SAPR

by Scipio Smith

Champion

Champion

Four months earlier...

The room in the prison was squat and enclosed on all four sides, with no windows disturbing the white plaster walls that hemmed them in, which combined with the fact that the doors on the east and west side of the chamber were both locked to give the feeling of a prison within a prison. And this was the place, the sort of place at least, albeit not in this very room, where Sunset was going to be spending the rest of her life. Caged like a beast...Pyrrha could scarcely imagine it.

Perhaps-

"Don't even think about it," Sunset said.

Pyrrha started in surprise. "How do you-"

Sunset smirked. "Pyrrha Nikos, you are a fount of virtues and full of many splendid qualities, but I am afraid that hiding your feelings isn't one of them."

"I can't let you stay here."

"You don't have a choice."

"Sonata took the crown; she did not take the power of choice out of the world," Pyrrha replied. "I always have a choice."

"Then so do I," Sunset declared.

"You'll die here," Pyrrha whispered, her throat dry.

"I don't think they'll kill me," Sunset said airily, far more so than the situation warranted. "I saved the prison. I helped to save the city. That has to count for something, right?"

"Even if it does," Pyrrha said. "You'll still live out the rest of your life trapped in these walls."

"And the alternative?" Sunset asked. "Are you going to make a space for me on a Mistralian ship? Are you going to hide me in your house? An escaped fugitive for a guest, that's going to do wonders for your reputation."

"I don't care about my reputation," Pyrrha said.

"You ought to, you might need it someday, and sooner than you think," Sunset suggested. She nodded at Jaune, who had hitherto stood silent, just behind Pyrrha. "You get it, don't you, Jaune?"

Jaune was silent for a moment, and Pyrrha fancied that she could sense his discomfort from here. "I think...with Professor Ozpin gone and Professor Lionheart a traitor and the network down...that's a lot of influence gone. There's no one to pull strings, there's no one to ease the way, nobody to cover our backs with authority. I...I hate to say it, Pyrrha, I really do, but the reputation of the Invincible Girl might be all we have left."

Pyrrha didn't reply, mostly because she couldn't deny the fact no matter how much she disliked it. Without Professor Ozpin's guidance, she didn't know if she would make the right choices, or simply know what to do; she wasn't sure where she should start, but even if she did work out what she was supposed to do now on her own, she would have no one to help her get there, no one under whose authority she could claim to be acting. As much as she disliked it, she might find herself having to resort to 'because I'm Pyrrha Nikos' to excuse herself and her behaviour.

“And besides,” Sunset added, “the last thing you need is someone thinking you condone my behaviour. With how people look at you, you’ll be up to your elbows in copycats before you know it.” She smiled, but it was a smile that had something sickly about it. “I’m joking...but at the same time not because you really are that popular.”

Pyrrha did not respond to that reactly. She wasn’t sure how she could. "I don't like leaving you," she murmured. "Or Ruby, either."

Sunset bit her lip. "I...I confess that I might sleep a little easier if I knew that Ruby was going to Mistral with you two...I'm not sure that she should be alone right now, but...but that's her choice, like this is mine. Don't worry about me," she said, a smile playing across her face. "I've got Cinder to keep me company."

"That isn't particularly reassuring," Pyrrha said; for all that Cinder had saved her life, it wasn't enough to simply erase all of the mistrust that had gone before, even if perhaps it should have been.

Sunset's expression became serious. "I didn't ask you to come here so you could break me out."

"Then why are we here?" Pyrrha asked. "To say goodbye?"

"Yes," Sunset said earnestly. "And because I have a gift for you. A going away present."

Pyrrha frowned. "A gift."

Sunset nodded gravely. "The power of the Fall Maiden."

Pyrrha gasped, her eyes flickering towards the camera mounted to the wall. "Sunset!" she hissed.

"That's turned off," Sunset said. "One of the guards is doing me a favour."

"I...I see," Pyrrha murmured. "Except that I don't."

"Professor Ozpin said that the power of the Maiden only passed on when the previous Maiden died," Jaune said.

Pyrrha's eyes widened. "Sunset, you're not-"

"No!" Sunset said quickly. "No, this isn't that, no." She shook her head forcefully back and forth, her fiery hair bouncing around her.

"But how do you even have the powers?" Pyrrha asked. "Cinder-"

"Passed them to me," Sunset said. "As I will pass them on to you."

Pyrrha's breath caught in her throat. This seemed...it was incredible and unbelievable at the same time. This almost seemed like a test, a temptation of that which she had coveted. Surely, this could not be real. "How?"

Sunset shrugged. "The Maidens were created when magic was given to them; it stands to a certain degree of reason that it can be given again," she said. "Or perhaps it's me: in my world, magic can be transferred from one pony to another, though it is little done save in dire extremity."

"And that's where we are?" Pyrrha said, her tone only half a question. "In dire extremity."

Sunset pursed her lips together for a moment. "Is it an inaccurate description?" she asked. "Professor Ozpin is dead, the CCT is down; Atlas, Vale, Mistral...the power of the Maidens may be needed more than ever."

"But it was given to you," Pyrrha reminded her, as though she needed reminding. "Cinder chose you to have this gift; she surrendered her powers up to you as she surrendered her ambition and her evil and all else up to you. That...that is something nearly sacred in devotion; I cannot simply come between that, nor should you so readily cast it aside."

"She gave her powers to me," Sunset said. "Which makes them mine to give to whom I choose. Professor Ozpin chose you; you were always meant to take Amber's place. This gift was never meant for me or Cinder, only for you." Sunset took a step forward, two pairs of vivid green eyes staring into one another. "I am, for now at least, the Maiden of Choice, and I choose to honour Professor Ozpin's dying wish, to entrust this power to the one he trusted to wield it, justly and well."

Pyrrha bowed her head. "Sunset, I..." It was a great honour that Sunset did to her, bestowing her trust on Pyrrha's shoulders thus, just as Professor Ozpin had honoured Pyrrha with his trust so often in the last days before his death. But he had died, did that not prove his trust in Pyrrha to have been in vain? "You speak of Professor Ozpin’s trust, but Professor Ozpin died because he placed that trust in those who were unworthy of it," she whispered.

"But not of his trust in you," Sunset replied fiercely, as her ears flattened down against her head. She reached out and placed her hand upon Pyrrha's chest, above her heart. "You have the heart of a hero sprung out of myth and legend. Now let me give you the might to match."

Pyrrha said nothing. She wanted this. She wanted the gift that Sunset offered as she had wanted it every time it had been offered to her; but what if that desire showed that she was in the end unworthy of it, in spite of all the faith that others placed in her and in her virtues?

"You should take it," Jaune said, his voice soft but certain. "No offence, Sunset, but what good is the Maiden's power going to be stuck in a cell?"

Sunset snorted, and for a moment, Pyrrha thought she would come down with an attack of the giggles. "None taken, Jaune," she said. "You make an excellent point; even if you have lowered the tone just a little."

"But you are right nonetheless," Pyrrha admitted. "Very well."

Sunset smiled as she first took one step back and then another. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands together at her chest; when she opened her eyes again, they were both ringed with fire, burning with the anima of the Fall Maiden, and more than that, after a moment, her pupils turned completely white, glowing like Ruby's silver eyes when they flared with power. Sunset seemed to glow, her whole body giving off light that was orange like flame; her expression was taut, she shuddered, it was as though she was struggling for control, or perhaps for mastery. The blazing anima around her eyes died as the burning light receded from her body, retreating down her arm and into the palm of her hand. Sunset scowled with concentration as a sphere of orange light, continuously expanding in size, rose above the palm of her hand, swelling and growing, rising towards the ceiling. Then, as though a thread tethering it to Sunset Shimmer had been severed, the power flowed in dancing threads like ribbon caught by a strong autumn wind through the air and into Pyrrha.

Pyrrha gasped as all breath left her throat. As the power flowed into her body, she was lifted up into the air, eyes burning white, arms spread out on either side as the flames danced around her. She remembered how it had felt when her mother first unlocked her aura, how empowered she had felt, how capable. It was the same now, but...but more. She felt a heady rush of strength through her limbs as though she could do anything, as though nature itself would bend at her command.

That rush, like blood to the head, passed as the transfer completed, and Pyrrha found herself set back down on her feet upon the floor of the windowless room, facing a Sunset who seemed older now, or wearier at the least, with bags beneath her drooping eyes and hair that seemed to have lost a little of its fire. "Sunset," Pyrrha murmured. "You are-"

"Diminished," Sunset finished for her. "For a little while. It will pass." She moved - a little unsteadily but nevertheless - to close the distance between the two of them. "This is not my destiny and never was, and with your help, I made my peace with that some time ago."

"Sunset, I..." Pyrrha hesitated. She felt a tear prick at the corner of her eye. This...what Sunset had done would have been too much in ordinary circumstances, but now? When it would be their last meeting for some time, maybe forever? What should she say? What could she say? "No matter what, I vow upon my soul that I will be worthy of your trust in me and of this gift you have bestowed."

Sunset flung her arms around Pyrrha, holding her close as her hair engulfed Pyrrha's face. "I'll miss you," she said. "So much."

Pyrrha gently folded her own arms around Sunset in turn. "I do not know what fate has in store for us, but...but I will always consider myself your friend."

Sunset patted her on the back. "It's all up to you now, Pyrrha," she said. "I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. Me, Ruby, Professor Ozpin, we're all counting on you. You've got to be the hero now, for all of us."

---

Three Months Earlier…

Pyrrha finished speaking, and silence reigned within her sitting room. Her own words ceased, and no new words rushed to fill the void that she had left. Nora looked, for perhaps the first time, poleaxed into speechlessness. Ren was his usual inscrutable self, but within the confines of the fact that he wore tranquillity like a well-worn cloak, even he looked a little surprised by the truths that Pyrrha had unfolded to him. Sun’s mouth was open, but no words emerged. Neptune was engaged in a detailed study of his hand, seeming deep in thought. Even Pyrrha’s mother was silent, her hands gripping the folds of her dress so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

Sun broke the silence with a low whistle that echoed off the green walls and the ochre beams of the room.

Pyrrha glanced at Jaune; he of course had known all of this already, but she had hoped that he would have some notion of how to proceed. It appeared that, having told all they knew, he was as at a loss as she was until some sort of reaction was forthcoming.

“I’m aware that this is a great deal to take in-“ began Pyrrha.

“You think?” Arslan said, her voice sharp. She ran both hands through her wild tangle of hair. “Sorry, this…yeah, there’s a lot here, isn’t there.” She leaned back, sprawling out across the green settee, spreading her arms across the varnished wooden back of the furniture. “So to sum up: the gods were real but aren’t around any more, there is an evil…something who controls the grimm and wants to kill us all, and you are an honest to goodness magical girl because you weren’t ridiculous enough already?”

Pyrrha bowed her head for a moment. “That…is a severely condensed version, but basically accurate.”

“You forgot the part where the Headmaster of Beacon was running a secret war out of his office,” Neptune said. “And the part where Professor Lionheart sold us out to the bad guys.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “There’s that, too.”

“I would not have thought he had the courage to turn traitor,” Lady Nikos said softly. “He is bolder than he appears to be.”

“With all due respect, my lady, that’s not very amusing,” Ren said.

“It was not meant to be amusing, Mister Ren,” Lady Nikos replied sharply. “It is despicable, but at the same time, it requires a certain kind of valour to sit in the midst of your enemies and attempt to undermine their every move. A different kind of courage than to face your foes upon the battlefield, but courage nonetheless.” She pursed her lips together for a moment. “I have underestimated Lionheart for many years, it seems. I and all the rest who were content to dismiss him as a wretched incompetent. He is much more than we gave him credit for, and we must not underestimate him again, or it may cost us dearly.”

“Why keep it a secret?” Neptune asked. “Why not tell the Council? Why not tell everyone?”

“Professor Ozpin wanted it kept secret,” Pyrrha said. “He told only a handful of trusted confidantes and agents; he was afraid that if people knew about the existence of the relics, then people would seek to abuse their power…and the Maidens would be hunted down for the same, as the legends tell they were in ancient times.”

“But if people knew the truth, they might do things differently,” Neptune suggested.

“I think that’s another thing Professor Ozpin and his predecessors were afraid of,” Jaune replied. “If people knew the truth, then they’d be afraid, and that fear might drive them to make mistakes, maybe even to betray humanity like Amber or Lionheart.”

Neptune winced. “I...yeah, I guess you’re right about that. But all the same, if more people who were brave enough to face the truth knew the truth, then...then they might do things better, too.”

“Do you think so, dude?” Sun asked. “I don’t see it.”

Neptune shuffled sideways a little to get a better look at his team leader. “You don’t think so?”

Sun shrugged. “We fight the grimm, and we stop the bad guys; it’s what we went to school for.”

“And the fact that they have an immortal leader doesn’t bother you because-?“

“Because it sounds like all she does is sit around making plans,” Sun said. “Big whoop. None of this changes what we’ve gotta do. Things aren’t any worse today than they were yesterday.”

Nora raised her hand. “I have a question.”

Pyrrha smiled. “You don’t need to raise your hand, Nora.”

“So if this is supposed to be some big secret,” Nora continued, “why are you telling us?”

“Because we need your help,” Jaune said, taking a step forward to stand by Pyrrha’s side. It had been Jaune who had convinced her that they needed to do this: to come clean to her mother and to a select few huntsmen who had proven themselves stalwart and trustworthy. Pyrrha had been uncertain – it hardly seemed what Professor Ozpin would have wanted – but Jaune had insisted upon the point, and his arguments were sound, resting as they did upon the inarguable fact that they could use the assistance. “Professor Ozpin’s dead, Team Sapphire is gone, Team Rosepetal went back to Atlas with General Ironwood, and Professor Lionheart is a traitor. Pyrrha and I are all there is…and I’m not sure that we can do it alone.”

Pyrrha glanced at her mother, curious as to her reaction to hearing him say that; she confessed that she expected a frown of disapproval, perhaps a tut-tutting or a shaken head of distaste. But instead, she saw her mother nod, and for a moment, she even looked slightly approving of the man that her daughter had chosen.

“Which is why we’re telling you the truth,” Pyrrha said. “And asking for your help.”

“Help with what?” Ren asked.

“I…I don’t know,” Pyrrha admitted. “I don’t know what’s coming next or what’s about to happen. It could be nothing, or it could be something terrible. I don’t know…anything. But I would like to know…can I count on you to stand beside us, if need be?”

