Comfort (New)
Comfort
“Talk to me, Councillor,” Sunset said, as she helped Councillor Emerald move down the dark corridor away from the command centre. She was taking him — helping him, if you preferred — towards the elevator, back the way that they had come. With good fortune … no, not with good fortune; it was the way that it was going to be, the way that it had to be; with Sonata dead, the spell would be broken — some spells could sustain themselves after the death of the one who cast them, simple transfigurations, spells applied as part of potion-making, that sort of thing; not mind control, or even emotional alteration in its milder form — and everyone that Sonata had charmed with the magic of her Siren voice would come to their senses. They might be confused or disoriented; they might wonder what they had done, they might even be suffering from memory loss — a blessing for some, in the circumstances – but they would not start shooting at Sunset and Councillor Emerald.
They would have no cause to do so now. Unless they decided to shoot an intruder on sight, but even then, the First Councillor could hardly be called an intruder in an official Valish government building, could he?
Not now that the soldiers who might have sought to keep him out were free, however discomfiting that freedom might be to them.
Discomfiting or not, discomfiting to a great or small degree, surely, it was preferable to slavery?
It was preferable, with no 'surely' about it. That was what Cinder had understood, even in the throes of Sonata’s enchantment herself, and that which had given herself the will to fight back and, in so doing, free everyone else from the Siren song.
Huh. Hadn’t thought about it quite like that before. She might not have intended it, Sunset was absolutely certain that she had not intended it, but nevertheless, Cinder had saved everyone by killing Sonata.
She was a much bigger hero tonight than Sunset, and depending on what Pyrrha and Rainbow Dash and the rest were doing, she might be the biggest hero of the night so far.
It would have brought a smile to Sunset’s face, and a chuckle too, under less serious circumstances. As it was, she could not help but wonder if Cinder realised, and what she made or would make of it if she did.
She could not dwell on such thoughts, however; if she spent too long in her own head amongst such imaginings, then she would become lost in them for good, and that wouldn’t do, not now. Not when she had Councillor Emerald to take care of.
Their steps were slow; certainly, they were slower than they had been on their way down here; Sunset’s lack of aura and the Councillor’s gunshot wound were slowing them down. But they would get there, they would get there in the end, provided that Councillor Emerald could hold on until then. He wasn’t in any state to ride on Sunset’s bike, and she wasn’t in the mood to trust any Valish Defence Force troops to drive her, even if they had all been freed from Sonata’s control, but there were the Atlesians up in the courtyard too, and they had airships; assuming that they hadn’t both been destroyed in the battle, she could get one of them to give them a ride to the nearest hospital.
Councillor Emerald just had to hold on until then. She’d staunched the bleeding, so he wasn’t going to bleed to death, but … first aid didn’t get the attention at Beacon that it probably should, let alone anything more advanced than that. Aura could make huntsmen a bit complacent, especially when you had Jaune on your team. All of which was to say that Sunset didn’t know exactly how bad it was that Councillor Emerald had a bullet in him other than that it was bad.
It was bad, but hopefully, he could pull through. He had to pull through.
Was he going to pass out? Sunset didn’t know, but she was afraid he might. You could pass out from the pain, after all; she’d done it herself, which didn’t make it a good thing. That was why she had to keep him talking, keep him thinking, not allow him to just slip away from her.
“Talk to me, Councillor, come on,” Sunset repeated. “Please, just … tell me about that toy that you brought for Bramble, tell me about that Amity Colosseum, that sounds pretty cool.”
Councillor Emerald made a sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a snort. “It had better be, the lien I paid for it.”
“How many lien?” Sunset asked.
“I’m almost embarrassed to say.”
“Don’t be like that, Councillor,” Sunset said. “Isn’t any amount of money worth it if it makes your son smile?”
“What a twee sentiment.”
Sunset laughed. “Well … yes, and from my lips, I admit it may sound a little … insincere, but believe me, there are people who could make it sound incredibly earnest and undeniably true. Although, to be frank, I should tell you that those same people would probably also say that money can’t buy happiness, and you’d believe that too.” She stopped, because the Councillor was supposed to be talking, not her.
Except that Councillor Emerald declined to talk. Sunset turned her head, fearing that he might have lost consciousness, but found that no, he was awake, his eyes were open, albeit looking down at the ground, and he was still breathing.
“Councillor,” Sunset prompted him. “I know that we didn’t exactly get off to the best start, but I’d hope that we’ve been through enough tonight that you can share with me the embarrassing amount of money you spent on a toy. Think of it … think of it as a show of your devotion to Bramble.”
Councillor Emerald glanced at her, a slight touch of incredulity in his green eyes.
“It is a yardstick, no?” Sunset asked.
Councillor Emerald drew in a breath, wincing as he did so. "Four hundred lien," he said.
Sunset's eyebrows rose. "'Four hundred lien'? That is … admittedly, a lot for a toy, but not as much as your hemming and hawing and your embarrassment led me to expect."
"It's enough, don't you think?" Councillor Emerald asked.
"It will be," Sunset replied. "If he likes it."
Councillor Emerald made another sort of snorting sound. "He'd better," he muttered. He paused, breathing deeply in and out, and as he breathed, he made a squeaky wheezing sound. "He's been so excited about this. This last month it's been, all that he can talk about. Perhaps all that he can, think about. Getting him to do his, homework, was a trial." He paused. "Albeit, a trial for Mrs. Hughes, more than myself." Another pause. "My wife," he said. "She told me once that, she was never worried about me having affairs, but that politics itself was a, formidable rival, indeed. I haven't been what you might call a, present father. Not as much as I…"
Sunset didn't know what the Councillor had meant to say next. Not as much as he should have? Or not as much as he had wanted to? "Councillor?"
