go better if you had a good semblance,” Sunburst said. “Something that would maybe give you an edge on Pyrrha in combat. Something that she wouldn’t see coming.”

“An excellent idea, Sunburst,” Trixie said, looking around the table. “Flynt, with your ability to copy yourself—”

“Now, hang on a second,” Flynt said, raising one hand. “I mean … I’m rooting for you and all, I want to see Atlas do well, but … it’s my semblance.” He looked away, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his face.

Rainbow frowned. “Ciel, with your precognition, Starlight could see Pyrrha’s moves before she makes them, give her a chance to respond to them.”

Ciel also looked away, unable to meet the eyes of either Starlight or Trixie. “I would rather not,” she said softly.

“Starlight’s only going to copy it, not cut it!” Trixie said, her voice rising even as Trixie herself surged to her feet.

“Trixie,” Starlight murmured. “It’s okay—”

“No, Starlight, it is not okay!” Trixie yelled. “I am sick and tired of you getting treated this way, and by Atlas students no less! We’re supposed to be a band of brothers!” She put one hand on her hip as she glared around the table. Flynt, Ciel, even Neon shrank away from her accusing gaze. “We’re supposed to stand shoulder to shoulder. Or is that only some words to be said when it’s convenient, huh?”

“You can have my speed,” Rainbow said. “Bull rush her the moment the fight starts and—”

“No,” Blake said, laying her hand out on the table. “Take my clones. You can dodge the hits, and if you use dust in conjunction with the clones — if you can work out how to do that — then you might even be able to use the clones to damage Pyrrha, or trap her.”

There was a moment of silence around the table.

Starlight smiled. It was a soft smile, close-mouthed, but a smile nonetheless. “Thanks Blake. I appreciate that. You too, Dash.”

Trixie inclined her head in Blake’s direction. “A true Atlesian indeed.”

Blake scoffed. “I don’t know about that. A kind person, maybe.”

“So … which is it going to be?” Twilight asked. “Rainbow’s speed or Blake’s clones? Or… you know, if you hang around, I’m sure that Applejack would let you copy her super strength.”

“I’m sure she would,” Starlight agreed. “But, having seen Blake’s semblance in action—” She started to move her hand towards Blake’s open palm. “Are you sure about this?”

Blake smiled. “It’s a use of your semblance, not invasive surgery.”

Starlight placed her hand on top of Blake’s. Starlight’s hand rippled with an opal light, just as Blake felt a little pinch on her palm, an ever-so-slight reduction of her aura.

Is that it?

“Thanks again,” Starlight said, taking her hand away. She held it up in front of her, as though the secrets of Blake’s semblance could be found written on her palm. “Wow, you’re pretty versatile, aren’t you?”

“It’s one of the most versatile semblances I’ve ever seen,” Sunburst said. “I’d say … second most versatile, after the Schnee semblance.”

“You … you really think so?” asked Blake.

“How many other people do you know that can modify their semblances with dust?” Sunburst asked. “Sunset Shimmer’s got a pretty versatile semblance, I suppose, but … I have a hard time getting a read on that.”

“Anyway,” Starlight said, “I’ve got Blake’s semblance now, so—”

“PYRRHA NIKOS!”

The eyes of all the students at the Atlas table turned towards the entrance to the dining hall as Lycus Silvermane, Thorn Hubert, and Mal Sapphire of Team PSTL strode in.

---

“Where’s Blake going?” Ruby asked as they watched Blake get steered away by Rainbow Dash to sit amongst the Atlesians.

“She’s showing solidarity with Atlas,” Sunset replied. “She’s showing that she’s rooting for Trixie and Starlight to beat us.” She bit into her blueberry muffin, chewing upon the crumbly, slightly dry cake for a second or two. “Like that’s going to happen.”

“Let’s not get overconfident,” Pyrrha murmured.

“You seem quite sure that’s why Blake is going over there,” Jaune pointed out.

“I lived in Atlas long enough to understand how their minds work,” Sunset replied.

“I lived there too, and I still don’t understand how their minds work,” Penny said.

Sunset snorted. “And you don’t want to, Penny; it’s very dull.”