Nobody replied. Arslan got to her feet. She didn’t look at Pyrrha. She simply muttered, “I need some air.” And then she stalked off towards the balcony, pushing open the doors of frosted glass and stepping out onto the small space, both hands resting upon the ornate metal railings.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, watching her old rival standing out there in the moonlight. Then she took a step forward. “Will everyone please excuse me for just one moment?” she asked, but kept on walking without waiting for a reply, walking across the sitting room out to the little balcony to join Arslan there.

Her fellow gladiator did not object to her company, neither with words nor with a hostile change of posture or expression. They stood in silence, looking out from the lofty heights of the Nikos mansion down upon the city that spread out below them, illuminated in the night by the lights from the houses of the great and the poor alike, by the paper lanterns strung across the streets, by the lanterns born by those who had reason to go about their business after dark.

There were less of the latter than usual, in Pyrrha’s experience. Mistral was quieter tonight than was often the case, and that could not be all explained by winter chill keeping folk indoors. There was a tension in the air that she had been able to sense ever since the battered remnants of the great expedition had returned, and the surviving soldiers stumbled out into the waiting arms of their families and loved ones. The city – the kingdom – was waiting, just as Pyrrha herself was waiting, waiting for something they knew not what, only that it must come in some form. Waiting for whatever would come after this.

“We’ve been rivals for a long time, haven’t we?” Arslan asked, with an almost plaintive tone to her voice.

“Four years,” Pyrrha answered. “No, wait…it’s actually five now, isn’t it?”

“Five years, but only four in active competition,” Arslan said, splitting the difference. She drummed on the metal with her hands. “You know, when I first went up against you, I was so sure I was going to win. I knew about your background, I knew you came from some big fancy family, and I thought to myself ‘she’s all hype and celebrity; I’m the real deal, I’ll show her what it means to fight’. And then I didn’t manage to land a single hit on you.”

“You were unfortunate,” Pyrrha said.

“I was outclassed,” Arslan replied. “Don’t patronise me, Pyrrha, I’ll take your beatings, but I won’t take your condescension.”

“Condescension was not my intent,” Pyrrha murmured. “But I am sorry,” she added, as she bowed her head.

Arslan exhaled through her nostrils. “I kept thinking that I would get you one day, if I worked at it. I thought that I had to get you or I’d never…but then I saw you fight Penny and that…the truth is even before you got magical powers – magical powers! – you were already out of my league. Turns out I was dog barking at the moon this entire time.”

“You are far from that,” Pyrrha said. “And this is not condescension; this is honesty: you are as gifted a fighter as ever Mistral has produced, and I would be honoured to have you by my side. I…I need you by my side, for your skill and your prestige.”

Arslan’s back straightened just a little at that, but she did not immediately respond. “I can’t see my house from here,” Arslan said. “It’s on the wrong side of the mountain. But I can see the place where I grew up.”

“Really?” Pyrrha asked, squinting a little into the darkness.

“Not exactly ‘see’ perhaps, but I can tell you where it is; it’s right down there,” Arslan said, pointing down the hill and a little to the left. “The houses were packed too tightly together, everyone was always in everybody else’s business, there was no privacy, the public park we used to run around in was smaller than the grounds of this house, but it was home. Like this city is home.” She thumped the balcony rail. “Sun’s wrong to say that nothing has changed. I used to think the grimm weren’t that dangerous, I went to Haven for…for a publicity stunt and a chance to compete in the Vytal Festival. I was an idiot.”

“You didn’t know,” Pyrrha said.

“You did,” Arslan countered. “You knew what really mattered even before Ozpin chose you to be part of his secret defenders of the world.” She paused. “Thanks, Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed. “For what?”

“For being honest with me,” Arslan said. “I may not be able to hold a candle to you, but if this Salem wants to bring this city down, she’ll still have to step over my dead body first.” She turned to face Pyrrha. “I’m with you.” Arslan held out her hand, and Pyrrha clasped it warmly.

“I am delighted to have you,” Pyrrha replied, before the two of them turned and went back inside the sitting room.

“We’re in too!” Nora yelled.

Pyrrha smiled. “Thank you both.”

“It wasn’t a difficult decision,” Ren said. “Knowing what we know, how could we turn away?”

“There is always a choice,” Pyrrha said. “No one is bound against their will.”

“It’s not a matter of against our will,” Sun said. “It’s a matter of against our…you know, doing the right thing and stuff. Which means: sure, I’ll help you out.”

“Me too,” Neptune said. “I mean, I guess Sun’s right: defending mankind is defending mankind.”

“Of course I was right,” Sun said.

“It doesn’t happen often enough to merit an ‘of course’.”

“I’m glad that you both feel that way,” Pyrrha said. She glanced at her mother. “Mother?”

Lady Nikos looked up into her daughter’s eyes. “What would you have me say? It seems as though your own decisions are made already.”

“Nevertheless, I would have your thoughts,” Pyrrha said.

Lady Nikos hesitated a moment before she said, “I confess myself torn between my pride at you being chosen as our champion in this hidden war against the darkness and my somewhat displeasure that you kept this from me as long as you did.”

“It is a secret, mother,” Pyrrha reminded her. “Which means…and I apologise, this must seem very hypocritical, that I would prefer it if you did not tell your own families or friends or even teammates about what we have told you.”

“That’s smart,” Neptune acknowledged. “I wouldn’t trust my mother with some of this stuff.”

“With luck, they’ll never have to know,” Arslan said.

“I understand the concept of secrecy,” Lady Nikos declared. “I am merely unused to having it applied to me. To learn that we face a great enemy is somewhat disconcerting, to learn that you fight against that enemy is likewise a little shocking. And yet...it is far from unworthy of our line.”

Lady Nikos clasped her hands together, resting her chin upon them. “Many wars did our ancestors fight, first to expand their dominions and later to defend them. My great-grandfather waged a war on which the fate of Remnant’s kingdoms turned. But this...you tell me that this is a war that has raged since history began and in which the fate of humanity itself hangs in the balance. In which case, I cannot deny that it is fitting that you, the fairest flowering of our line in many a generation, should be the one to fight in it. I think that our ancestors – and your father – would be as proud of you as I am.”

“Thank you, mother.” Pyrrha sighed with relief. “Then we have your support?”

“You are my heir; you would have my support as a matter of course,” Lady Nikos said. “If I knew what you would have my support in doing. What do you intend now?”

Pyrrha glanced away from her mother, her gaze flitting across all the other people in the room, coming to rest on Jaune, upon whom her gaze lingered for a moment.

"Another village was attacked today; did you all know that?" she asked, her voice soft and touched with melancholy. "It was destroyed by the grimm. Where are the huntsmen, and what is the Council doing to protect the kingdom?"

"If..." Neptune began. "If Professor Lionheart is a traitor, then perhaps he..."

"He couldn't get away with that, could he?" Arslan said. "Someone would have noticed."

"The Council doesn't appear to care about villages under attack," Ren declared, in a voice that had a little hint of a growl in it. "Why would they care about missing huntsmen?"

"It doesn't matter," Pyrrha said. "Or, well, of course it does matter, but it isn't the point. The point is...the point is that if the Council will not act to protect the kingdom, then...then I think that we must. Mistral is under attack, grimm and bandits alike emboldened by the perception of weakness. I went to Beacon so that I could protect the world as a huntress; I think it's time that I started to do so."

"The seven of us?" Neptune asked. "Defending the whole kingdom?"

"The eight of us will know everything," Jaune explained. "But we wouldn't say no to extra hands to help defend Mistral."

"You want to raise an army," Arslan said.

"'Army' is an exaggeration of what we have in mind," Pyrrha said. "More like a company: huntsmen, tournament fighters, duellists, people who have been trained in combat and the use of aura. I'm not proposing to lead untrained people into battle, not again. I'm not proposing to lead anyone into battle."

Lady Nikos' eyebrows rose, but it was Arslan who spoke, "That isn't what it sounded like just a moment ago."

Pyrrha hesitated. "I'm not a leader. At Vale...I failed."

"You said it yourself; this isn't an army," Arslan said. "You're talking about people who can handle themselves, not conscripts who can barely hold a gun."

"I'm talking about people who don't need me to lead them."

"Then who will?" Arslan asked.

"Jaune is our strategist-"

"No offence to Jaune, but huntsmen and tournament fighters are not going to follow your boyfriend into battle," Arslan said. "Pyrrha, you know as well as I do that if we go to Oceana or Hector or Metella with this, they're going to say 'who's Jaune Arc, and why should I listen to him?'" She cringed. "I really don't mean to offend you, Jaune, it's just the way it is."

"I know," Jaune said. "I...I agree. Pyrrha, I'll direct the battles if you want me to, but you're the one with the name and the reputation here, not me. You're the one that everybody trusts. And besides, if someone else leads, someone who doesn't know everything that we know, then it will make it that much harder for us to do what we need to. If we need to."

"Traitor," Pyrrha said playfully.

One corner of Jaune's mouth turned upwards. "Sorry."

Pyrrha looked around the room. "Is that what you all want?" she asked. "Are you all willing to follow me and fight beside me in defence of Mistral?"

Arslan pressed her palms together and bowed. "I pledge myself into the service of Pyrrha Nikos. My strength is yours, and thine honour is mine."

Ren got to his feet. "I pledge myself into the service of Pyrrha Nikos. My strength is yours, and your honour is mine."

"Yeah! What he said!" Nora cried, making a V for victory gesture with her fingers.

"I pledge myself into the service of Pyrrha Nikos," Neptune said, as he got off his chair to kneel before her. "To speak as you bid me, to fall silent as you bid me, to come and to go as you bid me, to do as you bid me, until my lady release me or death take me or the world end. My strength is yours, and thine honour is mine."

Sun looked at his friend and partner strangely. "Uh, me too, I guess."

"I pledge myself-" Jaune began.

"No," Pyrrha said, her voice soft but as unyielding as steel. "Not you." You are not my retainer. You are so much more than that.

Pyrrha closed her eyes. A sigh escaped her lips half a step ahead of the words that she must speak to seal this compact. "Humbly I accept thy strength and vow to spend it wisely," she said. "Graciously, I cloak thee in mine honour and vow to burnish it with the deeds I shall do and shall demand of thee. I, Pyrrha Nikos, hear thy words and shall not forget, nor fail to reward that which is given. I accept you all into my service."

---

Present Day...

The mayor of Leuctris wore an ornate gold medallion on a red ribbon hung from his neck, which dangled down as he pressed one fist into his other palm and bowed to Pyrrha. "My lady, you have the gratitude of the entire village."

Pyrrha raised one hand as a nervous laugh escaped her lips. "Please, sir, I am no lady, and your gratitude is more richly deserved by others of our company than myself."

The mayor looked up at her. "As my gratitude stands for that of the village so, in this, you stand for all your followers, of course."

"Of course," Pyrrha murmured, yet she could not help but think that some of them might perhaps have rather received some gratitude in their own persons. "I'm just glad that we could be of assistance to you and your village."

The mayor straightened his back, though he was still not quite so tall as Pyrrha. "I am grateful that someone was willing to render us assistance, lady."

"I am..." Pyrrha trailed off, recognising that she could probably insist all she liked without getting very far. "Has no one else offered you any aid? Did you approach anyone else?" With the CCT network down, the means by which Pyrrha and her comrades came across villages in need of protection - and willing to shelter beneath theirs - was by necessity rudimentary and primitive. They tried their best to spread the word of what they were doing, but they were largely reliant upon the villages themselves seeking out their aid, at which point they would set up a few defences - inadequate against large scale assault, unfortunately, but even that was proving a drain upon their resources - and a jury-rigged communications relay so that said village could contact them in case of an emergency. Some villages sought them out eagerly; others only came to Pyrrha's door when they could get nowhere with anyone else. Pyrrha cared not; they were all equally in need of protection from bandits and the grimm alike.

"I went to Mistral myself," the mayor said, "but a Council functionary told me that there were no resources to squander upon precautionary measures. I confess, Lady, that my first call after was MARS and then Rutulian Security; both asked for more than we could have afforded to pay. Only then did I come to you."

Pyrrha pursed her lips together. She was not altogether surprised to hear that of MARS, but she had hoped - a faint hope, perhaps, but a hope nonetheless - that Turnus would have had more of a sense of noblesse oblige at a time when the kingdom was under siege. "As I said, sir, I am glad we could help."

"My great-grandfather," the mayor went on, "recalled the days before the war, when we sent a tithe of our wealth to Lord Vasilias in Mistral in exchange for this protection; that was before the monarchy fell."

"Of course," Pyrrha said.

"Now we pay rent on our homes and farms to the Vasilias family, and more than a tithe in taxes to the Council, and what protection do we receive in recompense?" the mayor demanded. He shook his head. "Things cannot continue thus."

"They will not, I hope," Pyrrha said, though whether that hope was every bit as vain or more so than her hope in Turnus' sense of nobility, she could not say. Surely it could not continue thus, these grimm attacks and bandit raids. Surely the bandits would be diminished in numbers, and their courage melt away as they realised that Mistral was not so vulnerable or defenceless as they had believed. As for the grimm, had not Salem won enough at Vale? And if not, then what did she gain by this? Would she not tire of these games or else run out of grimm to squander in them? Would not peace return to these lands? "Though it seems that we labour now in darkness, I believe the light shall return."

"But the conduct of our masters in the darkness will not be forgotten," the mayor warned her. "Nor will the fact that it was you and your bold-hearted companions who stepped forth to defend the kingdom when no other would."

"I am a huntress, sir," Pyrrha replied. "What else can I do?"

"If all who bore that title felt that way, we might not tremble as we do," the mayor said gravely.

"I will not defend the inaction of the Council," Pyrrha said, "but I will tell you that at least the Vasilias family came to your aid today." She pointed down the street to where Neptune stood, chatting with one of the village girls. "The young man with the blue hair and the red jacket; that is Neptune Vasilias, son of Lady Gaia and one of my most trusted companions."

"Ah!" the mayor cried, his face lighting up a little. "I will go and pay my respects to him, but first, lady, what now?"