"I haven't always been there," Councillor Emerald said. "I suppose expensive gifts are, no substitute, but—"
"But that doesn't mean they don't mean anything," Sunset told him. "I was raised by someone who had the weight of the community upon her shoulders, urgent matters requiring her attention, often very busy. And while the gifts, the fine quality gifts, the probably expensive gifts … while they were never as valuable to me as the actual time that we spent together, the fact that she knew me well enough to know that I'd like them, the fact that she cared enough to go to the trouble … that meant something too, and I was very appreciative."
"Was this," Councillor Emerald murmured, "in Equestria?"
Sunset was silent for a moment. "You, uh … you heard that, huh?"
"I'm not unfamiliar with the word," Councillor Emerald said. "But that girl seemed to be putting it to some uses with which I am unfamiliar. You're like her, aren't you? A magical creature?"
"Not exactly," Sunset replied. "I can't sing a song and make everyone love me." She chuckled darkly. "If I could do that, my life would have been infinitely easier — and infinitely poorer besides, not that I'd have realised that. But … yes, Councillor, I am a creature of magic. What you — what the world — took to be my very versatile semblance is actually magical power."
"Extraordinary," Councillor Emerald murmured. "So … if you are not a Siren, then—"
"A unicorn," Sunset said. "I am a unicorn."
Councillor Emerald paused. "You seem to be missing a couple of legs. And a horn."
"There are places, Councillor, where I have both," Sunset replied.
"In Equestria?" said Councillor Emerald.
"Yes, Councillor, in Equestria," Sunset replied. "A place where, I am not afraid to say, ordinary human eyes cannot go."
"You make it sound like a fairyland," Councillor Emerald said. "Like the Ever After."
"That's not the worst comparison," Sunset told him. "And who knows? Maybe the Ever After is real, maybe there's a Goblin Market in the sewers under Vale, maybe the fair folk dance in the forgotten places of the Forever Fall and if you listen closely you can hear their music, as Percy and Tristan did. Who's to say otherwise?"
"People who have been there and hear nothing?" suggested Councillor Emerald.
"Ah, but you see, they don't really want to be heard," Sunset said. "Or maybe not. Maybe you're right. All I can say is that, however much it may sound like a fairytale, I come from a place like the Ever After, except a little different, and so is … so was Sonata."
Equestria was not quite like the Ever After which, more than Alyx herself, was the real star of The Girl Who Fell Through the World, but — unless you wanted to make a stand on Equestria being real and the Ever After not — they were not so different that Sunset felt as though she were lying to Councillor Emerald. She was, perhaps, misdirecting him a little bit, encouraging him to think that Equestria was somewhere he could never reach so there was no point in looking, but that wasn't something that touched her conscience. Councillor Emerald was a good man, and a man who wanted the best for his people, but he wasn't a close friend to her, and she didn't trust him in quite the same way that she trusted Professor Ozpin, so shading the truth in some minor aspects wasn't something that she felt guilty about.
"I … see," Councillor Emerald said softly. "May I ask … who else knows about this?"
"My closest friends," Sunset said. "And Professor Ozpin."
"Ozpin," Councillor Emerald. "I suppose, I can understand why you wouldn't want to shout about it. We are not … always the most welcoming people."
Sunset didn't reply to that. Councillor Emerald didn't need her to tell him that he was correct on that score. Even a faunus in his position, exalted as it was, even someone who had risen to occupy the highest office in the land had probably dealt with some discrimination on his way up, even if he didn't want to make a big issue of it.
He was probably still dealing with it. Now that the subject had been raised, Sunset couldn't help but wonder if his faunusness might be a hindrance to Councillor Emerald in attempting to manage the situation that he had been handed in the days to come.
"Can I … can I ask you something that may seem a little personal, or impertinent, Councillor?" asked Sunset.
"You intrigue me enough that I have to say yes," Councillor Emerald replied.
"Does it worry you that…" — Sunset hesitated for a moment — "that your position tomorrow will be in greater danger because you're a faunus?"
Councillor Emerald took a moment before he replied, either thinking or catching his breath or both together. "It has, crossed my mind," he admitted. "When I took office, there were those who … confined to social media, thank goodness, anonymous and bilious and spewing hate, said I was in league with the White Fang, that I was their agent, that I'd hand control of Vale over to my 'mates.' Appalling stuff, but thankfully nobody, dared to say anything, like that aloud. I hoped that, it would all go away, with time, and with results. But now … I'm afraid they'll be back, and their voices, will be louder than before." He closed his eyes for a moment. "But, if I am thrown out over this, we must remember that, poor old Novo was defenestrated, despite being a human, so you know, it isn't really, about race, it's about democracy. The people do not have, much patience, with leaders who, they think are floundering. But I will not resign. I have no reason to resign. I shall battle on, and hope that, from this crisis, emerges a new spirit, of Valish unity. I hope that people will, rally round the flag, and the Council." He groaned. "If I survive."
"You're going to survive Councillor, you're absolutely going to survive, I guarantee it," Sunset insisted. "I promise it, just like I promised Bramble that I'd keep you safe. Don't think about any other outcome, don't worry that you haven't made a will or said goodbye or anything like that, just remember that I'm going to get you help. Think about Bramble, think about how you're going to give him that toy. Was it worth the money, do you think? I have to admit, I'm not sure about the point of a flying Amity Arena. I know that it does fly, but won't it be out of reach?"
Councillor Emerald shook his head, his magnificent antlers swaying from side to side. "The man in the shop, who I admit was very keen to sell it to me, gave me a demonstration. It only goes about a foot up off the floor, you can make it go as high as two feet, but that uses up the gravity dust, much faster. So, on the normal setting, Bramble will still be capable of standing up, and looking down, into the arena. It opens up, as well."
"'Opens up'?" Sunset asked.
Councillor Emerald nodded. "It isn't, entirely to scale," he said. "The stands are smaller than they ought to be, and the battlefield is bigger than it should be. There are only, about … ten rows, maybe twelve rows of spectator stands, and all the spectators, are moulded to their seats, so that they don't fall out, and get lost or trodden on, when the arena opens up. And the promenade, the outer parts, are not there at all. Just arches, and stickers to make it look like a bustling promenade. So I'm afraid, if anyone wanted to model, your friends taking down the White Fang, they couldn't."