“Rather a generalisation, wouldn’t you say?” asked Weiss.

“There are exceptions to every rule,” Sunset said blithely.

“Hey, guys,” Yang said as she led Ren and Nora over to the table presently being occupied by SAPR, their friends, and WWSR. “As you can see, we lost Blake on the way.”

“Sunset says she’s showing solidarity against us,” Ruby explained.

Yang frowned. “That’s … okay, that makes sense, but it also seems really rude.”

“Considering that they have supported us stalwartly in real battle, one can hardly take too much umbrage when they wish for a team from their own school to win the tournament match,” Pyrrha said.

“But isn’t part of the point of the Vytal Festival to be bigger than school ties?” asked Amber. “To not pit different schools against one another?”

“Competition will always pit people against one another; otherwise, it wouldn’t be competitive,” Sunset said. “And if they didn’t want the different schools to feel like they were in competition, they shouldn’t make an issue out of which schools the different teams come from; they just have a free selection of thirty two teams, regardless of what school they’re from.”

“But then some schools might not be well represented,” Ruby pointed out.

“Exactly, which is why it won’t happen,” said Sunset. “But Pyrrha’s right; it’s not a big deal. We’ve made friends with teams from Atlas, from Mistral … well, we’ve made friends with a member of a team from Mistral, anyway, but the point is that we’ve all lived up to the spirit of the Vytal Festival … most of the time.”

“You two are the first up today, huh?” Yang said. She grinned. “Nervous?”

“No,” Sunset said at once. “What have we…?” She trailed off. “No, I don’t want to insult them — they’re actually pretty good — but all the same, we’ve nothing to be nervous about.”

Yang looked over her shoulder. “Is the whole of Atlas Academy helping them plan out their strategy or something?”

There’s a joke to be made there, but I shall refrain and be the bigger person, Sunset thought.

“There’s no rule against seeking help from others,” Dove observed.

“Rainbow helped us plan out our strategy against Team Pastel,” Ruby pointed out. “I wonder what’s changed that it’s so important that they all be on the right side against Sunset and Pyrrha.”

“Perhaps they just didn’t like Team Pastel?” Lyra suggested. “Everyone likes Trixie and … everyone likes Trixie.”

“Do they?” Weiss asked softly. “No offence, but she strikes me as being a little bit of a…”

“Blowhard?” Flash asked.

Weiss hesitated for a moment. “Yes,” she murmured. “That word fits well enough.”

“Well … you’re not entirely wrong,” Flash admitted. “But in a strange way, that’s part of her charm. If she wasn’t going around calling herself Great and Powerful and referring to herself in the third person, then she wouldn’t be Trixie.”

“Fair enough, but I fail to see how that makes her more likeable,” Weiss said, “or even more bearable.”

“Her magic show is a lot of fun,” Lyra pointed out. “So that helps. Not to mention that she’s got a great singing voice.”

“And she’s got it when it counts,” Flash added. “Not singing, I mean; I’m talking about … she’ll have your back when it matters. She may not always act like it, but she’s someone to have by your side.”

“She even had Sunset’s back a little while ago,” Ruby said. “Didn’t she?”

Weiss looked at Sunset. “Really?”

“When was that?”

“Oh … a little while ago,” Sunset replied. “I was…”

“Is that when you bailed and nobody knew where you were?” Yang asked. “When Ozpin sent you on that solo mission?”

“It wasn’t quite a solo mission,” Sunset replied. “Trixie and Starlight were with me.”

“'Solo mission'?” Russel repeated. “Is that a thing?”

“Ozpin sent you out to fight by yourself?” Amber asked. “That sounds—”

“Worse than it really was, trust me,” Sunset said. “The point is,” she went on, keen to divert attention, or get things back on topic, depending on how you wanted to look at it, “that I’ve seen a little bit of Trixie and Starlight in action.”

“I don’t like Starlight’s semblance,” Ruby muttered.

Sunset glanced at her. “It’s just a semblance.”

“Nobody should have the power to affect other people’s semblances,” Ruby insisted.

“I can affect other people’s semblances,” pointed out Penny, plaintively.