"We will repair your defences and install some new ones," Pyrrha said. "In case grimm or brigands return to this place. And..." she hesitated, because she never liked this part even as she acknowledged the necessity of it. "May our photographer please take some pictures around your village? No one will be photographed without their permission, but we do need to publicise ourselves and our efforts." Not only would greater publicity of the fact that they existed hopefully encourage more fearful villages to seek them out, but at the same time...what Pyrrha and the rest were doing was not strictly forbidden, but it was not expressly permitted either. Huntsmen rarely formed large combinations outside of the Academy system and for good reason: even a modest force of huntsmen and the like such as Pyrrha now led was probably one of the mightiest forces in arms in Mistral right now. That was why Arslan had been so insistent that they needed to publicise themselves, to make clear what they were about and defuse any questions about their goals or loyalties. So a young Atlesian photography student named Photo Finish, who had been travelling around Mistral when she got caught up in one of their first battles, documented the aftermaths of their engagements - Pyrrha refused to allow her to venture from the airship while the fighting was still going on - while the playwright, humourist and essayist Autumn Blaze blogged ever so slightly exaggerated tales of their adventures. It was ironic, but after years of trying to run away from her fame, Pyrrha now found herself in great need of the good opinion and respect of the general populace.

"Of course, my lady," the mayor said. "Feel free. If that is the only way that we can repay you, then be our guest." He paused. "Are you certain that is the only way that we can repay you? We could not afford the fees of MARS or Rutulian Security, but-"

"That's very generous of you, sir, but quite unnecessary," Pyrrha assured him. Perhaps she ought to have taken his money; perhaps she ought to have taken money from the other villages which offered it; the resources of her family were not unlimited, and perhaps it was no different from taking donations from the general public via the crowdfunding page that Arslan had set up for them. But it felt different; it felt wrong to take money from what were often not particularly prosperous villages in exchange for protecting them from the evil she was, in any case, pledged to oppose. This was her duty as a huntress - and as a Nikos, if that didn't sound unbearably pretentious - and it felt wrong to charge those so much less fortunate than herself to do it. "And besides, you'll need all your resources to repair the damage to your village, I'm sure."

The mayor bowed his head. "If my lady insists. I will leave you to your work."

"Thank you, sir," Pyrrha acknowledged. She left him then, walking down the damaged street, her boots tapping upon the loose cobblestones. Pyrrha's battle dress had changed a little since she returned from Beacon, although the basic elements of it would have been familiar to Ruby or Sunset or anyone else who had known her there. She had exchanged the brown of her opera gloves, her boots, and of her cuirass, for black versions of the same, although there were a few more gold highlights upon the cuirass than there had been before. It also encompassed more of her; instead of being strapless the cuirass now embraced her shoulders in black leather, albeit leaving plenty of space for her to move her arms as she desired, but reaching as far as the gorget around her throat into which it blended seamlessly; meanwhile the boob window was covered by a gauzy mesh that rendered it only translucent while at the same time offering some protection. The colour black had also taken over the band around her arm, but the golden circlet still gleamed bright upon her brow, and the scarlet sash still hung from about her waist, even as both her arms were now embraced by gilded vambraces, and golden rings bound up the strands of hair that fell of either side to frame her face. Pyrrha walked down the street, her weapons slung across her back, and looked down at her hands. Once again her maiden powers had nearly gotten away from her in the heat of the moment; once more she had almost exposed herself. She needed to get a grip, but it was difficult: there was no one to teach her how to use these abilities, nor were there any books on the matter she could consult. She was trying to find her way on her own, fumbling in the dark and not having a great deal of success with it.

But that was a problem for later. For now, there was work to be done.

The huntsmen got to work, setting up new sentry guns around the perimeter of the settlement in case danger should return to this place; they all assembled around the downed mech while Sun and Neptune held up a Mistralian flag - lest anyone forget whose side they were on - while Photo Finish, using a real camera instead of her scroll for better results, took a few pictures of them posed on top of or gathered around their prize before they cleared it out of the street and broke it violently up into parts that the villages could sell for scrap to fund the repairs they needed. Pyrrha and her comrades couldn't stay to effect all of those repairs, but they did gather wood from the nearby forest and erect a crude palisade as a deterrent against opportunists. And as they worked, the camera of Photo Finish was pointed everywhere, documenting everything and everyone, capturing the damage wreaked on the village in the course of the battle and the efforts of the huntsmen to repair it. They were not making the village secure by any means - if another bandit clan appeared or another swarm of grimm emerged from the woods, then Pyrrha and the others would be back here again - but they were leaving it safer than they had found it and ensuring that the village would be able to hold out just a little longer until they could arrive. It was for that reason that they left the weapons discarded by the bandits, and Pyrrha and Neptune gave brief demonstrations on how to use them to any villager who wished. Again, it might deter the opportunistic or buy them a little more time for help to come.

It was all they could do before they boarded the airships and began the return flight back to Mistral.

"Jaune," Pyrrha said, as she slung herself into the airship, "we're all done here. We're coming home."

"That's great to hear," Jaune replied into Pyrrha's ear, with relief evident in his voice. "I'll roll out the welcome for you."

Pyrrha groaned softly. "I'd rather you didn't."

"We don't do it on purpose," Jaune said. "We can't help it if people follow us down to the docking pads."

"You could not go and wait for me at home," Pyrrha suggested.

"No, I couldn't," Jaune said earnestly. "Sacrifice, remember?"

Pyrrha sighed. "Yes," she admitted, as the airship began to lift off the ground and into the air. "I remember."

Pyrrha sat upon the edge of the central bay of her airship, one leg dangling out over the empty air, listening to the thrum of the propeller blades behind her as wind gently blew against her face and the verdant kingdom spread out around her.

Arslan sat down beside her, both legs dangling over the edge. "Something on your mind?"

"This is a beautiful country, isn't it?" Pyrrha asked, as they flew over it: the wild forests with their lush, tangled trees; the sapphire streams swiftly flowing by beneath them; the farmers' cottages with smoke rising from the chimneys while the fields around awaited springtime and the plough; the meadows where the wild deer grazed, scattering as the airships flew overhead only to return again as they passed by. "This land would be perfect if not for the grimm...and the malice of a few."

"Fewer now, thanks to us," Arslan said. "But yes," she added, as they passed over a flock of sheep watched over by a shepherd and a pair of faithful dogs. "It is beautiful. I remember when I was a kid, my parents would take me to visit my grandfather out beyond the city. He was a shepherd just like that guy we just flew over. I used to love it, and not just because it got me out of the city, not just because I thought the sheep were cute either. I liked the open spaces, how alive it was. This...this is a place worth fighting for."

"It is beautiful," Ren allowed, from where he stood in the middle of the airship's bay, looming over them just a little. "But at the same time, it is so delicate. These villages we fight for stand ever but a hair's breadth from destruction."

Pyrrha looked up at him. "I know," she said, "but that is why we fight for them."

Ren regarded her for a moment, his expression stoical, before he gave her a nod, and looked away.

They were approaching Mistral by now, passing over the farms that spread out all around the mountain city, the fields and orchards fed by the many rills that flowed down and outwards from the mountainside; and beyond that, emerging into view as they passed through the clouds that shielded her from sight, Mistral itself set tall and proud upon the mountain slope, descending in steps downwards from the lofty palace towards the valleys all around.

Many times had Pyrrha flown out from Mistral these past months, and many times had she flown back again, yet all the same, the sight of the city - her city - never failed to move her, just as she never failed to watch as her home came into view upon the homeward flight.

There was much about the way that things had fallen out that she did not like - there was much about the way that things had fallen out that grieved her sorely - but Pyrrha was glad that circumstances had fallen out in such a way as to allow her to return here, Fall Maiden or no. This was the city built by her ancestors and defended by them over long aeons past. How could she do less than defend it in her turn, as they had done? Where should she place her standard if not here? If the battle did not end, if something close to the normal that she had grown up in never returned, if this time was not an aberration but a new normal, then...then though she spent her life embroiled in combat, at least she would spend it here, in the city that had a claim upon her heart.

I only wish Sunset and Ruby were here to fight beside me.

"Hey, look!" Nora cried. "The others are back too!"

Pyrrha turned her head, getting up and crossing the bay to the other side of the airship to where Nora was pointing; sure enough, she could see a small swarm of airships emerging out of the clouds, like their group heading home for Mistral; they were the group that Pyrrha had led to Elis for their other battle of the day. She could see Violet waving from out of one of the craft. A sigh of relief escaped her at the knowledge that they had returned home safely.

The two groups joined together, two flocks merging to make a greater whole; and as one whole, they descended upon the docking pads of Mistral.

Jaune was waiting for her there. So was her mother. So, in a somewhat less welcome sight, were a great throng of well-wishers and supporters who filled the air up with their cheering as the airships came down.

"Arslan," Pyrrha said softly, "I know that you believe it is important to have public opinion on our side to stave off suspicion; but do you ever worry that we've gone a little too far?"

Arslan looked at her like she was just a little touched in the head. "You think there can be such a thing as too popular?"

"I'm not sure," Pyrrha murmured, "but I wonder what the council and the great families must think when they hear these cheers."

"They can think what they like," Arslan declared breezily. "With support like this, we're untouchable." She tilted her head back so that she was looking up at Pyrrha, a slightly cheeky grin on her face. "Just pretend it's FanExpo or something."

"Believe me," Pyrrha replied. "I am." She put on her mask of celebrity, subsuming Pyrrha Nikos beneath the veneer of the Invincible Girl, the Princess Without a Crown, the Champion of Mistral, and all the rest, a smile on her face as she waved - Arslan was waving too, from where she stood in front of her - to the adoring crowds as the throng of airships descended onto the docking pads to disgorge their cargos of warriors with rapturous reception.

"Another victory?" a voice cried out from the press of applauding onlookers.

"Two," Pyrrha replied, raising her voice a little to be heard as she dismounted from the airship. People were taking pictures of her, taking pictures of all of them, scrolls flashing into her eyes which she tried to ignore.

"Two!" the same voice shouted. "Two victories for the Myrmidons!"

Pyrrha waved once or twice more as she made her way to the edge of the docking pad. Towards Jaune. She allowed the mask to slip as she ran the last few steps to him and flung her arms around him, kissing him quickly and gently, her lips brushing against his, nothing unsuitable for public consumption. A few people nearby cheered, while one extremely rude person booed. Pyrrha did her best to ignore them.

"I'm glad to be home," she said.

"Yeah, I figured," Jaune replied. "I'm glad you made it okay."

"I'm glad everyone made it okay," Pyrrha said. She turned to her mother, bowing her head. "Mother."

"Do not bow to me, no longer," Lady Nikos said quickly. "Mistral's pride should bow to no one." She held out her hands. "Congratulations upon another victory. Upon two more victories. The Kingdom of Mistral is a little safer, thanks to your efforts." The fact that a few people cheered that too suggested that her mother was not entirely above playing to the crowd.

Of course, she was once a tournament fighter herself.

She felt Jaune slip his hand into hers. "Home?" he suggested.

Pyrrha nodded. "Home," she repeated.

"Make way!" a voice from the crowd urged his fellows. "Make way for the heroes of Mistral! Make way for the champion!"

The crowd did obey and did part, a way forming through the press of well-wishes for Pyrrha to begin to make her way homeward, accompanied by her mother and by Jaune and followed by all her comrades who fought alongside her.

And on either side of them, the masses pressed, cheering.

---

Pyrrha Nikos had been born to leadership, but she was not a leader. All the virtue of Mistral and all its proud and ancient history flowed through her veins, but that had not made her the sort of leader of men that Mistral had produced in times long past. She was the descendant of heroes, emperors, and warlords but, though it seemed she had inherited their skill at arms - and though she had, she hoped, inherited the qualities of character that had animated the best of them - she had not inherited the qualities of leadership that had enabled those same ancestors to carve out a great empire and bring a fractious land together under the cloak of peace and the rule of war. It was unfortunate that at a time when Mistral had need of a Juno, it had instead one of Pyrrha's lesser calibre. Daughter of the Empress Pyrrha the Second, Juno had been given by her father to a kindly shepherd and his wife to raise in secret as their own child; when her true parentage had been revealed, she had raised an army from amongst the common people and retaken Mistral from the Red Queen's heirs; it was said that command had sat upon her shoulders as naturally as armour. Sunset had told her, before she had taken leave of her former leader and returned home, that it was all up to her now, and that...that was honestly a little terrifying. She had power, yes, the power of the Fall Maiden - unskilled with it as she was - which she could call upon in the greatest extremity, but only now that they were gone had Pyrrha become truly conscious of the way in which she had relied upon others to direct her martial energies towards the greater, even the greatest, good. And now all those on whom she had relied were gone, and there was only her, only a Pyrrha Nikos whose inadequacies in these regards only became clearer to herself with every day that passed. All gone save only Jaune, dear Jaune, without whom she would have been truly lost, but while Jaune could plan their battles, he could not tell what Salem would do next or how they could or should or might oppose it. The world needed the wisdom of Professor Ozpin; instead, it had Pyrrha. The world needed the daring and resolve of Sunset Shimmer; instead, it had Pyrrha.

If I had been locked up and Sunset were here, then Remnant would be the better for it, Pyrrha thought.

But it was not so, and it was not to be. And it was no good saying that she was not a leader as an excuse for not trying to show any sort of leadership, and so, with each battle concluded, Pyrrha made a point to visit each of the huntsmen and gladiators who fought for her and see that all was well with them at the close of another day. Sometimes, all was not well, and sometimes, what was unwell was nothing that Pyrrha could help with, but nevertheless, she felt that simply being there, simply listening, was something that a leader would do.

And so she began upon the roof of her great house, where she found Yatsuhashi Daichi sitting atop the roof tiles of dull ochre with his great, trunk-like arms wrapped around his legs; he was sitting so still, and so little light fell upon him in the night, that he seemed almost like a kind of guardian statue, one of the household gods who watched over the family. Pyrrha picked her way towards him, treading carefully upon the roof tiles, following his gaze upwards to the shattered moon that hung so big and so brightly in the sky tonight.

Yatsuhashi heard her approach, his head turning towards her. "Lady Pyrrha," he said, starting to rise to his feet.

"Please," Pyrrha said, holding up one hand to stay his progress. "Don't get up, and please don't call me 'Lady Pyrrha' either; Pyrrha is fine." Though I've been asking people to stop doing that for some time now, and it hasn't stopped them yet. She smiled. "I was wondering if I might join you for a moment."

Yatsuhashi nodded, gesturing to the space beside him with one large hand. "Be my guest," he said in a voice soft and gentle. Yatsuhashi had the physical appearance of a mountain bear, but you didn't have to know him particularly well to discover that he had the heart of a stuffed bear within.