"My what?" Sunset asked. "Councillor, did you say something about the White Fang?"
Councillor Emerald glanced at her. "You didn't know?"
"Didn't know what?"
"You didn't know about the White Fang?"
"No, Councillor, I didn't know about the White Fang; I've been busy," Sunset said, with a touch of impatience entering her voice. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, it turned out to be nothing much, some White Fang infiltrators got on the Amity Arena today, before all this started," Councillor Emerald said. "Tried to kill a couple of Atlas students, I believe. Friends of yours, I think, those famous faunus."
"Blake?" Sunset asked. "Blake and Rainbow Dash."
"Exactly," Councillor Emerald murmured. "Those two. They fought them off, and I understand that all the White Fang were taken into custody, and handed over to the VPD. I'm not sure why they did it. I'm not sure that anyone is sure."
"It doesn't make much sense," Sunset murmured. "Blake and Rainbow have done more to advance the cause of the faunus, or at least to strike back against the oppression of the faunus, than anyone in … why try and kill them? Of all the people, of all the things that the White Fang could be doing … maybe they're jealous?"
"'Jealous'?"
"Envy can be a powerful motive, Councillor, believe you me," Sunset said. "They're alright, aren't they?"
"Your friends?"
"Yes."
"I think so, yes," Councillor Emerald said. "Ironwood told me it had all been handled, no fuss, no bother, no reason to cancel the tournament or anything like that."
"I'm glad," Sunset said. "Yes, I'm glad. Not that the White Fang had much chance; it was stupid of them to go after them in the arena — mind you, I'm not sure there would have been many places in Vale it wouldn't have been stupid to go after them. But tell me about this opening up, Councillor, what does that mean?"
"You still want to talk about that toy?"
"I think it's something that you have to do most of the talking about, Councillor, so speak up and spill."
Councillor Emerald gave a very slight chuckle. "It's quite simple really. The sides of the arena, the walls, they open up. They're on hinges, and while they fasten together, four sides, with plastic clips, you can pull them apart, they fall back, so that it's like a … it's like a flower you see, with four petals, and then a round … filament, is that the word, the battlefield itself is the filament in the centre. That way, Bramble won't have to reach awkwardly down, to move the figures, around the battlefield, and have them fight each other. It has biomes, you know."
"Really?"
"Yes, and I'm not just talking about fixed surfaces, either," Councillor Emerald said. "It's all stored in the bottom, and they come up out of the floor, just like in real matches."
"Really?" Sunset squawked. "Seriously?"
"Apparently it's based, on the technology, that lets huntsmen transform their weapons."
"I'm beginning to think that four hundred lien was cheap for all this," Sunset muttered. "Do the biomes … do they change? Does the lava field shoot lava, and—"
"It's all coloured water, so as not to hurt the children," Councillor Emerald said. "Or melt the figures. But they do shoot up, out of the floor."
"This is an Atlesian toy, I take it?" Sunset said.
"Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald replied. "As a representative, of the Kingdom of Vale, I'm very offended."
Sunset turned her head to get a better look at him.
"But you happen to be right," admitted Councillor Emerald, as sheepishly as someone in his position could admit anything.
Sunset smiled. "Well, Atlesian or not, I'm sure Bramble will be thrilled with it. Especially if you have a good selection of the right teams for him to play with."
"Yes," Councillor Emerald murmured. "The right teams.”
Sunset didn’t press him on the point of which teams he’d bought; she didn’t need to have her ego stroked thus. Instead, she asked him, “Have you wrapped it?"
"Wrapped it?"
"A toy as grand as this deserves a little effort made in handing it over, don't you think?"
"Miss Shimmer, I've been shot trying to preserve this city for future generations," Councillor Emerald reminded her. "That is all the effort that I have it in me to make at present."
"I suppose you've got the right to take that line, Councillor, if anyone does," Sunset conceded. "But all the same, it hardly seems like the kind of thing you should just hand him the box and 'here you go, son' before you leave—"
Lights flashed in Sunset's eyes, lights shining out of the darkness of the corridor down which they trudged, lights mounted on rifles held by Atlesian soldiers or held in the hands of the two Atlesian Specialists who led them out.
"Who goes there?" demanded one of them, the short woman with the power fists on her arms who Sunset had seen fighting earlier. With her was the tall man with the movie-star good looks and the fishing rod. Of their other comrades, the big woman or the bearded man who had been attacked by the robot, there was no sign amongst the ordinary Atlesian soldiers who followed behind the Specialists.
"Don't shoot!" Sunset cried, raising one hand. "This is Councillor Emerald, this is the First Councillor of Vale!"
The Atlesian soldiers kept their rifles trained on Sunset and Councillor Emerald, even as the two Specialists advanced on them. They lowered their flashlights, so that they weren't shining directly in Sunset's eyes, even as they still lit up the dark and gloomy corridor.
"She's right," the man said. "It is the Valish Councillor."
"He doesn't look too good," the woman muttered.
"Sir?" the man asked. "Sir, are you hurt?"
"He's been shot," Sunset explained. "I've stopped the bleeding, but … he needs a doctor, a hospital."
"'Shot'?" cried a Valish officer, with crowns on his shoulders, who pushed his way past the Atlesian soldiers to join the Specialists in front of Sunset and Councillor Emerald. "Councillor? Councillor Emerald, can you hear me?"
"No need to shout, Sky Beak, I can hear you," Councillor Emerald murmured. "Although it is, good to hear your voice."
Sky Beak let out a ragged sigh. "And good to hear yours, Councillor. As good as it was to hear your broadcast just a moment ago. You look…" He trailed off, presumably unable to say honestly that the First Councillor looked well or anything close to it.