“That … that’s not the same thing, Penny,” Ruby said quickly. “Your semblance … it lets you free yourself from what others are trying to do to you with their semblances, but it doesn’t stop those people from using their semblances in the first place. Starlight can stop people from using their own semblances, steal them for herself; nobody should have that kind of power. If semblances are the reflection of our souls, then what does a semblance like that say about her soul?”

“If that’s the case, then what does my semblance say about me?” Yang asked. “If you ask me, all that reflection of the soul stuff is just a bunch of … it’s old religious nonsense from the days when people believed there was a man in the sky causing thunderstorms. Our semblances are just random; they don’t say anything about us; we just have to learn how to make the best of them, just like Starlight has.”

“Some would agree,” Ren murmured, leaving the fact that others might not agree to be merely implicit.

“I’ve not seen anything malicious about Starlight,” Sunset said quietly, although as she said it, she couldn’t help but think about what Princess Twilight had told her, about the Starlight of Equestria who had tried to erase the Elements of Harmony from history.

But then, she repented and became Princess Twilight’s very own apprentice. Like as not, she will be Princess Starlight soon enough, and an alicorn — at least then, her power won’t seem to be too great for a mere unicorn.

The point being that, in my world, although she may have gotten off to a rough start, she has turned out to have a good heart in the end, as judged by Princess Twilight and Princess Celestia. Who is to say that in Remnant, she didn’t simply skip the rough start and have a good heart all along?

Though there is no princess to judge her here, there are many who have a great respect for her, whose opinions I also respect after a fashion.

Not least of which being my own opinion.

The people here share names with folk who live on the other side of the mirror, but they are not mere mirror images; Starlight is not fated to walk the same path as her other self who shares her name.

“I have seen no malice in her,” Sunset repeated. “She is … stalwart, and so is Trixie when it comes down to it … just as Flash says. I don’t underestimate them.” She grinned. “Of course, we’re going to beat them, all the same.”

“Does that mean you have a plan?”

Sunset shrugged her shoulders somewhat. “A plan? Last time, when we — I — tried to get inside the heads of her opponent, I got it wrong.”

“It sounds as though you know Starlight and Trixie a little better than you knew Team Pastel though, right?”

“Perhaps,” Sunset conceded. “I think … I think…”

What do I think?

What are you going to do, you two?

"I think," Sunset said, "that perhaps we should think less of what Starlight and Trixie will do and more of what we will do: together, they are a formidable team, but if I distract Trixie, then Starlight will be no match for you in combat. Defeat her, and Trixie will fall before our combined might."

"Assuming you haven't beaten her already yourself," Pyrrha replied.

"I'll certainly try my best," Sunset said, "but by setting low expectations, I protect myself against accusations of underperformance if things don't go entirely my way." She smirked. "But in all seriousness…" In all seriousness, Trixie bested Evenfall Gleaming, one of the strongest unicorns of ancient times. A unicorn far stronger than myself, possessed as she was with the power not only of unicorns but of pegasi and earth ponies too.

The memory made Sunset think of the bag beneath her bed, of Evenfall's dark regalia stored in a sack, unused and little thought of. Sunset had, in fact, thought of giving them to Amber, to better arm her against the threat of Salem's minions. She had not done so partly because she wasn't sure that it would actually be possible for Amber to harness Equestrian magic, not having been born a pony — although, against that, it had to be admitted that Evenfall had not been born a pegasus or an earth pony but had taken to their magics just fine — partly because even if Amber could use the powers in theory, where she would be going, there wouldn't be anyone around to teach her how to use them properly, and partly … partly because Sunset was concerned about the side effects. Yes, Evenfall had hardly been a model of gentleness and moderation before she had fashioned her dark regalia, according to Princess Celestia's account, but all the same … nothing would come for nothing, as far as dark magic was concerned. It promised power greater than birth or station had imbued one with, but in return … in return, it would make use of any who sought to make use of it.

She did not want that for Amber. It was not something she would gift to her for the sake of a greater security that was, not to put too fine a point on it, somewhat dubious in the circumstances.

And in any case, all that was little to do with the matter at hand.