"Thank you," Pyrrha murmured, as she sat down next to him. Her gilded greaves gleamed softly in the moonlight. From this vantage point she could see the grounds of the estate spread out around her and, on those grounds, some of her comrades celebrating their latest victory, but Pyrrha did not turn her eyes down to earth for very long, but rather followed Yatsuhashi's example in turning her sight up to heaven, where the moon was so bring tonight that all the nearby stars were dimmed and invisible as though they had been snuffed out. "The moon is very beautiful tonight," Pyrrha murmured.

"I suppose it is," Yatsuhashi murmured.

"You don't think so?" Pyrrha asked, a little surprised.

"No, I...I suppose I do," Yatsuhashi said. He was silent for a moment. "I wonder how brightly it shines on Vale tonight."

Pyrrha understood. She understood very well indeed. "Your teammates?"

Yatsuhashi nodded. "I look up at the moon and I think that if Velvet and Coco and Fox were to look up right now, then...then they would be looking at the same moon as I am, and we would still be connected." He fell silent a moment. "Foolish of me."

"I don't think so," Pyrrha said. "It's poetic, and there is much truth in such things. Truth of the heart, if nothing else." She too, fell silent as she looked up at that glimmering, fragmented orb, wondering whether Sunset's cell had a window - and facing in the right direction - that would enable her to look up and see the moon tonight; if Ruby might look up out of her bedroom window and see it too. Did it shine so bright on Vale as it did here? Loomed it so large in the Valish sky? Could they see it so in Atlas, which seemed so much further off even than Vale? Could Penny and Blake and their other friends of RSPT see it too, in Atlas? Might they be bound together still, by all looking at the same moon? She hoped so, however foolish-fond a hope it was. "You miss them."

Yatsuhashi nodded slowly. "Time and distance...I remember, in my head, that as a team we were far from perfect. But in my heart..."

Pyrrha smiled softly. "You only remember the good things."

Yatsuhashi shook his head. "It is more than that. It is that...even the things that I remember bothered me at the time seem in my memory...good to me now. Coco's bossiness, her pride...it charms me in my memory, like a precocious little sister." He smiled. "The way that Fox was always willing to cut her down to size, or try to...although even the fact that he could never seem to make it stick seems hilarious to me now. And Velvet, when I remember how adorably annoyed she would become whenever she thought we were not taking her seriously as an equal...I shouldn't have left them."

"You had no choice," Pyrrha reminded him, and at the same time reminded herself. “The mood in Vale was turned against outsiders, and Mistral needed all her children home.”

"Fox stayed,” Yatsuhashi declared, a bitterness in his voice. “Vacuo is not Mistral, I know, and often overlooked, but...if I could not stay with them there then I should have insisted that they come with me.”

I would have. I did. But they both refused me. "They would have been welcome here," Pyrrha said softly, for they could use all the fighters they could get.

"I know," Yatsuhashi agreed, "but...according to Coco, Vale needed them more than I did, and they were not the kind to walk away."

Pyrrha hesitated, before she reached out and placed a hand on Yatsuashi's giant shoulder. "I do not know how long this darkness will endure," she admitted, "but I am certain that it will not last forever."

Yatsuhashi looked at her. "You are certain."

Pyrrha nodded, endeavouring to sound more certain than she felt. "We will prevail," she said. "Through our skill and courage, we will break the siege of our kingdom and drive back both grimm and bandits, and when we do...I hope that in that time, the world will have become a saner place, as we are used to. And when it does, we will return to Vale and see our friends again."

"If they yet live."

"They will," Pyrrha insisted, conjuring with a hope that did not burn so brightly in her own heart. "They must live, strong and skillful as they are." Or so we must hope, for without hope...

Yatsuhashi paused a moment before he inclined his head in agreement. "As you say," he murmured. "I must remember what excellent huntsmen they are. Thank you, Pyrrha."

"Any time," Pyrrha replied in a gentle tone as she rose to her feet. She left him there, still sitting upon her roof, looking up at the moon which might bind him through threads of fate no less real for being invisible to his far off friends.

Pyrrha took one last look up at the moon herself and asked its blessing upon all her own dear companions, that they might stay safe until by some miracle they might meet again, though all the powers of Salem stood between them. And then she turned away and descended back into the house to search for more of her comrades.

As she walked down the steps that led to and from the roof, she saw Team JHAL – pronounced Jalapeno, because sometimes, when it came to team names, you took what you could get - not far away, standing in the middle of the otherwise empty top-floor landing, engaged in some kind of discussion.

Most of them were engaged in some kind of discussion, anyway; their leader, Jade Charn, was standing a little to one side from the rest of her teammates, eating those sweets called iokum that she loved so much but which nobody else Pyrrha knew could stand. Hector Troy stood in the centre of the hallway, and it looked as though he was on the receiving end of some rough words from his teammate Alkim Khojaeva, which he appeared to be taking shamefacedly, while the fourth and final member of the team, Lauren Fey, smirked at his discomfort.

“Is everything alright?” Pyrrha asked as she walked slowly towards them, the floorboards creaking ever so slightly under her tread.

Lauren Fey was an androgynous figure, as fey in form and face as their name suggested, who wore their long dark hair brushed back behind their ears and dressed in a dazzlingly colourful – and somewhat bewildering to look upon – riot of colours that were hard to look at for any length of time before started to get a headache. It was much easier to look at their face, for all the smirk was nigh-omnipresent on their face. “Oh, yes, everything’s fine,” they said. “In fact, it’s better than fine. Our dear Hector has had some excellent news, haven’t you?”

Alkim huffed. She was a horse faunus, not a pony faunus like so many seemed to be, but a horse, with equine legs emerging from out of her meticulous embroidered pants ending in hooves resting upon the floorboards. She was dressed in the traditional garb of the plains, black with shades of red masterfully embroidered upon it and a headdress that concealed her hair from view. “You shouldn’t joke about things like this,” she said sharply.

“I joke about everything,” Lauren replied.

“That doesn’t mean you should,” Alkim informed him.

“Hector?” Pyrrha asked. “What’s going on?”

Hector was a tall young man, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and a beard that made him look older than the eighteen years he shared with Pyrrha and his teammates. He was clad in a cuirass of bronze armour, but he nevertheless looked vulnerable against the hostility of Alkim and the amusement of Lauren. His face was red, and he scratched at his beard. “My girlfriend…she’s…with child. My child.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose, disappearing a little behind her bangs. “Congratulations?” she offered weakly.

“It’s not something that either of us wanted to happen,” Hector mumbled.

“Oh,” Pyrrha murmured. She was beginning to wish that she hadn’t gotten involved in this conversation. “I…I see. Are you…are you going…do you mean to…keep it?”

It seemed to take Hector a moment to realise what she meant. “Yes,” he said firmly. “That…has already been decided. What I have to decide is…what I should do next.”

“How about the decent thing?” Alkim suggested acerbically.

“It isn’t always that simple,” Pyrrha said gently. Although there are times when I wish it was. Sometimes, you just have to be patient and wait for a man to come to an understanding of what is expected of him on his own; if you love him, that isn’t too difficult.

Although, I suppose it may be harder if you are suddenly put into a delicate situation like this.

“Indeed, it isn’t,” Lauren agreed. “Sometimes, the girl has a scary father.”

“It isn’t her father that concerns me,” Hector snapped. “It’s everything else.”

Jade popped another piece of iokum into her mouth. She was swathed in a cloak of green, trimmed with white fur at the collar and hem, and her hands, one of which emerged from the recesses of the cloak to pluck sweets from the bag she held in her other hand, were concealed beneath white, fur-trimmed gloves. Her lips were painted a rich rouge. She scowled, and those rouged lips turned downwards. “He’s thinking of leaving the team,” she informed Pyrrha.

Pyrrha’s mouth opened for a moment. “Oh,” she said. “I see.” That would be a loss; she had come across Hector on the tournament circuit before leaving for Beacon; he was a solid fighter, and he would be missed.

“I appreciate what you’re doing here, Pyrrha,” Hector said. “I appreciate what we’re all doing here. But at the same time…how can I ask Andromache to marry me as I am now? I cannot support a wife in this condition.”

“No,” Pyrrha was forced to agree. She was not only a poor leader but a poor lord as well; she might keep warriors in her hall, but she did not – could not – reward their valour with gifts of gold and land as the sword-lords of old had given to their loyal retainers. She was no ring-giver. “I quite understand; you must do what you must, what is best for your family. No one will think any the less of you if you leave.”

Hector snorted. “I will think less of me, and be shamed before all these gallant folk of Mistral besides. And in any case, what would I do outside of your service? I am no true huntsman; outside this house, I could not work or act as one.”

That was another uncomfortable truth. Professor Lionheart had gone into hiding - according to Councillor Ward, he attended council meetings remotely, from a location he would not divulge - and Pyrrha’s relations with him would have been strained regardless. As a result, neither she nor Jaune nor any of the other students who had joined her in this fight had officially graduated from a combat academy as huntsmen and huntresses; it was something else that made their position so precarious from a legal standpoint.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I have involved you in this struggle-“

“To save our kingdom and our homes,” Alkim finished for her, cutting her off. “You owe us no apology for that, or for asking our assistance in a noble venture. You owe no apology to the villages that are safe because of us.”

“Indeed not,” Hector said. “That…that is the third horn of my dilemma. You see…Andromache lives in Thebes.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said softly. “You were gone a few weeks ago…visiting her, wasn’t it?” Her eyes widened. “Is that-?”

“Probably,” Hector acknowledged. “The point is-“

It was Pyrrha’s turn to finish a sentence. “That Thebes is one of the settlements that we protect.”

“Could it be that I can do more to keep Andromache and our child safe here, fighting alongside you, than I could living with her?” Hector asked. “One huntsman who is not even a real huntsman could not protect a whole town, but this force that you have built…”

“Could they not move to Mistral where it is safer?” Pyrrha asked.

Hector shook his head. “Her father is a stubborn old man.”

Pyrrha nodded. “We will continue to do what we can to protect Thebes and every other town and village to call on us for aid,” she promised, “but only you can decide what is best for you and your family.”

“I know it well enough,” Hector replied. “If only I knew when this would end? It will end, will it not?”

“What if it doesn’t?” Jade suggested. “What if it is a winter that lasts forever? Always winter but never the holidays.” She popped another iokum into her mouth and began to chew on it.

“Then we’ll fight all through winter, for those who can’t fight for themselves,” Alkim declared.

“We cannot fight this war forever,” Lauren said, in a tone unusually earnest for them.

“Nor would I ask you to,” Pyrrha assured them all, “but…I confess I cannot say when it will stop.”

“Can you promise that it will stop?” Lauren asked.

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “It must, in the end, if we hold fast,” she said, which was…not quite a lie, but probably not the answer Lauren was looking for. “Hector,” she added, “fear no judgement or disapproval. In your position…you and Andromache must decide your way forwards. Know that, whatever your decision, I am grateful for your valiant assistance.” She smiled. “And congratulations! You’re about to become a father!”

Hector let out a bark of laughter. “Yes. Yes, I am, aren’t I?”

“And he only just worked it out,” Lauren muttered.

“I’m about to become a father!” Hector repeated, louder now and with more enthusiasm.

Pyrrha smiled. “I wish you – both of you – all the very best of fortunes, and thank you to all four of you for your efforts today.”

They made way for her, and Pyrrha walked down the landing towards the stairs that led to the next floor of the house.

She was pleased for Hector, and she very much hoped that he came to the best decision for his burgeoning family; which was to say that she hoped he did the decent thing by Andromache. Pyrrha looked down and couldn’t help but wonder what she would do if she were caught in that same situation.

A child - her child, and Jaune's - would be wonderful; it would be a gift from the gods in many ways, but at the same time...was this the right time to bring a child into the world? Could she justify doing so? Could she justify absenting herself from this desperate battle for months on end to carry and nurse a babe? No. No, she thought not, not at this time.

It would be much easier to console myself to that fact if I knew when this would end, Pyrrha could not help but think to herself. If it will ever end. She hoped it would, if not end, then at least ebb; she hoped the fighting would lessen in intensity and return to something like the levels it had been before the Battle of Vale, but if it did not...Or even if it did, then what? There would still be fighting? Would there not always be fighting? The dreams of destiny with which she had once indulged herself and been indulged during her youth - it felt strange and a little perverse to think of herself as having already left her youth behind, but nevertheless, that was how she felt; she was yet young, and yet, she was no longer youthful, or at least she did not feel so - seemed so naive now, and far away. For all the power at her command, for all that she was the Fall Maiden, she no longer imagined that she might cast down all darkness and bring an end to all the fears that blighted the world. The struggle against Salem that had raged before she was born would continue until she was old. Would there ever be a time when she could, safely and in good conscience, stop, lay down her arms, and put her own self and her desire for a family above the needs of Mistral and the world?

Ruby's mother did, when she stood in my position. For a moment Pyrrha rather selfishly wished that she could have talked with that remarkable woman, asked her how she had felt able to take that step, and when...and how she could then tear herself away from her children to return to the fight, which was Pyrrha's other fear.

But I can't ask her, and in any case, even if I could, I'd be far from the first person that she would want to speak to. Besides, Summer Rose was not a Maiden, as far as I know. Pyrrha had sought this power, perhaps this was simply the consequence of that she had to live with.

Or perhaps I should speak to Jaune about all this before I spin my thoughts out too far. He might have his own thoughts on when they could or should have children, possibly more sensible thoughts than hers. They had discussed it a little, enough to understand that they both wanted children in the abstract, but with the question of when or other such practicalities left unspoken for the moment. They had not discussed the question of marriage at all. Pyrrha did not want to force him - or feel like she had forced him - into any step that he was not inclined to take; surely he would not be happy in such a state, and she would not make him unhappy for all the world. She did not want to nag, to become some sort of romantic comedy harridan pestering him to know when he would marry her or give her children. She loved him enough to be patient with him in this, just as she had been patient in waiting for him to see her standing there. And besides, he was not a Mistralian, and in Vale, she knew, they did things differently; in Vale, it was far from uncommon for a couple to live their whole lives together out of wedlock. She just hoped he understood that she was not a Valish girl.

Pyrrha began to descend the stairs to the next floor of the house, only to find Ditzy Doo sitting on the stairs, about halfway down. A muffin sat on the stair beside her, but right now, she seemed more interested in writing something, with a book on her knees serving as a rest while she scribbled on a piece of paper.

"You know there are plenty of desks or tables that you could use," Pyrrha said. "You might be more comfortable."

Ditzy looked up at her. "It's okay," she said. "It's quiet up here."

Pyrrha chuckled. "I'm sorry," she said. "I won't disturb you any further."