"Awful," Councillor Emerald muttered. "I look awful, don't I?"
Sky Beak hesitated, before he said, "What's going on? One moment, our own soldiers were defending the Headquarters, refusing all my orders to lay down their arms, and the next moment, it was as though they'd all come out of some sort of a trance. They stopped fighting, some of them threw down their weapons, others looked as though they didn't understand what had just happened to them. And then we heard your broadcast, saying that General Blackthorn was in custody?"
"General Blackthorn is unconscious in the command centre back the way we've just come," Sunset explained. "As are all the men with him."
"So ‘restrained for his own safety and that of others,’ that was exaggerating things just a little bit," said the Atlesian man.
"I said what needed, to be said," Councillor Emerald insisted. "For the sake of Vale, to calm things down."
"Well, we'll go and … restrain him now, for real," said the woman.
"Although it seems as though there won't be any need to force him to order a Valish surrender," said the man.
"It might not hurt," said the woman. “General Ironwood didn’t say anything about mass delirium; he said it was grimm cultists.”
"No, Harriet," said the man. "Not after the First Councillor's broadcast. Not when there are Valish troops laying down their arms upstairs already." He smiled. "Congratulations, Councillor, you might just have saved the day."
"I can only hope," Councillor Emerald murmured. "Please … be as gentle as you can with, General Blackthorn and his officers; they have not been responsible for their actions. Sky … Colonel Sky Beak, with General Blackthorn … incapable of carrying out his duties, I am appointing you Commanding General of the Valish Defence Forces pending a confirmatory vote of the Council. Take command, get the troops off the streets as I instructed, maintain or reinforce," he groaned. "I won't tell you how to defend the city, but make sure that you do defend the city. The grimm outside—" He groaned again, his face twisting, contorting with pain, his head bowing. Sunset felt a sharp weight pull on her shoulder and thought the Councillor would have fallen if he hadn't been holding onto her.
"He needs a doctor," she said, "a hospital."
"We've had reports of fighting around Valish hospitals," the Atlesian man said. "Take him to the medical frigate; he can get treated there. Wierzbowski, help her with the Councillor."
"Yes, sir," said one of the Atlesian troops, slinging his rifle across his back as he dashed forwards to take Councillor Emerald's other arm and pull it over his shoulder.
"It will be done, Councillor," said Colonel Sky Beak. "I'll do everything I can to get our troops off the streets and protecting the city. You have my word."
Councillor Emerald nodded his head weakly. "Thank you, Sky Beak. I'm counting on you. Vale is counting on you."
"I'll let the airship know that you're on your way," said the Atlesian man, as he tapped his earpiece. "This is Ebi to Echo One-Two-Six, we have a wounded VIP inbound, stand by to transport them to the Comfort for urgent medical attention." He fell silent, then nodded his head after a moment. "They're waiting for you," he said. "Go."
Sunset and the Atlesian soldier — Wierzbowski — began to move, carrying Councillor Emerald much faster between the two of them than Sunset had been able to do on her own. Colonel Sky Beak and his Atlesian escort went the other way, moving past them towards the command centre; the lights from their flashlights disappeared behind Sunset and the others, vanishing off into the gloom.
As they moved, it occurred to Sunset that the Atlesians didn't seem to have encountered Cinder on their way down. She hadn't heard any gunshots, no sounds of a battle going on ahead, nor did they seem to have fought anyone. It was as though they had slipped past one another, like ghosts.
That was probably for the best. The quicker this situation could be gotten under control, the better, without Cinder starting a fight after the fight was over.
Cinder had changed so quickly that she would have made actors jealous.
It helped that she had omitted the 'undressing' part of changing and still had her red dress on underneath the loose-fitting Valish uniform that she had taken from an unconscious soldier that she'd come across. It wasn't as though she was going to go around wearing this ugly, shapeless, green crime against fashion for very long — it was practically a jumpsuit, for goodness' sake — she wore it because she needed it for just a little while, but at the first opportunity, she intended to tear it off again, probably literally, and let her red dress show once again.
But, for all its excellent qualities, it had to be admitted that she would never have gotten out of the Valish Headquarters wearing the red dress. She was, after all, infamous; she was Cinder Fall, the notorious, the terrible, the would-be destroyer of Vale. Sonata had mocked her persistent failures and lack of accomplishments, but although Cinder had admittedly failed to accomplish the destruction of her enemies, she had nevertheless succeeded in making herself well known here. She was Cinder Fall, and as Cinder Fall, she wouldn't be allowed to just walk out of here.
Wearing a Valish uniform, though, with a cap covering her head and casting a shadow over her face, with her hair bound back in a ponytail using an elastic band that Cinder had found in someone's office, then there was nothing and no one stopping her from leaving to go wherever she liked.
The fact of the matter was that there were too many Valish soldiers and too few Atlesians; General Ironwood had decided to launch a small strike on the Valish Headquarters rather than to flood the area with soldiers. No doubt, he, prodded by Ozpin, had hoped to avoid the mass bloodshed that would make the pressure for war harder to resist. And yet, there had been bloodshed, on both sides. She was in the courtyard now, and there were dead Valish soldiers lying in the eaves, beside or behind columns that were pocked with bullet holes, or which had been destroyed in places by rocket or grenade fire. Dead men lay in the middle of holes in the wall, the dust of the destruction mingling with the blood. It was not only smashed and shattered robots that littered the ground, but dead men and women in green.
Dead men and women in white, also, or in the metallic armour of the Atlesian infantry. Their casualties were not so numerous, an inevitable fact by dint of their much smaller numbers of soldiers, but amongst them was one of their Specialists. They had lain their body out on the grass and covered their face and upper body with a jacket, but Cinder could see their boots and trousers and they did not resemble the other Atlesians. One of their elites had fallen in this battle.