"In all seriousness," Sunset repeated, "I do not underestimate her. They might try and stick together for greater protection, but Pyrrha and I should be able to outmanoeuvre them. That's the basis of it, anyway." She looked from Yang to Weiss and back again. "What about you two? How are you feeling about today's fights?"

"It seems," Weiss began, only to pause for a moment. She looked at Flash. "It seems, if Rainbow Dash is to be believed — and I don't see why not — that we should expect some hostility from our opponents."

"Because—" Flash began.

"Yes," Weiss said, in a brittle voice like thin ice cracking as people walked upon it. "Because of the recently exposed activities of the company which shares my name."

"It's so stupid how people can't see past things like your name," Ruby declared. "As though that had anything to do with you. It's no better than the way people look at the faunus."

"Names have power," Pyrrha said softly. "Over us, and over others as well. That cannot be escaped, no matter how much we might want it to."

"I'm not sure I would," Weiss replied. "I … my name is not the whole of me, but it is part of me nevertheless. A part that, though I do not own the whole of my name and its attendant reputation, is nevertheless fused inseparably from my own. Take away Schnee, and … and you tear up Weiss as well. Without my name, and all that my name means, I would not be myself. Though it brings me some hostility, that struggle, too, is mine to bear, mine to fight against, mine to overcome. I would not give it up, nor trade it away for all the wealth in Remnant."

"Is that not because you already have all the wealth in Remnant?" Sunset asked.

Weiss snorted. "Well … perhaps I could have made a better choice of words there."

"It's because sometimes our pain is what makes us stronger," Ruby said. "It gives us a reason to keep moving forward."

Cinder would have something to say about that, if she could hear it, Sunset thought. Instead of saying that, though, she asked, "Did anyone watch Team Sabre's fight yesterday?"

"No," Flash admitted. "That seems like an oversight now."

"I didn't," Yang added.

"Me neither," said Nora.

"Nor I," Weiss said quietly. "We are … somewhat in the dark."

"Don't worry about it too much," Yang said. "Nora and me are just the same; we didn't bother to watch Team Ball yesterday either."

"You face two of the children of Titus Andronicus, a Mistralian huntsman of great renown in his day," Pyrrha said. "In fact, the family itself has — or had — great repute."

"Oh, well, Pyrrha can come to our rescue, at least," Yang said, with a slight grin. "Bad luck, Weiss."

Weiss made a wordless muttering noise that could have meant many things.

"Are they a noble family?" asked Jaune.

"Not noble, no," Pyrrha replied. "A middle-ranking family, not unknown before Titus, but of no great antiquity either." She paused. "It is a rather sad story. Titus Andronicus was one of the greatest huntsmen of his day, a slayer of grimm, a champion of justice; wherever he went, it was said, darkness retreated from him. But of his twenty-five sons—"

"'Twenty-five'?" Jaune exclaimed. "Twenty … he had twenty-five kids?"

"Twenty-six children," Pyrrha corrected him. "Twenty-five sons and one daughter."

Jaune stared at her, eyes so wide that they might have been about to pop out of his head. "Twenty-six … and I thought my mom was heroic."

"Sounds like a regular clan of heroes," Yang said.

"Assuming that they all became huntsmen," Penny said. "They might not have. They might have wanted to be … something else. Anything else."

"But they did not, and therein lies the sadness of it," Pyrrha said. "Twenty-five sons, and twenty-one of them have perished in the field, against grimm or bandits. Little has been heard of Titus Andronicus these recent years. Some say that grief has maddened him, others that he broods upon it; either way, he does not stir abroad."

A moment of silence followed her words; it dropped upon the table like … like the shroud of one of the dead sons of Titus Andronicus.

Twenty-one sons, dead. Twenty-one, and not in some old story, no, this had happened … in the last few years, within their lifetimes. These were people who had been living when they were living, but now drew breath no more.

Twenty-one sons, that … well, that was very bad luck indeed for their father, but also … that could not be normal, could it? It could not be normal for so many huntsmen to die?

Or was it so, and they simply hadn't realised it?

Twenty-one sons, dead. Well might their father go mad with grief. Fewer losses might be the undoing of Lady Nikos; a single daughter's death might make Lady Belladonna weep.