"No, I didn't mean it like that," Ditzy said, wincing just a little. "I'm nearly finished anyway."

She lifted her muffin up and out of the way, tacitly inviting Pyrrha to sit down on the step beside her. Pyrrha took the invitation, tucking her sash over her leg so that it did not spill over onto Ditzy as she sat. "Who are you writing to?" she asked.

"My sisters, back home in Atlas," Ditzy said. "We used to talk all the time, but now that the towers are down..."

"Of course," Pyrrha murmured. "You miss them?"

Ditzy shrugged. "I guess," she said. "I'm glad they're where they are, and not where I am."

"Safe and sound in Atlas," Pyrrha said.

Ditzy nodded. "No offence, but I hope Atlas isn't relying on Rainbow Dash to organise the defences, you know?"

Pyrrha snorted. "Don't worry, I quite understand. More than that, I...I agree with you. The work we do here should not be up to us. The fact that it is..." That fact is cause for shame on Mistral, not glory to ourselves.

"But that doesn't mean it's not good work," Ditzy replied. "And I didn't mean to say it wasn't." She hung her head a little. "I always come out with the wrong thing."

"No, not in this instance," said Pyrrha. "I understand exactly what you meant. Ditzy, may I ask you a question?"

"Uh, sure I guess?"

"Why did you leave Atlas, to come to Haven?"

"Why did you leave Mistral and go to Beacon, Pyrrha?" Ditzy asked in reply.

Pyrrha's lips twitched upwards briefly. "A fresh start. To be seen in a different light. To be Pyrrha, and nothing else."

Ditzy looked at her, her eyes closing for a moment as a gentle smile sat upon her face. "A fresh start," she repeated. "Yeah, I suppose I was looking for one of those, too. Although I wanted to be a little more than just good ol' Ditzy Doo."

Pyrrha frowned. "Is it so terrible to be seen as yourself?"

"Maybe when it doesn't feel like all of yourself," Ditzy lamented. "When nobody thinks that you can do anything, then you can't make them let you try, and...and it wouldn't matter even if they did; they still wouldn't change their minds. I could have been as great as Rainbow Dash, and people still would have looked at me and thought 'yup, good ol' Ditzy'."

Pyrrha nodded. "Opinions, once formed, can be extraordinarily hard to shift." The hero remains a hero, though they bring so much wickedness into the world; the villain remains a villain, though they spend every moment waking seeking to atone for what they did.

"Also..." Ditzy hesitated. The smile slipped off her face, replaced by a look of slightly distant sadness. "There was a boy," she admitted.

"You...were fond of him?"

Ditzy nodded disconsolately. "I was always there, but he never saw me at all.”

Pyrrha sighed sympathetically. "Boys...can be a little dense, sometimes. That's why we girls need to be a little patient sometimes."

Ditzy shook her head. "The girl he chose...she wasn't very nice. She didn't treat him right. In the end...I couldn't keep watching her treat him bad like that; I couldn't keep watching him let her treat him that way. It was easier just to go someplace else." She looked at Pyrrha, or at least she seemed to be looking at Pyrrha. "You're a real lucky girl, you know?"

Pyrrha felt a slight blush rising to her cheeks. "I'm well aware," she murmured. Although thank you for reminding me.

"Do you love him?"

Pyrrha didn't hesitate. "With all my heart."

"Then don't let him get away," Ditzy advised her.

"No," Pyrrha replied. "I've no intention of letting that happen. Did you ever think about going back to Atlas, when the towers went down?"

"Not really," Ditzy said. "I like it here. And besides...I still don't know what I'd do if I ran into him again."

Pyrrha hesitated, unsure of what exactly to say. "I'm glad you decided to stay," she said. "You're a great asset to us here. And who knows, maybe you'll find somebody new."

"Really?" Ditzy asked. "Like who?"

Neptune walked past the staircase, accompanied by Sun; they were talking about something or other, but nevertheless, they noticed Pyrrha and Ditzy on the stairs and stopped.

"Hey, girls," Neptune said. "What's up?"

Pyrrha got to her feet. "We were just talking," she said. "About..." she didn't really want to embarass Ditzy or spill any confidences, so she said, "old friends far away."

A pensive look stole over Sun's face. "Yeah, I think about that a lot, too."

"Blake?" Pyrrha asked.

Sun nodded. "I just...I just can't stop thinking about her, you know."

"Yes," Neptune said. "We do know."

"Every so often, she just pops into my head," Sun continued.

"We know," Neptune repeated, with the air of one who has heard this many times before.

"I'm sure Blake is doing fine in Atlas," Pyrrha said. In fact, she's probably doing a lot better than we are. As Ditzy said - and there was no offence to be taken, because it was perfectly true - Atlas probably wasn't relying on Blake or Rainbow Dash to lead its whole defence against the grimm. If they were even having trouble with the grimm; they might not. Pyrrha just didn't know. News from Atlas had not dried up to the same extent as news from Vale - the grain ships continued to sail north, for all that some in Mistral seemed to wish they wouldn't - and all the reports filtering back, if you could call sailors' gossip and travellers' tales "reports," indicated that while Atlas might have been looking to its own defences, those defences remained strong under General Ironwood's leadership. They were fortunate to have real leaders there; would that Mistral could say the same. There were even rumours of dealings with Menagerie, of ships passing back and forth between the northern and the southernmost continents - some in the villages Pyrrha and her allies protected claimed to have seen said ships passing overhead - but again, too few details to make much of it or to know if it was the sort of thing that ought to be made much of. There was no specific news of Blake or Penny or any of their other friends of RSPT, but Pyrrha hoped that no news was good news, and that if they had fallen it would have caused sufficient stir to reach the ears of someone bound for Mistral. "She has some good friends with her," she added, which was the foundation of her optimism where their Atlesian or Atlas-bound friends were concerned; she had left Sunset and Ruby each all alone with their sorrows, and the guilt of it tormented her, even as it fuelled her fears for them; but Blake and RSPT had left altogether, along with Applejack, and she trusted them to take care of one another. Not that she could do anything but trust.

"I know," Sun acknowledged. "I just wish that I knew, you know?"

Pyrrha smiled. "Do you wish that you'd gone with her to Atlas?"

"He tried," Neptune told her.

Pyrrha hadn't heard this before. "Really?"

"Yeah," Sun muttered, slightly disconsolate. "That Ciel girl put me off the ship. She wasn't mean about it, but she was pretty clear that I shouldn't try again. And then...they were gone."

"Selfishly, I have to admit I'm rather glad," Pyrrha confessed. "Team Sun needs its leader, and we need you."

Sun grinned briefly. "Thanks. You know it says a lot that that counts as selfishness for you."

"Doesn't it for everyone?"

"Who's Blake?" Ditzy asked. "Is she your girlfriend?"

"She's not his girlfriend," Neptune said.

"Dude!" Sun cried in an outraged tone. "She...okay, maybe she isn't, but she would be! If all of this craziness would just stop long enough for me to ask her out."

Pyrrha laughed. "I think you're probably right about that. Or maybe sooner. I don't believe that the Atlesians will be gone forever; they may have withdrawn after the network collapsed, but they'll be back. General Ironwood, Rainbow Dash, Penny; they won't just abandon us."

"You think they'll come riding to our rescue?" Ditzy suggested.

Sun raised one hand. "Now hold on, Ditzy, I wouldn't say that we need a rescue," he said. "It sucks that we have to do all the work, but we're doing okay, right?"

"Thanks to you, and all of us," Pyrrha said. "I'd say we're doing better than okay. But, as much as I may be guilty of lacking proper pride as a Mistralian when I say this, I wouldn't turn my nose up at an Atlesian squadron if it appeared over the horizon."

"You shouldn't talk like that," Neptune said darkly, his tone earnest. "You shouldn't leave being a good Mistralian to the fools who want to start trouble with Atlas."

Pyrrha sighed. She could scarcely believe that even now, after all that had happened at Vale, there were still people in this city who considered Atlas to be their enemy. Fortunately, after the Battle of Vale, there was no appetite for military conflict with Atlas or even Vale - not even from those who alleged that one or both of those kingdoms had stabbed Mistral in the back during the fighting - but there were some calling for an embargo on all food exported to Solitas in an attempt to bring Atlas to its knees. "I hope," she said, "that I haven't so misjudged my fellow citizens that such wild talk will become ascendant here."

"And if it does?" Neptune asked.

"Then what can we do?" Pyrrha responded. "Rebel against our home? No. All we can do is continue to defend the kingdom and use what influence we have to advocate for the peace and cooperation that enriched the world before all of this unpleasantness." She shook her head. "But enough of such heavy talk; it is not fitting for the aftermath of a victory. Please: eat, drink, enjoy yourselves; there's plenty of food downstairs, and I think Autumn is going to sing for us."

"What about you?" Sun said. "Are you coming?"

Pyrrha took a step downwards. "Maybe later," she said. "There are some things I have to do first."

"Suit yourself," Neptune said. "Ditzy, you hungry?"

"Sure," Ditzy said. “You know, Sun, I’m writing a letter to Atlas right now, so if you want to write to Blake, I’ll make sure it gets mailed with mine.”

“Write as in write? By hand?” Sun asked. “I’m not sure if she’d be able to read that, but I guess it might be worth a try. Okay, I’ll see if I can scratch something out, thanks.”

“Any time,” Ditzy said cheerily. "Thanks, Pyrrha!"

"On the contrary, thank you," Pyrrha said to them, as Ditzy joined Sun and Neptune in walking down the corridor towards the next set of stairs, downwards to where the celebrations were taking place in the great hall. Thank you, for your efforts in the field and for so much more.

Pyrrha didn't join them; rather, she let them get a little bit of a head start before she followed in the same direction down the corridor, but only as far as a door halfway down, with an antique suit of armour standing guard just outside of it. The room on the other side of this door had been her father's reading room when he was alive, and for a good many years after too; now, it served Pyrrha and Jaune both as a study. Pyrrha pushed open the door, and as she had expected, she found Jaune there, sitting at a small desk, watching a video on his scroll. It took Pyrrha a moment to recognise it as the drone footage from the day's battles.

Jaune looked up as she came in. There was a weariness under his eyes, but nevertheless, his face brightened at the sight of her. "Hey."

Pyrrha smiled. "Hey," she repeated, as she shut the door behind her. "What happened to the boy I knew who used to read comic books instead of doing his homework?"

Jaune smiled back at her. "He met a girl who inspired him to shape up."

"Oh, really?" Pyrrha replied. "That would be Sunset Shimmer, I presume."

Jaune snorted. "I said inspired him, not intimidated him," he said. He looked down at his scroll and paused the video. "I need to study this while it's still fresh, so I can figure out what I could have done better."

Pyrrha walked across the room to him, circling around the desk and leaning against it, looking down upon him and his work; he had maps of the battlefields on which they had fought spread out on the surface of the desk, with jottings on post-it notes and scraps of paper scattered around. Pyrrha reached out, and brushed one hand lightly through his hair. "These victories belong to you as much as anyone."

Jaune looked up at her, a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. "If that's true, then if we need to keep winning more victories, I can't afford to slack off."

"No," Pyrrha murmured. "I suppose not." She looked away from him and towards the map of Mistral that took up most of the west wall. It was covered with red pins forming three quarters - actually, it was more like four fifths - of a ring around the city; a sliver of land to the south of Mistral had no pins in it whatsoever. Although, that was the territory being defended by the Iron Grenadiers, so it could be that they were getting hit, and Pyrrha simply wasn't aware of the fact.

"They're coming at us from every direction," Pyrrha murmured.

Jaune looked up at the map. "Not everywhere," he said, a touch of sharpness in his voice.

"No," Pyrrha agreed. "Well, not that we know of." I wonder what kind of opposition Rutulian Security is experiencing?

I suppose I shall have to go and ask Turnus about it. That was not something she particularly wanted to do, but for the good of Mistral...others were making far greater sacrifices.

"Sun reminded me of how lucky I am," Pyrrha said, kneeling down so that she was longer looking down on Jaune but at something closer to level with him, even if it meant that she now had to look up at him just a bit. She placed a hand upon his arm. "To have you here."

Jaune looked at her, a smile brightening his face. "You needed Sun to point that out to you?"

Pyrrha rolled her eyes. "I mean...the girl he loves is on another continent, thousands of miles away, and he has no way of knowing...anything about her or how she's doing or even..." the words died in her throat.

"Even if she's still alive," Jaune finished for her, his voice a little hoarse.

"She is," Pyrrha insisted. "She must be. It's Blake, and she's in Atlas." She paused. "But all the same, in spite of that, I...it's very hard on Sun. And - although I couldn't say this to him - it reminded me of how lucky I am to have you right here with me."

Jaune placed his free hand on top of hers. "I'm lucky too," he said.

"Are you?" Pyrrha asked. "Are you really?"

Jaune frowned. "Pyrrha? What do you mean? Why would you ask me that?"

"Because this is my home, not yours," Pyrrha said softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "You left your home behind to come with me and fight for mine. Does that...does it ever bother you?"

"No," Jaune said, with absolute unflinching certainty in his voice.

"No?" Pyrrha repeated.

"No," Jaune insisted, as he got up out of his chair and lifted Pyrrha to his feet. "I miss Ruby, I miss Sunset, I miss not being able to call my family, but...but I don't regret the choice that brought me here, not for a single moment. Mistral might not be where I was born, but that doesn't mean that I've left home behind because my home...my home is wherever you are."

Pyrrha felt her heart melt a little. "Oh, Jaune," she whispered.

"Pyrrha," Jaune began, and for a moment, it seemed that he would say something else; for a moment, Pyrrha dared to hope that he would follow up those romantic words by saying something else, but...he didn't. It was as though whatever he had meant or wanted or intending to say stuck in his throat, and he could not get them out. He seemed embarrassed about something as he turned away from her. "Nothing," he muttered. "How, um, how is everyone?"

"Yatsuhashi is worried about the friends he left behind."

Jaune nodded, as he bent his back and leaned upon the desk with both hands. "We're all worried about the people we left behind."

Pyrrha said nothing. There was nothing left to say on that particular subject. Words and speculation alike had been exhausted to the point that...what was there left to say? They had no idea what was going on in Vale; they didn't know if Ruby or Sunset were still alive or what they were doing if they were alive or...anything. Pyrrha knew Jaune's fears as well as she knew her own, and he knew her guilt over having left them. But that did not make either of them keen to go over it again. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"Hector's going to be a father," she said, to change the subject from the oppressive one of the fates of their friends.