Cinder wondered if they had a family, if they had children back home in Atlas waiting for their father or mother's return from the battlefield but whose surviving parent would have to tell them that their mommy or daddy would never be coming home. If they had children who would be expected to take comfort from the fact that mommy or daddy had died a hero, who would be solemnly handed a flag by General Ironwood as though that made any difference at all, as though a cheap rag to be run up a pole was any substitute for a mother's arms, for love and comfort, for a happy home, for safety.
Cinder felt bile rise in her throat. Bile that was directed not at General Ironwood but at herself.
I should have thought of all of that before I started all this.
How many more Ashleys have I created? How many more have I condemned? How many foolish girls have I shattered the worlds and lives of?
Perhaps when I am old and grey, if I live to be old and grey, then one of them will seek me out and have their revenge.
But revenge will not bring back their families.
I am a creature of malice, a monster who makes earthquakes where I tread, and houses fall from them.
Cinder bowed her head, clutching at one elbow with her other arm.
Nobody noticed. This whole base was now so full of shamefaced-looking Valish soldiers that one more didn't make any difference or attract any comment.
Who would have commented on it? The handful of overstretched Atlesian troops? Their numbers might have been adequate, once they had breached the courtyard, to fight their way through the corridors, but they were wholly insufficient to keep an eye on so many Valish. They were hampered by the fact that the status of the Valish was somewhat uncertain. They were not prisoners, at least not sufficiently so as to justify rounding them all up to kneel in one corner with their hands on their heads. Councillor Emerald had ordered them to cease fighting and had begged General Ironwood to do the same; he hadn't surrendered to the Atlesians, however, and the Atlesians seemed unwilling to press the point. Perhaps they were worried that, if pushed, the amazed and dismayed Valish might start to resist again. As it was, the Valish had been disarmed, their rifles stacked up under Atlesian guard, but the soldiers themselves were free to move.
And many of them were moving; they drifted here and there like dandelions blown away at the mercy of the breeze that picked them up to drop them here or there. Cinder had even caught sight of a couple that were, as she planned to, heading for the exit. Maybe they meant to obey Councillor Emerald's order to return to barracks, or maybe they were going home. Either way, there seemed no will on the part of the Atlesians to stop them.
Indeed, it might even make things easier for the Atlesians if the Valish did all abscond; they wouldn't have to keep an eye on them.
For her own part, she would leave, and then…
"To be revenged on the whole pack of them."
Cinder kept her head bowed a little as she slunk across the edges of the courtyard, passing under the shadows of the portico. She moved slowly, with her head bowed, as though shame burdened her heavily upon her shoulders. Shame did burden her: shame for what Sonata had done to her and shame for the growing realisation of what she had done: to create herself, perhaps many times over.
There was a rucksack slung across one shoulder; she had her glass slippers in there, as well as her weapons; at present, she had been forced to wear combat boots upon her feet; they were uncomfortable, they fitted poorly, and if it hadn't been for her aura, Cinder was absolutely certain that they would have given her blisters.
She would be free of all of it soon enough, once she was free of this place.
This place where the dead Specialist lay and stirred up such treacherous thoughts in Cinder's mind.
She was fortunate that neither glass slippers nor glass swords rattled or chinked or crashed in her rucksack as she walked — another reason for sloth in Cinder's movements. She was quiet as she made her way around the edges of the courtyard.
Cinder stopped as Sunset emerged. She stepped closer to a bullet-marked column, hiding within the shadows even as a part of her wanted Sunset to notice her, wanted to be spotted, wanted … something more than their meeting had given her, marred as it had been by the fact that Cinder had been too little herself.
When she thought of what Sonata had done to her, a mere spear through the gut seemed too good for her; Cinder should have incinerated the body at least, or better still, burned her alive. That would have risked Sonata using her magic on Cinder again even while she burned, but even so … her death had been too swift by far. Too swift for someone who had made a slave of Cinder, who had bound her more thoroughly than Lady Kommenos could have dreamt of, had made her more helpless than that stupid little girl who had died in Mistral.
Cinder was supposed to be stronger than that; Cinder was supposed to be, whatever else, inviolate in herself, in her will, in her resolve. Enemies could defeat her, kill her, betray and abandon her, but they could not make her other than she was.
Except they had. Sonata had. She had taken Cinder's feelings, and she had twisted and usurped them, and she had made Cinder into her plaything.
Cinder had not thought it was possible for such a fate to befall her. She hated the fact that such a fate had befallen her. She hated the fact that, in being liberated from that enslavement, she had something in common with these Valish soldiers, this common, vulgar herd devoid of … of will, passion, resolve, of destiny. Of destiny most of all.
Cinder had thought herself, had striven to be, one of the Great Ones, whose fortunes might ebb and flow like the moon but who always remained set apart from those beneath. The knowledge, the belief, the intention and desire to be … different, special, elevated, marked, chosen, it had comforted her in her darkest moments, it had inspired her at her lowest, it had driven her in the face of great obstacles. It had been her light in dark places, her guiding star even when the clouds closed in.
It had been the blanket in which she had swaddled herself, and like a baby's blanket, it had proven a fragile thing, inadequate. Her destiny, her greatness, none of it had prevented her from being used by Sonata, just as all these other men and women had.
Cinder had never thought to have anything in common with such people as these, still less to have in common that they had been slaves.
She hated it. She hated it all the more because she could not escape it. It would always be a part of her, just as it would always be a part of them, something binding them together for all that they knew it not.
At least she had been able to free herself, after a fashion. If Sunset had set her free, then that would have been unbearably demeaning. She wouldn't have been able to look Sunset in the face again without being constantly reminded of how much she owed to her; the debt would have been infuriating.
As it was, by having set herself free, Cinder could look at Sunset. She could watch her as she and an Atlesian soldier carried the First Councillor of Vale out towards one of the Atlesian airships. The Councillor did not look in a good way, but then, being shot had that effect. Still, Atlesian medicine was very advanced; a simple gunshot wound shouldn't be beyond their capabilities.