Sunset looked — surreptitiously, she hoped — around the table. No one here had twenty-one siblings, still less twenty-five, that such great losses might be borne by their parents with anything approaching equanimity. And yet, at such a rate of loss…

How many of us will die, and how swiftly?

I will not allow it.

Have I power to prevent it?

Sunset felt her hands clench into fists — and then she felt two hands around her right, clenched fist.

Amber's hands.

Amber smiled as she looked into Sunset's eyes. "It will be alright," she said, giving Sunset's hands a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "It will all be alright. That is not the fate that awaits you."

How can you be so certain? Sunset wanted to ask, but the words stuck in her throat. They stuck in her throat, and then dissolved because, as she looked back into Amber's eyes, it was clear that the answer was because Amber was a Maiden, and it was a Maiden's part to bring hope, just as they had brought hope to the old man, the wizard, back in ancient times.

Sunset could feel Amber's hands through her gloves, she could feel the warmth of them, a warmth that was spreading down her arm and across her body, rippling out to warm the whole of her and melt away all the ice of fear.

Amber was right; that need not be their fate. It would not. She would not stand for — would not permit — so empty a table.

It would be alright. She would not suffer such ill-fortune.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Amber nodded. "Although," she said, "after losing so many of their brothers, I'm surprised that the two siblings that Yang and Nora will be fighting still want to be huntsmen."

"It's because they're brave, and they understand what's at stake," Ruby said, "and I guess that it's a way of honouring their fallen brothers, too."

Yang sighed. "I gotta say, Pyrrha, I wish you hadn't told us all that. It makes it a little harder to beat them."

"I'm sure that neither of them would wish for pity, or for you to give anything less than your best," said Pyrrha.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure not," Yang agreed. "Do you know anything about how they fight? Did you ever come up against either of them in a tournament?"

"No," Pyrrha said, with a shake of her head, "the Andronici are true huntsmen; they have never been involved with the tournament circuit. Nevertheless, I believe that they favour traditional weapons."

“You mean no transformations?” asked Nora.

“I mean that, as I understand it, the family mainly use — or used — ancestral weapons, passed down to them by their predecessors.”

“Well, that’s not good,” Ruby said. “For them, I mean. If you don’t have a weapon that’s yours, that’s made for you, that’s a part of you, then … how are you going to use it properly?”

“I…” Jaune trailed off. “Think you make a good point.”

“I use Soteria reasonably enough,” Sunset pointed out.

“Eeh, you’re not that great with it, are you?” Ruby replied. “You’re not on the same level as Blake or Weiss.”

“Well, okay,” Sunset conceded. “But all the same—”

“PYRRHA NIKOS!”

All eyes turned towards the entrance to the dining hall as three members of Team PSTL strode in. Phoebe wasn’t with them, and at the head of the trio stood Lycus Silvermane, dressed for battle, muscles bulging.

A group of Atlas students, none of whom Sunset could put names to, followed after him. Thorn and Mal both had hands upon his arms, but he shrugged them both off as his eyes swept over the cafeteria.

It didn’t take him long to catch sight of Pyrrha.

“PYRRHA NIKOS!” he roared again, like a bull in the field beholding a rival. He marched towards her, devouring the distance beneath his quick strides. His footsteps upon the floor were heavy as the beating of a drum. “GET UP!”

Pyrrha rose slowly to her feet. Sunset got up as well, more quickly than Pyrrha; Jaune rose also, while Yang and Ruby both rested their hands upon the table so that they could get up if they had to. Amber shrank into Dove’s shoulder.

All eyes, not just on their table but on other tables also, were fixed on Lycus as he, heedless of the comrades who sought to restrain him or of the other students who trailed after him, bored down upon them.

Sunset barred his way to Pyrrha, saying nothing but letting the stern look upon her face speak for her. She didn’t know what he wanted, but you didn’t march into a room bellowing somebody’s name if you wanted a nice cosy chat, so no, he wasn’t getting too close to Pyrrha.

Lycus looked down on her, baring his teeth at her. “You,” he snarled.

“Good morning,” Sunset said. “Can we help you?”