Jaune looked at her, and on his face Pyrrha was slightly amused to behold the mirror of her own initial surprise. "Huh? Seriously?"

"I think...there must have been an accident," Pyrrha put it delicately.

Jaune stared at her for a moment. "Huh. Lucky him, I guess." He paused. "Is it lucky him?"

"I think so," Pyrrha replied. "Once the initial shock had worn off, he seemed...quite pleased."

Jaune nodded, not saying anything for a moment or two. "So...what's he going to do?"

"I don't think he knows, yet," Pyrrha said. "His girlfriend lives in one of the outlying settlements, Thebes; he doesn't know whether he can take care of his family best by being with them or by fighting with us."

"It would be a pity to lose him," Jaune observed.

"It would be a pity to lose anyone," Pyrrha declared. She bowed her head for a moment. "Do you think they're being wise?"

"Huh?"

"Bringing a child into the world at a time like this?" Pyrrha explained. "Do you think...would they be better off waiting, until things are better? If they ever get better."

"It will," Jaune said, his voice slightly tremulous. "It has to."

Pyrrha closed her eyes. "What if it doesn't?" she asked quietly. "What if I can't make it better? There are times...it feels like all we're doing is holding the line."

"What if that's enough?" Jaune said. "Even if that's all we can do, isn't that a great thing? People are alive because of us, because of you. Maybe we're not perfect at this, but...come on, Pyrrha, we're eighteen! Where the hell are all the grown-ups? We're doing the best we can, and I think we're doing a pretty damn good job considering that this shouldn't even be our job." He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close so that her head was resting against his chest. His arms were warm and strong, and his hoodie was soft - for the most part, less so the bunny logo, part of which was tickling Pyrrha's cheek - so that she didn't mind one bit just resting there in his embrace. "We ought to be second-year students at Beacon right now. Our biggest adventure should have been competing in last year's Vytal Festival. We should be taking Professor Port's tactics class, not learning tactics as I direct you into life or death battles. This shouldn't be our lives."

"But it is our fate," Pyrrha replied.

"Yes, it is," Jaune said. "And you're meeting it. I can't think of anyone I know who would do better thrown into your position. Pyrrha...Pyrrha, I..." He released her, his arms falling to his sides.

Pyrrha looked at him. "Jaune?"

"Pyrrha..." he whispered, and once more he seemed to hesitate, to choke on his words. "I have to go. I mean not go go, I mean...step out for a minute, get some air. In the house."

"Oh," Pyrrha said. "I see. Of course."

"Great," Jaune said. "I mean, uh, I will...catch you later. Okay, bye." He practically fled out of the room. The door shut rather heavily behind him.

Pyrrha was left staring at that door. How very curious of him. Still, she trusted that he had a good reason to her that he would explain to her later tonight. As for herself, she had many more people to check up on before she was through.

Pyrrha followed him out of the study, but he had already passed out of sight. She stepped out into the corridor, shutting the door gently behind her. This floor - the third - held the guest bedrooms, most of them empty at this point, but there was one that she thought would be occupied. Pyrrha walked down the corridor, past a pair of third century vases filled with red lilies, and stood before Qrow Branwen's room. She knocked gently on the door. "Mister Branwen?" she asked.

An uneven snoring coming from inside the room was the only answer that she received.

Pyrrha took a step back, her head bowed. Forgive me, Ruby; I fear I'm not really taking very good care of your uncle. With things so hectic here, Qrow Branwen was largely left to do as he pleased; unfortunately, stricken as he was with grief for both his mentor and his niece, what it mostly seemed to please him to do was drink until he passed out, then sleep until he was ready to start drinking again. Mother had locked the wine cellar up several weeks ago, but that just meant he spent his days in low bars instead. Pyrrha had had to bail him out of the drunk tank twice, and the fact that the police had been very obliging about the whole thing had not made it any less embarrassing. And yet, it was her own fault because she hadn't been able to help him. She had no idea where to begin. How could she console him after such losses? Where would she even begin? And yet, by failing to do so, she was, she felt, letting Ruby down tremendously.

She knocked again. "Mister Branwen?"

"They got cars big as bars, they got rivers of gold," the singing that came from within the room was slurred and only half-coherent; after that line, it became completely incoherent.

Pyrrha sighed. I'm sorry, Ruby. She would try again later.

That was what she always said. But when later came...it was always easier to say that he still wasn't in the mood and go somewhere else. As she did now, walking down the corridor beneath the imperious gazes of the death masks of her noble ancestors. Candles flickered behind the red terracotta visages, so that the eyes of the dead seemed to blaze like fire as they stared out at her, stern-faced in judgement. Pyrrha felt her back straighten; she was defending her kingdom against all its enemies; surely they could find no way to disapprove of her now?

She descended into the great hall, where it looked as though Autumn Blaze had just finished a set – in addition to being their blogger, she was also kind enough to put her other talents to use for the entertainment of the heroes after battle: sometimes, she told jokes, her stand up was a riot; other times, she sang numbers from some of the musicals she’d written – and was taking a break to take a much-needed drink of water. Teams real and impromptu were scattered across the tables of the hall: the ad-hoc team of tournament fighters who had followed Arlsan and Pyrrha’s lead to answer the call of Mistral, Team JAMM, Team VLCA, Arslan standing in the other doorway; Sun and Neptune were there with Ditzy too and seemed to be having a good time. Aside from Team JHAL, probably still discussing Hector’s circumstances, it was only Bolin and Nadir, formerly of Team ABRN, and Ren and Nora whom Pyrrha couldn’t see here.

Ditzy caught sight of her and waved, beaming excitedly. “Good luck, Pyrrha!”

“Um, thank you,” Pyrrha acknowledged, though she was uncertain as to why, exactly, she should need good fortune right now. Everyone was behaving so very oddly this evening, it was quite, quite baffling.

It was her fellow tournament fighters, her fellow former tournament fighters, she supposed, whom Pyrrha approached first. There were only four of them, and she had to admit that that was fewer than she had hoped for when she had first approached the fighting gyms, but it turned out that there were not that many willing to trade the safety – and the potentially lucrative career – of the arena for the hazards of the battlefield. Only four had been willing to do so. But they were a good four, probably the best four she could have asked for.

Michael Corona, the reigning champion until this year’s games were held, was the first to notice her approach. He rose to his feet, his chair scraping against the floor as he bodily pushed it backwards with his legs. He was a slightly squat young man, about as tall as Nora but much broader in the shoulders, with an ill-favoured face framed by long black hair dyed purple at the tips. He was naked from the waist up, save for a mail manica protecting his sword arm, exposing a chest hard enough to make Sun jealous. He clenched his right hand into a fist and placed it above his heart as he bowed. “Your highness, you honour us with your presence.”

Pyrrha cleared her throat. “Please, Michael, there is no need for that.”

“Is there not?” Michael asked. “Are we not yours? Have we not knelt to you and kissed your sword?”

“Technically, the answer to that is no,” Esau reminded him. Esau Shepherd was a bear faunus, which manifested in a lot of hair covering his rather lithe and slender body until he looked like some sort of half-transformed were-creature from a monster movie, clashing somewhat with the technicolour coat that he had on. He was playing with a slingshot in one hand, swinging it back and forth as it wrapped around his finger. “No kissing of any swords was done by any of us.”

Michael gave him a rather dirty look. “It was a metaphorical sword and a metaphorical kiss.”

“Ah,” Esau said. “The worst kind of kiss.”

“We could kiss your sword,” suggested Oceana Turquoise. She was a fish faunus, bald with a turquoise fin on top of her head like the crest of a helmet – in fact, her actual helmet, though it covered the rest of her head and face, was specially designed to let her fin emerge from it to act as the crest on a more ordinary helm – while her face, the only part of her visible from beneath her all-encompassing suit of armour – was wan and a little too pale, like a drowned corpse; one of her eyes was blue, the other green, and both had a touch of mirth in them either at the expense of Michael or Pyrrha or perhaps them both. “I mean, if you like.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather that you didn’t,” Pyrrha murmured. “Just as I’d rather that you didn’t call me highness.” She had even less hope of him stopping than of Yatsuhashi; Michael had been calling her ‘your highness’ for years ever since they first crossed blades in the arena; she would have thought he was mocking her, but he always managed to sound so sincere when he said it.

“With all due honour, highness, I fear that I cannot oblige,” Michael said. “I could not disrespect a lady by failing to acknowledge her due titles.”

“Oh, yes you could,” Oceana said. She glanced at Pyrrha. “You know he’s nothing like this if you get him in private.”

“Yes, but we’re not in private are we?” Michael said. “Which means I have a reputation for old world courtesy to maintain.”

Of course this would be about his brand, wouldn’t it?

“Did you need something, Pyrrha?” asked Metella Vespal. A wasp faunus, Metella had four wings as fine as gossamer emerging from her back out of slits cut in the banded cuirass of black and gold she wore across her chest. Her eyes were golden, and her black hair was bound up tightly into a low bun at the nape of her neck. “Something sensible, perhaps.”

“There is nothing insensible about good manners and gentility,” Michael declared haughtily.

Pyrrha ignored him temporarily. “I was just seeing how you were doing, if there was anything that I could do for you?”

Michael bowed his head. “You are most gracious to inquire, princess, but we are quite content.”

“Stop it, for the love of the gods,” Oceana hissed.

“We were just discussing who might win this year’s tournament,” Esau said. “Since you and Arslan have both withdrawn, and we…” he spread his hands wide. “While none of us have officially announced our retirements…if the fighting continues at this tempo, there is hardly likely to be time.”

Pyrrha gestured to the empty chair at their table, and at a nod from Metella sat down. “If the fighting continues at this tempo,” she said, “then I would hope that this year’s tournament will be cancelled.”

Esau snorted. “You’ll be lucky, not with all that money at stake.”

“How about cancelled because it’s going to be a washout and a farce?” Oceana asked. “No Invincible Girl, no Golden Lion; dare I say no Mermaid Knight? Who’s left?”

“The White Wolf,” Metella said. “If she competes, she’ll take the victory this year.”

“In a field with no contenders, what kind of a victory is that?” Oceana replied. “Whoever wins will take no glory from it. They might as well put an asterisk next to their name for all that they will be called a true champion.”

“None of you would consider entering?” Pyrrha asked.

The gazes of the four tournament fighters became a little hard, their expressions somewhat offended.

“Your highness,” Michael said, a touch of sternness entering his voice. “It is true that we are all, in some degree, more actor than thou art. It is true we do not have such souls heroic as you do that we can wear a true face and be admired and well-beloved regardless. Yet nonetheless, we are not Atlesian hirelings to turn aside when the road darkens and brighter lights beckon behind, but warriors of Mistral, who have given their word and mean to keep it.”

“We may not have kissed your sword,” Oceana said, “but we pledged ours to you.”

“So long as Mistral has need of a defender, the Wasp shall stand for her,” Metella promised.

“Besides,” Esau said. “What is the paltry glory of an arena bereft of its two favourite daughters compared to the glory that you cast before us on the battlefield?”

“'Glory'?” Pyrrha repeated, slightly incredulous. “Is that what you think lies all around us.”

“Aye, highness,” Michael said. “Is it not so?”

“Great glory, greater than we have ever known in all our lives,” Oceana said. “Greater than we could ever win in our whole careers.”

“The stories that Autumn Blaze tells of these days will last as long as the kingdom, perhaps,” Esau said.

“And when your four championships are long forgotten,” Michael declared, “they will yet talk of how Pyrrha Nikos stood between the light of Mistral and the dark to keep the realm safe…and they will talk of the gallant band that stood arrayed about you, and our names will never be forgotten.”

Pyrrha was silent. She could not help but feel that they were at once quite right but at the same time doing this for completely the wrong reasons. She glanced at Metella, the only one who had not declared any great desire for her name to linger in immortal memory as a result of her deeds in these days.

Metella smiled. “Oh, you will get nothing like that from me. I am here for the kingdom…and because someone must keep an eye on these three.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “If there is nothing else, I will leave you to your evening,” she said, pushing her chair back and getting to your feet. She paused. “I cannot promise what history will say,” she said, “but I think that those whose lives you save will long remember you, if that is any comfort.”

“That they are able to remember is comfort enough,” Metella said softly. “Good evening, lady.”

“Really?” Pyrrha asked. “You too?”

Metella shrugged. “It seems appropriate, in the circumstances.”

Arslan, standing all the way across the hall, was looking at Pyrrha in a slightly strange way... or at least she kept on glancing in Pyrrha's direction and then glancing away again, all with this slightly coy smile playing upon her face. It was strange enough to arouse Pyrrha's curiosity, and she began to make her way across the hall to where Arslan stood in the far doorway. She was intercepted along the way, however, by Autumn Blaze; Autumn was slightly older than most of the huntsmen gathered beneath Pyrrha's youth, but only by a few years, of average height but with long, rangy limbs so that she cut a slightly gangly figure; a dense mane of lush auburn hair surrounded a slightly swarthy face, from out of which a pair of large golden eyes gleamed eagerly as she approached, glass of water still in hand.

"Lady Pyrrha! Lady Pyrrha!"

Pyrrha stopped, a slight sigh escaping her lips. "Why does everyone feel the need to keep calling me that?"

Autumn's look became slightly incredulous for a moment. "Because you've got thirty warriors and a bard living under your roof; there are actual epic heroes who started off with less than that. You're a sword lord; get over it."

There was a certain unassailable bluntness to Autumn's logic, but that didn't stop Pyrrha from saying, "Is there any way that you could...stop acknowledging it regardless?"

"I could try? No promises," Autumn said. "Anyway, what I really wanted to say to you was congratulations!" she bounced eagerly up and down on the balls of her feet.

Pyrrha blinked. "The victories belong to everyone, not just to me."

Autumn looked strangely confused for a moment. "Wha- oh! Yes, yes, that is totally what I meant. Congratulations on all those...victories!" She laughed nervously. "Congratulations all round, fellas!"

Pyrrha's brow furrowed. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes!" Autumn cried loudly. "Everything's fine. Great! Anyway, speaking of victories, while we're on the subject, when am I going to get the footage? 'Cause you know I need to see what happened before I write it up for the blog."

"If you speak to Jaune, I'm sure he'll make you a copy," Pyrrha said. "Speaking of which, I don't suppose you've seen him."

"Uh, no," Autumn replied. "No, I have not, but when I do, I'll be sure to ask him about that video, thanks."