The Atlesian soldier stopped at the airship, but Sunset got on board with the injured Councillor, and Cinder lost sight of her as the airship door slammed shut. Still, she kept her eyes upon the Skyray as it rose into the night sky, taking off towards … wherever it was going. To get help for the Councillor, one presumed.
Cinder wondered if Sunset might stay up there for the rest of the battle. Probably not, but if she did, it would no doubt be safer than other places she could go.
For herself, Cinder resumed her course, moving amongst the disoriented, disaffected, distracted Valish soldiers. Moving amongst her fellow ex-slaves.
Cinder attempted not to seem as though she were moving with too much purpose, that she were as aimless as all the rest, as driven by random impulse and no coherent plan. Either it worked, or she just passed unnoticed, but no one challenged her, not even when she made her way into the deserted lobby of the building. There was a security door wide open, and Cinder ventured, quickening her step to reach it before — or in case — it closed. Her boots squeaked on the floor as she passed through the door, her pace quickening all the while so that, as she burst out into the street beyond the building, she was running.
She ran to where the barricade closing off the street had been broken down, where a silent and motionless tank with a sawn-off gun barrel sat with unconscious soldiers lying all around it. Sunset's work, no doubt, it was how she had gotten in here in the first place. Now, Cinder ran past that handiwork, and now, her glass in the rucksack clinked and clanked and clattered as she jogged it with her motions.
There was a hole in the road, and the same blast that made it had blown out the fronts of the buildings on either side also; Cinder dived into one of them, picking her way through the rubble of the blast into the bathroom, which had not been affected.
There, putting her rucksack down, she started to take off her stolen green jacket.
She stopped, looking at her neck, her bare neck, her neck which had, not too long ago, hosted that atrocious collar. Cinder stroked her bare neck with one hand, black nails scratching against pale skin. Her choker had been a simple thing, a plain and ordinary-looking black thing, but it had been hers, of her own choosing. Sonata had taken that away from her and replaced it with that hideous, awful, unbearable, mocking symbol of her enslavement. That was gone, gods be praised, but now, her neck was bare. Her neck was bare because her choice had been taken away.
Replacing it, then, was her first order of business. Replace it, and she might feel a little more herself.
And after that…
"To be revenged on the whole pack of them."
The Atlesian medical frigate was not that much smaller than one of their cruisers; standing up, Sunset could look into the cockpit of the Skyray and then beyond, out of the window, to the ship that was their destination. The Comfort was rounder in shape than the cruisers, with a rounded, spherical hull and the only angles coming with the engine block mounted at the rear. The frigate was all white, lacking the blacks or dark greys of the warships; on the side was painted a very large and unmistakable red staff with a complex knot forming a four-pointed star set on top of it. It was the traditional symbol for healing and healthcare, although Sunset could not entirely remember why.
Sunset turned away from the ship, and looked down at Councillor Emerald. He was on the stretcher now, secured to the floor so that its movements wouldn't disturb him. He looked up at the ceiling with eyes that seemed a little unfocussed, worryingly so.
"Councillor?" Sunset asked softly, so as not to disturb the pilots, as she knelt down beside him. "Councillor, can you still hear me?"
Councillor Emerald blinked twice and turned his gaze slowly towards her. "Yes," he murmured. "Yes, I can hear you, Miss Shimmer."
"Good," Sunset said. "Good that … that's good. We don't want you wandering off anywhere."
Councillor Emerald blinked, although that word implied a greater speed than he actually demonstrated in the opening and closing of his eyes. "Miss Shimmer?"
"Yes, Councillor?"
"Will you … will you do me a favour?"
"That depends," Sunset said. "I'm not taking any dying messages for you because you're not dying."
"If … if I—"
"No," Sunset insisted. "No, Councillor, I'm not doing it. Save your breath, save your words, tell them yourself, because you're not going anywhere. We're almost there, and then some very talented people are going to fix you right up."
Councillor Emerald smiled faintly. "So confident, Miss Shimmer?"
"I refuse to admit any other outcome, Councillor," Sunset said stiffly.
"In that case, I ask that you go and see Bramble and tell him that I'll be fine," Councillor Emerald said softly. "Don't hide from him just because you're ashamed that I was hurt."
Sunset shifted awkwardly in place. "You … your grasp on my nature is astonishing, considering the brevity of our acquaintance. You must be a very good judge of character."
Councillor Emerald looked away. "Not … as much as I might like."
The side door of the Skyray slid open — distracted by talking to the Councillor, Sunset hadn't noticed that they were landing; even the movement of the airship as it slid inside had passed her by — and Sunset's eyes were met by a docking bay as white as the exterior of the frigate, a nearly barren space devoid of stacked crates or equipment or anything that might interrupt rapid movement, a docking bay that was as full of orderlies in green coveralls as it was deck crew in orange vests.
Two of the aforementioned orderlies were standing right outside the airship when the door opened. They sprang inside and began working assiduously to undo the straps that held the Councillor's stretcher down.
"Is this the VIP?" one of them asked without ceremony.
"Yes," Sunset said. "Yes, that's Councillor Emerald; he's been shot."
"Affirmative. OR's already been prepped for surgery."
"Let's go. On two. One, two."
They lifted the Councillor's stretcher up, bearing him quickly — but not without gentleness — out of the airship and onto a hovering table that was waiting to receive him. There was a tank strapped to the underside of the platform, with a face mask and a rubber tube joining the two. As Sunset watched, one of the two orderlies placed the mask on top of the Councillor's mouth. His antlers prevented them from strapping it on, but it stayed in place.
Councillor Emerald's eyes found Sunset again as the two orderlies bore him away. As the Councillor's eyes stayed on her, Sunset found herself following the platform. She left the airship and trailed after the two orderlies, keeping pace with them even as she lagged a little behind.