Lycus breathed in and out heavily, his chest rising and falling, his exhalations forcing their way out between his gritted teeth. His gaze, as sharp as the sickles that he wielded in battle, flickered like swift slashing strokes between Sunset and Pyrrha.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?” Pyrrha asked softly.

Lycus’ face twitched with irritation. “Don’t act like you don’t know!”

“Lycus,” Mal murmured. “They probably don’t; why would they—?”

“They must know!” Lycus snapped at her. “Who else would … who else would want to … it wasn’t enough for you to humiliate her, you had to kill her too?”

“'Kill her'?” Jaune repeated. “Kill—”

“Phoebe?” Pyrrha whispered. “Phoebe is—?”

“She’s dead!” Lycus yelled, in a voice that struck the high ceiling of the dining hall. “Phoebe is dead! Murdered!”

Sunset’s eyes widened in spite of herself. Phoebe … Phoebe was dead? Phoebe had been murdered?

Cinder.

Sunset had no proof. She didn’t know how Phoebe had been killed, or when, or where, but she almost didn’t have to. She knew in her bones, in her soul, that Cinder had been the one to do this. Who else would? Pyrrha would not stoop so low; why would she? She had won the fight, and anyway, it wasn’t in her nature.

I would not stoop so low either, not even when my back was more flexible than it is now.

But Cinder…

Cinder had the motive, without doubt. If anyone deserved to kill Phoebe Kommenos, it was Cinder, the stepsister she had abused and humiliated. Such had been what Phoebe had done to Cinder that it was very hard to weep for her. Sunset was more concerned about how Cinder had done this. It was hardly likely that Phoebe had ventured beyond Vale, which meant that Cinder must have come to her, at least in some fashion.

“Where?” she demanded. “When?”

“As if you don’t know,” Lycus spat.

“We do not,” Pyrrha said, beginning to walk around Sunset to get closer to Lycus. “We knew nothing of this until you arrived, I swear it by sea and sky and on my sacred honour.”

Lycus’ face twitched again. “Your honour?” he repeated. “Your honour?”

“We have witnesses that will put us here all night,” Sunset added.

“Of course you do,” Lycus snarled, his lips curling into a sneer. “Your friends will alibi you.”

“So we are killers, and they are liars?” Sunset demanded. “What grounds do you have for any of this?”

“I think that many of us would like to know that,” the voice that spoke was a smooth one, belonging to Medea of Team JAMM as she drifted over in their direction. Nor was she alone; just as several Atlesian students had followed in Lycus’ train, so did Medea bring with her a coterie of Haven students, not only her own teammates, but Team ABRN too, and Sun, Neptune, and others besides.

“That is a serious accusation to shout where so many ears can hear,” Medea went on, raising her own voice somewhat so that it carried across the dining hall, “serious when made against anyone, but especially serious when directed against a former Champion of Mistral. Such accusations should be brought before the magistrate, with witnesses and evidence … unless your purpose is to provoke a duel in defence of insulted honour?”

“It’s really not,” Mal said quickly. “He’s just…”

“Please, forgive him,” Thorn added. “We just found out that our team leader was dead, and Lycus is—”

“I don’t need the two of you to talk for me!” Lycus yelled, tossing his head as he once again cast off their arms. “I need…” He bowed his head, and his white mane falling over his face, and his next words were half-choked as if by a sob. “I need justice.”

“And I pray you find it,” Pyrrha said softly, “but you will not find it here, not with us. I promise you.” She paused, and when Sunset glanced at her, she saw that Pyrrha was looking down anxiously. She reached out and put her hand in Jaune’s, letting his fingers close around her. With her other hand, she played with her sash. “I…” she began, but then stopped and trailed off once again. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, Sunset could see nought but misery upon her face, her mouth set downwards.

“I…” she began, but then trailed off again. “I know that Phoebe and I … instead of what happened at the end of the match yesterday, I prefer to remember that she came to me on the eve of my duel with Cinder and … offered to let all be bygones between us. She kissed my cheeks and offered me her hand in friendship. That … that is the Phoebe that I prefer to remember.”

A Phoebe that never really existed? A Phoebe who was lying? A Phoebe who was secretly rejoicing because she thought that you might die?