"Are you sure everything is okay?" Pyrrha asked.

"It's all good," Autumn assured her. "I mean, obviously, it's not all good, but I'm good I mean, so anyway, how are you?"

Pyrrha hesitated a moment before she said, for the benefit of anyone in the hall who might be listening, "I am quite content; I feel as though everything is going...as well as could be expected."

Autumn looked at her with a gleam of knowingness in her golden eyes. "Does the lady thing really bother you?"

"I..." Pyrrha paused, choosing her words with care so as not to give offence. "When you asked to come here and live with us and observe us...your blog is supposed to, amongst other things, show that we are not a threat to the kingdom; I worry at times that the emphasis you sometimes put upon my background runs counter to that."

"But it's one of the most dramatic parts of the story!" Autumn protested.

"Our situation isn't dramatic enough already?" Pyrrha asked, her tone slightly incredulous.

"I suppose," Autumn conceded. "But come on: the lost princess emerging from obscurity to save the kingdom in its hour of need! That's a hook! That's a story people want to hear the end of."

"Except that I was never lost," Pyrrha reminded her. "Or obscure for that matter." Although I sometimes wish I had been.

"And the masked man living beneath the opera stage was just an urban myth but I still won all the awards for a show about him," Autumn said. "That is why I'm the writer and you're the protagonist: because I understand that you can't always sweat the details. I can't just write about grimm attacks and bandit raids, and do you know why? Because people will just think about grimm attacks and bandit raids! Everyone knows that monsters exist; they need stories to teach them that monsters can be fought. People need heroes they can believe in more than they believe in monsters; they need a story they can believe in, and you've got the best one in the house."

"I'll have to take your word for that," Pyrrha said. After all, Autumn Blaze had as many theatre awards as Pyrrha had trophies, maybe more.

"You do that," Autumn said. "You got a request for when I go back up there?"

Pyrrha was quite partial to "All I Ask of You," but she was aware that she had not finished making the rounds yet. "Not at the moment, no."

"Suit yourself; I'm here all week," Autumn said, smiling as she turned away. "Congrats again! For your victories, I mean. Congratulations for the win, and nothing else."

Some people are behaving rather strangely tonight, Pyrrha thought to herself as she resumed her interrupted journey across the hall to where Arslan stood, leaning in the doorway that led down the steps to the kitchen.

She was still smiling. "I hope you don't expect me to call you Lady Pyrrha," she said.

"I'm rather glad you don't," Pyrrha replied.

"Good, because it's not going to happen any time soon," Arslan said. "Although...it can have its advantages."

"With the people?"

"With your enemies," Arslan explained. "It makes them underestimate you."

"Do you really think so?"

"I did," Arslan said, still with that smile on her face.

"What are you smiling at?" Pyrrha demanded.

"Me? Oh, nothing," Arslan said, as though she hadn't even noticed that she was smiling and was now having to make a conscious effort to stop. "How's the mood?"

"As varied as the people," Pyrrha murmured. She moved to stand opposite Arslan, the two of them together blocking up the doorway coming from the kitchen. "Where are Bolin and Nadir?" Why are you all alone?

"They went to help Ren and Nora down in the kitchen," Arslan said. "I think. When they get back, I'll move out of their way." She scowled. "Nadir should have led the team instead of me."

Pyrrha tilted her head slightly sideways. "What makes you say that?"

"Because he's smarter than I am," Arslan replied. "My head was too big to see it at the time, but I never deserved to lead a team. With...with what you say about Lionheart, I wonder if he was just crippling the team by choosing a bad leader."

"I think you might be being too hard on yourself," Pyrrha said.

Arslan’s look was hard. “We’ve talked already about you patronising me, Pyrrha.”

“I wasn’t-”

“I got Reese killed,” Arslan said stonily. “My teammate, and she’s dead because of me.”

“The grimm killed Reese,” Pyrrha said. “Our enemy killed Reese.”

“Oh, sure, because you never blame yourself for any of the things that our enemies have done, do you?” Arslan asked acidly. “If Nadir had led…he could hardly have done worse, could he? No wonder he and Bolin don’t want anything to do with me.”

“Is that really true?” Pyrrha asked. “Or is it that you want nothing to do with them?”

Arslan’s nose twitched. “Either way. I got Reese killed, I got Nadir wounded, I was a terrible leader. I was set up to be a terrible leader from the start.”

"I...I don’t know,” Pyrrha admitted. “Even...even if you weren’t the best choice, I'm not sure I'd call that treachery. I would call it...Mistral."

Arslan looked up at her. "You’re saying he didn't pick me because he thought I couldn't do it; he picked me because I was a big name tournament celebrity? That...doesn’t make me feel much better, to be honest."

"I'm sure a lot of people would have been very surprised if you hadn't been made the leader of your team," Pyrrha suggested. "We do love our heroes in this kingdom."

"Even if they're only make-believe heroes," Arslan muttered. "It doesn’t really matter whether Lionheart picked me because he wanted to screw us over or he picked me because he wanted an easy life, Reese is still dead because he chose wrong. Because I was only a make-believe hero. Is that one of the reasons you chose Beacon, because you knew that Haven would roll out the red carpet for Pyrrha Nikos, Champion of Mistral?"

"I hoped that, even if my reputation preceded me there, the teachers at Beacon wouldn't be blinded by it in a way that I feared the Haven faculty might be," acknowledged Pyrrha. And I was more or less proven right in that. "Arslan, do you believe that there is glory waiting for us in this?"

The smile returned to Arslan's face, if it was touched by a slightly sardonic edge. "Yes, I saw you talking to those four just a moment ago," she said, jabbing her thumb towards their fellow ex-tournament fighters. "That's their take on things I suppose?"

"Less so Metella," Pyrrha murmured. "But Michael, Oceana and Esau, certainly. They think that they will win greater glory here than ever they won in the arena."

"That's because they don't have to worry about you or me coming between them and their ambitions, now that we're all facing in the same direction," Arslan muttered.

"I'm being serious," Pyrrha declared.

"You think I'm not?" Arslan asked.

"Do you think they're right?"

Arslan's eyes narrowed. "Are you asking me if I'm here for the fame and the glory?"

"No," Pyrrha assured her. "I just want to know what you think about it?"

"I think they might be right," Arslan conceded. "It's just a little hard for us to see or say because...we're both past caring, aren't we? You especially. You've been past caring for a long time. When did the tournaments stop thrilling you?"

"In the third year," Pyrrha said. "I realised...I realised that I hated the idea of losing more than I liked the idea of winning. I...I wanted to do something more meaningful than play to the crowd."

"And I thought you were so full of yourself for that," Arslan admitted. "But now...now I get it. What you were doing at Beacon mattered; what we're doing here matters in ways our trophy cabinets never could. We're doing something for Mistral."

Pyrrha nodded. "For Mistral. All of it for Mistral."

"For Mistral...and for Reese,” Arslan said. "I was only a make-believe hero when she needed the real thing, but I’ll be the real thing now, in her memory.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha agreed. “You will. Have a good evening.”

Arslan’s lips twitched upwards. “Not so good an evening as you’re about to have, I’ll bet.”

Pyrrha frowned. “Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” Arslan said, a little too casually. “Just...a hunch.”

“Hmm,” Pyrrha murmured. “I see.” She didn’t, of course, but what else was she supposed to say to something like that? She considered going down into the kitchen to speak with Ren and Nora, but there were still two teams in the hall that she hadn't checked up on yet, and she didn't want them to feel as though they were unwanted or unvalued by her, and so she turned away from Arslan and made her towards the centre of the hall, where Team VLCA, pronounced Volcano, were gathered with their heads together around one of their number, Cicero Ward, and the book that was open on the table in front of him. Actually, Pyrrha saw as she drew nearer, it wasn't a book; at least it was not bound. A manuscript?

"Is one of you a writer?" Pyrrha asked, as she circled around the table.

The four members of the team look up at her, amusement in the faces of all but Cicero, around whom the rest of them stood.

Lily Cornelia was not the youngest member of the team, but the combination of blonde hair braided in pigtails and an innocent look in her clear blue eyes combined to make her look younger than her nineteen years; that, in turn, made the way that she had tied up her flannel shirt to expose her midriff seem a little racier than it really was. She had her hands on her hips, one of them also holding onto a broad-brimmed hat. "It's a letter," she explained. "From Cicero's father."

Pyrrha's eyes widened just a little. A letter? Leaving aside the question of why Councillor Ward would send his son a letter when they lived in the same city, that still left the fact that this letter was the size of a book.

"It has a title," Rufus August informed her. He was physically the largest of Team VLCA, and so he stood directly over Cicero, and in his plate - only his helm removed, revealing a broad face and a shock of red hair - he loomed over all three of his other team-mates. "And chapters."

"Why don't we all be honest?" Cicero sighed. He had a handsome face, marred by a prominent and sizable mole on his right cheek, and dark eyes matching his hair. "He's going to publish this after a discrete interval." He must have noticed Pyrrha's continuing confusion, because he explained further, "The title is On Nobility."

"Ah," Pyrrha said, understanding now. "It's a mirror for princes." It was far from uncommon for works in that genre - an admixture of philosophical treatise and etiquette, setting out the best way to live and to conduct oneself - to be couched in terms of a letter, often to the author's son or daughter, although she had never seen one actually sent as a letter before.

"We’re speculating on what it might mean that he felt the need to write us a primer on proper behaviour and send it to us," declared Violet Valeria, the team leader. Her brown hair was worn in a pageboy cut, and her eyes were as violet as her name; violet too - with blue highlights - was the flexible, utilitarian armour that embraced her form. She was one of Pyrrha's two lieutenants - Sun being the other - who might command in Pyrrha's absence if it was necessary to split the force in two.

"I...perhaps he simply wishes to offer you some encouragement?" Pyrrha suggested. Cicero's father sat on the Mistral Council; in fact, he was the only friend they had on the Mistral Council, where he spoke in their defence against those who were...not so enthused about what Pyrrha and her friends were doing. He was a much-needed ally, even if he wasn’t able to persuade his fellow councillors to do anything to defend the kingdom that might have made Pyrrha and her company redundant. She had to admit that she found it a little odd that he had felt the need to pen this missive to his son now, although it was not without precedent. “I’m sure it means nothing negative. After all, the Councillor is working within an old and august literary tradition.”

"Even so, listen to this," Cicero said, as he opened up the tome his father had sent him. He cleared his throat and read out, "'Not for ourselves alone are we born; our country, our friends, each have some share in us.'"

"Your father writes well, and wisely," Pyrrha said softly.

“He’s always had a way with words,” Cicero agreed, “but why did he feel like he had to tell me that now? What does he think we’re doing here, except honouring the share our country has in us?”

“And our friends too,” Lily added, placing a hand on Cicero’s shoulder.

“At the risk of sounding unbearably arrogant, do we not already model the kind of nobility he writes of?” Rufus asked.

“My father has very high standards,” Cicero said.

“Impossibly high,” Rufus muttered. “Why doesn’t he send this to his friends on the council? They might actually learn a few things.”

"They have much to learn," Violet declared. "It is no shame for the farmer or the crofter to leave their security to our protection; all of us," she seemed to be referring to her team, although the net could have encompassed Pyrrha or others, "came to train as huntresses, that we might be the shields of Mistral and stand between her and her enemies, feral or otherwise. But it is a great shame when those who claim to rule this land do nothing to defend it and we who wish to do so must walk the edge of law for it."

Pyrrha nodded. "Your thoughts mirror my own." She glanced into the eyes of each of them in turn. "Does it trouble you, walking the edge of law as Violet puts it?"

"Laws are only made by men," Rufus declared. "And so, they can be as unjust as men can be. There are times when there are more important things than living within the law."

"We haven't broken the law yet," Lily reminded him.

"Is that you saying you'd leave if we did?" Rufus asked.

"No!" Lily said firmly. "I was just saying."

"If we haven't broken the law yet, I don't intend to start now," Pyrrha assured them both.

"Unless the law is changed," Cicero said.

"Do you think it will come to that?" Pyrrha asked.

Cicero spread his hands helplessly. "I cannot say. My father does his best, but he is but one voice and one vote in a chamber of five, and there are some who are no friends of ours."

Pyrrha knew that well enough, for she, too, had heard it from Councillor Ward’s own lips when they had last spoken. The Mistralian Council consisted of only five seats - presently occupied by Lord Thrax, the Steward; Professor Lionheart; Cicero Ward the Elder; Timur Kiyat and Lady Ming - and, from what she had been told, no proposal that went before them could command majority support during the deliberations of the council. Although a plethora of options lay before them, it seemed as though everything failed three votes to two through a shifting kaleidoscope of combinations: Lord Thrax and Lady Ming favoured a prohibition against all unauthorised armed combinations, but Ward, Timur, and Lionheart - though why he did so was a question that Pyrrha struggled to answer - opposed it; Lady Ming and Timur favoured an embargo on foodstuffs exports that would provoke a confrontation with Atlas, but Ward, Lionheart, and Lord Thrax opposed it; Councillor Ward had proposed sending out the council’s own huntsmen to protect the outlying settlements, but though he had been supported by Timur, he had been opposed by Lionheart, Lord Thrax, and Lady Ming. The only thing, it seemed, that all the councillors agreed upon was that they disagreed with everyone about something.

"Whatever befalls," Violet said,. "we are here for Mistral...and for you, while you carry the honour of this kingdom."

"It's a privilege to fight alongside you," Lily said. "And to be a part of all this."

"The honour is mine, for all I wish it wasn't necessary," Pyrrha replied. "I'll leave you to your reading."

Cicero snorted. "Thank you."

Team JAMM was the last group in the hall with whom Pyrrha had not spoken, and so it was to their table that Pyrrha went next - and last, before she went down to the kitchens. She couldn't see their team leader at first, before she spotted him lying with his head in Medea's lap while she ran one hand through his hair, a playful smile upon her lips. Atalanta, on the other hand, had turned away from the rest of her team in what almost looked like disgust, while Meleager tried to catch her attention.

"Is everything alright?" Pyrrha asked, as she approached.

Jason sat up hastily, looking a little embarrassed at the position she had caught him in. Medea did not look ashamed in the least.

"Yes, my lady," Jason said. "All is very well, thank you."

Pyrrha didn't even bother trying to correct him. "You all fought very well today."

"Medea fought well," Jason said. "The rest of us just watched in awe, as always."

"Speak for yourself," Atalanta snapped, shifting in her chair so that she was a part of the conversation. "I shot seven men today, and more beowolves."