She followed the platform down stark white corridors, without the stains that Sunset might have expected, past robots doing menial tasks — they seemed to be the ones partly responsible for the absence of stains — who all rolled out of the way as the trolley came by, buzzing and beeping and making a variety of wordless scratching noises as they made a hole for the Councillor, and for Sunset following hard behind. She followed them past wards lined with beds, some of which were occupied already but most of which were empty, until they took the Councillor into a smaller surgical ward, where a transparent door closed in Sunset's face and showed no sign of opening.
Sunset stood in front of the door nonetheless, not because she thought it would open but because … why was she here? Why was she standing here like this, watching as a nurse swapped out the mask on Councillor Emerald's face for a different one, attached to a larger tank — of air, or maybe oxygen — mounted in the corner of the room? Why was she watching as doctors and nurses in blue scrubs, with their hands covered in surgical gloves, their faces sat behind transparent visors, got to work removing the Councillor's clothes, cutting away the bandage that Sunset had used to staunch the bleeding — blood spilled out of the Councillor's body.
Sunset frowned and wanted to look away but couldn't. She was stuck there, frozen, unable to do anything to help, unable to do anything but watch. Even when the medical team crowded around the Councillor and made it so Sunset couldn't see him anymore, she still wasn't able to look away. She was stuck there, because … because she was hoping that she could see enough to say with confidence that he was going to be fine.
A curtain drew across the door; it must have been triggered remotely, or else it moved automatically, because no one came over to draw the curtain. It just drew, concealing everything, even the doctors and nurses, from Sunset's sight.
Still she stayed there, rooted to the spot, staring at the blue curtain that told her nothing.
"He's very lucky."
Sunset started and looked around to see a nurse standing beside her. She was a tall woman, dark skinned after the Atlesian fashion, with black hair tied back in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She was dressed in blue, with translucent blue plastic bags on her shoes, half-concealing the white trainers underneath.
Sunset wondered if she ought to have put those on, but nobody had told her to.
The nurse held out a pair to her.
"Thanks," Sunset murmured, as she lifted up one leg and started pulling a bag over her boot. "'Lucky'?"
"Serious casualties are still quite light, so your friend was able to get taken to surgery immediately, and not just because he's a VIP," the nurse explained. "Plus, he's in the best hands. Doctor Song is an excellent surgeon. She could be making six figures in private practice if he wanted to."
"Then why isn't he?" asked Sunset.
"Because she'd rather help people than help her bank balance," the nurse replied. She glanced at the blue curtain that seemed to half-mock Sunset with its presence, and a faint smile flitted across her lips even as a sigh escaped from them. She returned her attention to Sunset. "I know that this might not seem like my place, and I know that after you brought him in here, it must seem like he's your responsibility … but the battle isn't over yet. You might want to think about whether this is the best place you can be right now."
She didn't give Sunset a chance to respond. She turned away and walked off down the corridor, leaving Sunset staring after her.
Was that a gentle way of ordering me off the ship, or…?
Whatever the motive for it, Sunset couldn't really deny that the nurse was correct; she couldn't do anything for Councillor Emerald just staring at this curtain, and it wasn't as though she couldn't do anything for anyone else either.
Of course, what else she could do for other people depended in no small part on the willingness of other people to tolerate her presence. Looking after Councillor Emerald, going with him, it had all had the advantage that she could do her part without needing to trouble Ruby — or risk Ruby's response if she came near her. Now…
With fighting going on in so many places, I'm sure I can find somewhere to be that Ruby isn't. If there's still fighting in Vale, then I can lend a hand there.
Sunset started back down the corridor, the way that she had come, when she was interrupted by the sound of orderlies crying out for people to make room. She pressed herself against the wall, Soteria and Sol Invictus tapping against the white tiles, as four orderlies rushed two more hovering platforms through. The first carried — was that Flash? Sunset caught a flash of blue hair, a familiar face — and blood, a lot of blood, blood dripping off the trolley and onto the floor.
"Flash?" Sunset whispered, but the orderlies rushed past her with their trolley, and she lost sight of Flash, or whoever was on there; she couldn't see, she could only see the orderlies as they rushed the trolley into another operating theatre.
Sunset might have followed to that door, but the second platform was hard upon the first, and she couldn't move. That platform had Cardin on it, she was certain of it, he was sitting up, and he looked at Sunset as he was pushed on by.
"Sunset?" he asked.
"Cardin?" Sunset murmured. "Cardin!" she yelled and followed him because if Cardin was here, then the odds of Flash having been pushed into that operating theatre just went up alarmingly. Sunset looked behind her, in case she saw Weiss or Russel being borne in as well, but there was no sign of either of them, just bare corridor and robots cleaning up the blood.
So Sunset followed Cardin, her shoe-covers crunching; the orderlies brought him into a large room with a lot of beds, all of them empty. Cardin got off the trolley himself and stood up as the orderlies started to remove his armour.
"Cardin!" Sunset repeated as she came in, trying to get a better look at him over or around the medical orderlies. "Cardin, what happened to you? Where's Weiss and Russel and … and…?" Was that Flash I just saw going into surgery? The words stuck in her throat; she could not say them.
"Sunset?" Cardin said, taking a step towards her before being sharply reminded to stay put. "Sunset, what are you doing here?" His blue eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down. "You don't look hurt."
"No, I brought someone wounded up here," Sunset said. "Councillor Emerald."
Cardin's eyes widened. "Councillor Emerald's been wounded?"
"He's in surgery now," Sunset explained. "They tell me that he's in good hands."
"I'm sure he is, but … dammit!" Cardin snapped. "What happened?"
"He was … he got the military to lay down their arms and stop fighting the Atlesians," Sunset said. "But he was wounded doing it."
"And you were there?" Cardin asked. "I thought you were leaving on a special mission."
Right. Mount Aris. The grimm. "Helping Councillor Emerald stop a war turned out to be an even more special mission," Sunset murmured. "I … I'm sorry that I couldn't stop him from getting hurt. I was fighting, and … I thought I'd taken care of everyone in the room, but someone else slipped in without me noticing."