A Phoebe who is of more use in this situation than the real one.

Sunset had hated Phoebe’s visit to Pyrrha, had hated the whole circus surrounding it, all those insincere people beating a path of Pyrrha’s door to do the ritual thing, the expected thing, the thing that would make them look good, that would make them esteemed in the eyes of their peers. She had hated all of it, the insincerity, the performativity of it, the fact that they didn’t really care whether or not Pyrrha lived or died — that some of them, like Phoebe, were actively hoping for Pyrrha’s death.

Now, Pyrrha was playing the same game. Did the fact that she clearly wasn’t enjoying it make it any less insincere?

No, but it was perhaps more understandable in the circumstances.

“You have my condolences,” Pyrrha said, to the members of Team PSTL. “If there is anything that I can do for you … please, you have but to ask. I am at your service.”

“We are all at your service, within the bounds of good conduct,” Medea added. “Let us all remember gentle Phoebe, to each of us the soul of courtesy while she lived.”

Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth, would it? Sunset thought.

“Th-thank you,” Mal murmured. “We are … thank you.”

Lycus did not reply. He stood with his head bowed, his body trembling.

“I … she …” he began. “My lady.”

Jaune’s brow furrowed a little. “You—”

“I spoke out of turn; I was angry,” Lycus declared, his voice hoarse. “I shouldn’t have … I’m sorry, I just … forgive me.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said. “No … of course.”

Lycus didn’t look up. He remained where he was, head down, face concealed beneath his hair. Then he turned away and strode away as swiftly, and almost as violently, as he had come, forcing the Atlas students to scramble aside lest he trample them down beneath his booted feet.

Thorn followed after him, but Mal hesitated for a moment. “It was … they told us it was in Vale, last night. During the carnival.” She, too, hurried after Lycus.

Sunset turned her back on him, looking towards Pyrrha.

Pyrrha looked at her, and Sunset could see her thoughts mirrored in the gravity of Pyrrha’s expression.

Cinder. Cinder in Vale.

Sunset and Pyrrha both looked towards Amber.

Amber swallowed. “What … what is it? Why are you both looking at me like that?”

Professor Ozpin needs to know. He needs to know that Cinder is at large in Vale, or was last night, at least. He needs to know … even if that means that he must know why Cinder would be so eager to strike down Phoebe Kommenos.

I’m sorry, Cinder, I really am, but you leave me no choice.

With you in Vale … I have prized your confidence above much, but I cannot prize it above Amber’s safety.

I am sorry.

You brought this on yourself.

The fact that that was undoubtedly true didn’t actually make Sunset feel any better, but at the same time, she had had far worse things to feel worse about lately.

“Excuse me,” she said as she started to walk out of the cafeteria.

“Wait,” Amber called out. “Where are you going?”

“To speak to Professor Ozpin,” Sunset said.

Comments

[Stet709]

I'm glad we're getting strategies of both sides just like last time so we're not completely surprised, just the characters.

“How many other people do you know that can modify their semblances with dust?” Sunburst asked. “Sunset Shimmer’s got a pretty versatile semblance, I suppose, but … I have a hard time getting a read on that.”

And it's likely you never will, Sunburst. But there are others at the Atlesian gathering that are fully aware of the nature of Sunset's "semblance", i.e. Blake, the three present members of Rosepetal., and I'm not 100% certain, but I think maybe Starlight and Trixie too after Arcadia Lake.

[Kiue Jin]

It's sad. Lycus may have been the only person who truly cared about Phoebe. In fact, I believe he might have loved her. Surprisingly, if Phoebe wasn't so... well, Phoebe, she could have admitted to herself that she cared/loved him back. Even a monster can have people who care about them...

That being said, I believe Phoebe deserves a tribute worthy of her.

[Sovks]

I'm glad Phoebe is dead but I cannot help but think about the maybes, about how even after everything she had someone who cared... maybe things could've been different, but alas she was a horrible person, driven with revenge, entitled by loss and a pathetic girl who blamed the world and everyone for her own failures.

[Luviere]

Oh no. Pheobe died!
Alexa, play Despacito