"It happens, I guess," Cardin muttered. "So long as he's okay. The last thing we need is to lose another First Councillor."
"And the last thing his son needs is to lose another parent," Sunset muttered. "So … what happened to you?"
"Beringel," Cardin growled. "Busted up my arm. That's why I need help taking my armour off like a little kid." He looked at Sunset. "And yeah, you saw right, that was Flash on the other trolley. I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?" Sunset repeated. "You…" she shook her head. "You don't have to be … I mean … how is he?"
"The grimm messed him up pretty good," Cardin said. "I think … his legs…"
Cardin didn't say anymore. He didn't need to say any more; his silence was speaking for him more loudly than any words could have.
His legs. He was going to lose his legs.
He was such a good dancer. That thought, that utterly absurd thought, was at the forefront of Sunset's mind. It meant nothing, it mattered less, it was utterly trivial and completely irrelevant to the situation at hand, and yet, at Cardin's words, at his implications, it was the only thought in Sunset's mind. The memory of school dances at Canterlot filled her mind, the way Flash could move, the rhythm he possessed, the way that he could dance formally with grace or get down to it with style and vigour in equal measure, it consumed Sunset's mind.
And now, he was going to lose his legs. Those legs that he had used to dance so well, to look so good, to impress so much … he was going to lose them.
Oh, Flash.
He'll walk again. He'll get a new pair of legs, and he'll walk again and run again and even fight again if he still wants to.
But he may never dance like that again.
Oh, Flash.
"And, um," Sunset murmured. "And your other teammates?"
"They're fine," Cardin said. "I mean, they're not hurt, anyway. Weiss unlocked a new part of her semblance to save our lives."
"Good for her," Sunset muttered. It sounded harsher than maybe was necessary, but it was hard to feel a lot of enthusiasm for Weiss' accomplishment when Flash was about to lose his legs. Couldn't she have done it a little sooner?
Sunset took a step backwards. "Take care of yourself, Cardin," she said. "And if you see Flash, tell him I said … I said I'm sorry."
"You're going back out there?" Cardin asked.
Sunset nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. I can't just hang around here, can I?"
"Then give 'em hell for us, okay?" Cardin said.
Sunset smiled grimly. "You bet," she said, and left him in the capable hands of the orderlies. For her own part, she strode briskly down the corridor, retracing her steps until she had made it back to the hangar bay.
There were no airships; they had all gone, and they hadn't been there to offer her taxi rides anyway. The airships were all gone, but the hangar doors were still open, and it couldn't be much farther from here down to Vale than it was from the clifftop into the forest.
Sunset walked to the edge of the landing bay and looked down to make sure that she wasn't going to drop straight onto another incoming airship. There were none. As far as she could see, the skies were clear.
Councillor, Flash, I'll bring you both some flowers when I come visit.
For now, though, once more into the breach.
But not the Breach, thank Celestia.
Anyway, here I come.
Sunset jumped and began to fall away from the Comfort and down, back down, towards the city of Vale.
And towards the battles that waited there.
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And so we have the Councilor into medical hands; Sunset saw Flash and Cardin and realized she still has a part to play in the Battle ahead; revealed a part of her to Con. Emerald, and now we have Cinder feeling remorse for her actions. Congrats Cinder, you’re one step closer to Redemption! Now you’ll have to atone for the rest of your life for the bad things you’ve done! Yay!
Anyway, I am excited to see how things will go from here on out now that the Vale Military aren’t actively being mind-controlled, and how bad will things unravel from here on out? We still have the Grimm Horde on the edges of the city, the Dragon Grimm hadn’t awaken yet, and Amber & Co. are just waiting for their moment to get the Relic. I am thinking that the next few chapters will start focusing on the Grimm Horde and we will jump back to PAPR (Penny in place of Sunset) and Rainbow to start transitioning to the Grimm Horde threat.
(Also congrats for 4 Million words! Wow!)
I saw the Author's Note, Scipio, thank you! As an aspiring screenwriter, it does the heart good to infer the approaching character growth. This was a lifechanging moment for Cinder, and this time she cannot blame anyone but herself for it.
Glad to hear that Councilor Emerald now has the best chance he could possibly have. And the First Councilor being tended to by Atlesian hands is quite symbolic, showing the world that Altas can *heal* rather than merely destroy.
And after stopping a war, Sunset Shimmer is back in the fight!
A breath of air has been released and a major victory has been won... through not without cost and sacrifices, both offered and forced. And now the stage has been set for tensions to rise once more as there are other stakes to play for.
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At the very least, Lieutenant Martinez has been avenged. For the Siren is dead, slain by her own puppet.
Weiss will be hurt by the Lieutenant's loss. But I'm especially curious how it will affect Cardin, since he'll be staying in Vale.
And with that, the arc with the First Councillor done. I'm glad they could chat more and Sunset could elaborate on her origins, restricted as the explanation might be, for I don't blame Sunset not willing to share everything like why she came to Remnant, but I believe the Councillor Emerald is trustworthy enough to keep her secret.
A little moment of self-reflection for Cinder, I see.
If this goes similar to the original, Cinder will find herself indebted to Sunset anyway once Sunset frees Cinder from Salem's influence.
So Wisteria is completely out this time it seems, so that means no Weiss (for now at least)
Time for magic becon horse style landing strategies.
"Que Adam Warlock theme song"
Damn, such a good chapter. The talk between Sunset and Councillor Emerald was just so wholesome, also very glad he didn't die.
Cinder beginning to actually think on what to do and feel some kind of remorse and guilt for the dead people is also a start. I love Cinder, and if you plan on making her a good guy in the future then I'll love her even more.
Also i sure am glad Sunset found her determination once again, but, why did she jump out of a flying ship widout any aura? I get that she has magic, but her aura should still be broken, right?
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It's a callback to the initiation, where they break their fall before finding their partners, and I'm pretty sure Sunset only used her magic to break her fall in it, so she's fine.