"You all fought well," Pyrrha repeated. "I feel as though I owe you all an apology; the emergency has lasted longer than I hoped it would."

"And what of that, lady?" Jason asked. "Some adventures are brief, but the grandest go on for longer."

"An adventure?" Pyrrha repeated. I'm afraid this stopped feeling like an adventure for me some time ago.

"Is it not so?" Jason asked. "With the unknown before us and a kingdom at stake?"

"Like the hunt for the Kaledonian Boarbatusk," Meleager explained. "Only there are hordes of them."

"This is no adventure; this is the life we chose when we came to Haven," Medea said. She looked up at Pyrrha, blue eyes tinted with violet staring up at her. "Isn't that right, Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha nodded. "I don't believe the struggle against the grimm will ever truly end, but that is not to say that things will always be as intense as they are. That I do not believe."

"Either way, our lives will be spent in battle," Medea said.

"In some form," Pyrrha allowed. "But do not discount how easy it is to find happiness in the space between battle." She glanced at Jason.

Medea followed her gaze and smiled as she draped one arm around him. An engagement ring glimmered upon her slender finger. "Yes," she agreed. "Yes, I’ve seen Jaune around this evening...I think we're both very fortunate in that fact, aren't we?"

"Either we will triumph and live, triumph but perish, or we will die and fail utterly," Atalanta said. "Which will befall us is in the lap of the Goddess."

"If that is true, then what price effort?" Pyrrha asked. It was the same problem that she had with Sunset's notion of a fixed, immutable destiny.

"The Goddess will judge us," Atalanta said, "but we may sway her judgement with valour, and determination."

It still seemed a somewhat bleak prognosis to Pyrrha, but nevertheless, she said, "Then I am sure that you swayed her with what you did today. Good evening, I will not disturb you further."

"Don't be too concerned by Atalanta's gloom," Meleager told her, as she turned away. "Our ancestors overcame all monsters, grimm and cthonic alike, to found this city; we will do the same to protect it."

Pyrrha smiled slightly. "I hope so," she said, as she headed towards the kitchens. Arslan had departed from her post in the doorway - Pyrrha hadn't seen or heard her go - leaving the doorway empty, and the staircase down into the kitchen a dark and throat-like tunnel leading down into the gullet of a great beast. So at least Pyrrha had thought, when she was a little girl; now, she knew it was just a badly lit staircase, but one down which she walked without fear for the few moments it took before she emerged into the well-lit kitchen at the other side. The kitchen was large, but largely empty at the same time, with only Ren and Nora that Pyrrha could see, working side by side...well, Ren was working, Nora possibly less so. The sound of a knife on a chopping board alternated with the sound of chewing, and Pyrrha could guess which one was Ren and which was Nora.

"I thought that Bolin and Nadir were down here," Pyrrha said, as she looked around but failed to see them.

"They were here," Ren said, without looking around.

"But now they're not," Nora finished for him. "Did you need them for something?"

"No, not especially," Pyrrha said. She watched Ren's back as he worked. "This is a lot to take on by yourself."

"It isn't so much," Ren assured her. "And besides, I...owe it you."

Pyrrha frowned. "You don't owe me anything, not with all the assistance that you already give me."

"I...disagree," Ren said, prompting a snort from Nora.

Pyrrha blinked. "Is everything okay?"

Nora folded her arms. Ren still didn't turn around. "Everything is...fine."

"No, it isn't," Nora said.

"Nora-"

"If you're going to leave, then you ought to tell her first," Nora snapped.

Pyrrha took a step back. "You're...leaving?"

Ren sighed aggrievedly, and now at last he turned around. He had let his hair grow out these last few months; it was longer and shaggier than it had been at Beacon, like the wild mane of some noble beast. "I was just wondering - in private," he glared at Nora. "- if it might be time for the two of us to move on."

"Time to...but I need you," Pyrrha said, the words coming out of her mouth before she realised how selfish they were. "Mistral needs you," she added, which was both true and sounded so much better.

"It's for you and Mistral that it might be best if we went away," Ren replied.

“What?” Pyrrha said, incredulously. “But…I don’t understand.”

Ren stared at her for a moment, before he bowed his head in a kind of surrender. “Coming here…was a mistake.”

Pyrrha frowned. "Ren, you're not making any sense."

Ren closed his eyes. “All those stories, the ones that Nora tells, all those wacky adventures, did you never wonder why we had such…unconventional childhoods?”

Pyrrha murmured. “I assumed…I didn’t want to make an issue of it. You never confirmed, and I…I don’t think anybody wanted to be so crude or cruel as to bring up an issue that neither of you seemed to want to talk about.”

“Thank you,” Nora whispered.

“But it’s exactly what you think,” Ren said. “I was born in the village of Kuroyuri. Have you heard of it?”

“I’m afraid not,” Pyrrha admitted, “but I can imagine what happened.”

“Villages destroyed by the grimm are so common,” Ren said, with unveiled bitterness in his voice. “When you asked me – asked us – to join you, I thought that…I thought that perhaps I could help spare other places from suffering…other children from suffering the way that I suffered.”

“And you have,” Pyrrha said. “Elis, Leuctris, Xiangxi, Ilium, villages and towns still standing in part because of you. I don’t understand why you’re talking this way when you’re doing so much good.” She glanced at Nora for help, but the other girl, normally so exuberant, seemed powerless to help her with this.

“I thought I was doing good at Beacon, too,” Ren declared.

“And you were.”

“Don’t you understand?” Ren demanded. “Kuroyuri, Beacon, everywhere that I call home is overrun by grimm! It’s like I’m cursed. But that can’t happen here; what you’re doing is too important for me to put it at risk.”

“Risk how?” Pyrrha demanded. “Magic is real, I know that very well, but Professor Ozpin didn’t say anything about curses or about every superstition having a grain of truth behind it.”

“If there’s no truth to it, then why did the grimm leave me alive?” Ren asked. “Why was I spared, when no one else was?”

Nora’s eyes were wide, her face horrified. “Is that…is that what you’re thought this entire time? All the time we’ve…been together?”

Such guilt…have you wept all this while, letting no one see?

Ren turned away. “Nora-“

“You IDIOT!” Nora screeched, grabbing him by the arm and yanking Ren around so that he was facing her again, right before she slapped him across the face. “Is that what you really think? Do you really think that you’re so special that the grimm have been following you for years, just waiting for you to settle down so they can screw with you again?”

“I-“

“And what about me, huh?” Nora demanded. “I was there in Kuroyuri too; how do you know I’m not the one who’s cursed?”

“Because that would mean blaming you!” Ren snapped. “And I…I can’t do that. I won’t do it. Not you, Nora; never you.”

“So you’d rather blame yourself?” Nora asked. “It sounds to me like you know that this whole thing is a load of nonsense from start to finish.”

Ren was silent for a moment. “Why did I deserve to survive?” he asked. “Why was I the only one who deserved to survive? Why do I deserve to live on and be happy? When we came to Beacon, I thought that maybe we could make a new home there, with Yang. But now Yang’s dead. Why do I deserve to live, to move on to put another home at risk, while she’s gone?”

“Maybe…maybe you don’t,” Nora said, with an honesty that Pyrrha found to be quite brutal. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe we both deserved to die in Kuroyuri. Maybe…I can’t honestly tell you that we deserve to live more than Yang. She had a sister and a family to live for, people who cared about her. Maybe…maybe if the world was fair, then we would have died, and she’d be alive, and Ruby wouldn’t be broken by losing her sister. But we both know that the world isn’t fair…and maybe it doesn’t have to be. Maybe we don’t have to deserve a home to have one. Maybe we don’t have to deserve happiness to find it…together.”

She stared imploringly into Ren’s eyes. Pyrrha frowned. Was there…did Nora…she had always thought of them as having a bond like brother and sister, but the way that Nora was looking at him now…it made her wonder.

But does he feel the same way?

Ren turned away from her. “I don’t know what I should do,” he admitted.

“And I will not tell you,” Pyrrha said gently. “But, for myself, I would rather have you by my side and risk a curse, than be free of a curse and not have you two fighting beside me.”

“Nora-“ Ren began.

“Where you go, I go,” Nora said, quietly but as firmly as a stone wall. “Remember the faces? The faces of the people we protect? Remember how glad they are to see us? Are you really going to walk away from that because you’re afraid? Because of superstition?”

“If I bring-“

“If the grimm can reach us here,” Pyrrha said, “then I think we have more important problems to worry about.”

Ren was silent for a moment, before he said. “I’m sorry. This must all seem…very ridiculous.”

“Not at all,” Pyrrha said. “I, um,” - she suddenly felt very awkward, out of place in this scene that only belonged to Ren and Nora - “I should go.” she said, turning around and heading back in the direction in which she had come. A certain sense of relief stole over her as she left the kitchen; towards the end there, she had felt voyeuristic, an intruder on someone else’s grief and intimacy. Her steps were quick back up to the hall.

“Pyrrha, wait!” Nora cried, as she shut the kitchen door on Ren and stumbled after Pyrrha, coming a halt a few steps below her.

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said. “I should have left earlier.”

Nora shook her head. “I…you telling him you wanted him here, it helped. He needed to hear it.”

“I said it because it is true,” Pyrrha said softly.

“I know,” Nora replied. “But thanks anyway.” She stopped, and looked away for a moment. A blush began to spread across her face. “So…Pyrrha…there’s something else that I was meaning to ask you…”

Pyrrha took a step down, a step closer to Nora. “Yes, Nora?”

“How…how did you get Jaune to like you?” Nora asked.

Pyrrha was speechless for a moment. “Jaune?”

“Yeah,” Nora said, sounding a little embarrassed about this whole situation. “I mean, he was pretty clueless, right? I could tell you liked him, but he…and then it’s like you did something to flip a switch in his head, so what did you do?”

“I…started wearing eyeshadow?” Pyrrha suggested.

The two of them stared at one another for a moment, before sniggers of laughter escaped from both of their lips.

“Yeah,” Nora said. “I’m sure that was what put you over the top.”

“You asked me what I did,” Pyrrha reminded her. “I…I don’t know what changed with Jaune; maybe you should talk to him?”

“Oh, I’ve talked to Jaune,” Nora said, in a very knowing tone that left Pyrrha feeling a little confused, even more so than this conversation. “But what I need to know is-“

“How can you flip a switch in Ren’s head?” Pyrrha suggested.

Nora sighed. “Is it that obvious?”

“Actually, I’d say you hide it very well,” Pyrrha told her. “At least until just now. Do you…love him?”

“Do I?” Nora repeated. “He’s my whole world! I’d do anything for him. But sometimes…I don’t know if he cares about me at all.”

“I’m sure he does,” Pyrrha assured her. “Ren is…a very private person, after all.” Tonight was the first time she’d ever heard him talk about himself, let alone in such frank terms.

“But it’s me,” Nora said. “And he still won’t…” She groaned, and beat her head against the wall. “What am I supposed to do? I’d tell him how I feel, but…what if he doesn’t feel the same way? Things could never be the same between us, could they?”

“I…suppose not,” Pyrrha conceded. That’s what I was afraid of, after all. “But…I’m afraid I don’t know what to say.”

Nora shook her head. “Men are blockheads, aren’t they?”

Pyrrha smiled. “But we love them anyway. I can’t help you…but I wish you luck.”

Nora saluted with two fingers, flicking through her bangs from the side of her temple. “Good luck to you too, Pyrrha.” She winked, although Pyrrha wasn’t sure why and didn’t feel entirely comfortable asking.

Nora turned away, and as she went back into the kitchen Pyrrha turned away too, climbing the steps back into the hall.

Her mother was waiting for her there.

“Pyrrha,” Lady Nikos said. “There are certain matters which I need to discuss with you.”

Pyrrha bowed her head. “Of course, Mother.”

Her mother's leg was feeling better tonight, Pyrrha observed, as she followed her mother out of the hall and back up the stairways that she had only recently descended; she was walking without the aid of her cane, as she had done about a year ago. It came and it went, but she was glad for mother's sake that it was going rather than coming at the moment.

"Walk beside me," Lady Nikos said sharply. "Do not follow; it makes you seem subservient."

"Oh, of course, Mother," Pyrrha said, as she quickened her - deliberately slow - steps so that she was walking by her mother's side, not trailing behind her.

"In these past few months, you have become someone worthy of our line," Lady Nikos declared. "You have no need to walk behind anyone in Mistral."

Pyrrha tilted her head downwards just a little. "I am grateful for your support of this venture, but I do this because I must, not because I am a Nikos."

"They follow you because you are a Nikos," Lady Nikos said.

"Perhaps," Pyrrha admitted. "But their reasons need not be mine. I do this because I must."

"Why must you do it except because you are a Nikos?"

"Because I was chosen for it," Pyrrha replied, "and whatever Professor Ozpin's reasons, I do not think my ancestry had anything to do with it."

"No, it was for your skill in combat," Lady Nikos acknowledged, "but what is that but the flowering of our line's glory and valour in you?"

"Mother," Pyrrha said sharply. "It is bad enough that lords and councillors of this city are so self-interested, so neglectful of the common good that they spend more time worrying that I am going to stage a coup with the help of my comrades than they do worrying about the outlying villages living under the threat of destruction; must you and so many others here feed their baseless fears and make them seem less than groundless by piling on pretensions that I did not ask for? I do this because the kingdom requires it, not because I seek power."

"Have you considered that if you had power, the needs of the kingdom might not require such actions as yours?" Lady Nikos asked.

Pyrrha sighed. "What do you mean, Mother?"

Lady Nikos looked at Pyrrha out of the corner of her eyes. "Nothing, at present," she conceded to Pyrrha's reluctance. "It is merely something for you to bear in mind."

Pyrrha pursed her lips together. "Thank you, Mother," she said. Thank you for dropping the subject, for now.

She and her mother walked together into her mother's study, where Pyrrha waited until her mother had walked around the desk and taken her seat before she sat down in her turn. She clasped her hands together in her lap and waited for her mother to speak her mind.

"That man," Lady Nikos said pointedly, and with evident disapproval in her voice.

Pyrrha had no need to ask who 'that man' was. She squirmed slightly with discomfort on her chair. "I know that Mister Branwen's behaviour is not as we might hope-"

"Mister Branwen's conduct shames you," Lady Nikos declared, "and your noble enterprise besides."

"I think that you exaggerate, Mother. I doubt most people in Mistral know who he is, let alone that he is connected with me."

"You think that the police officers from whom you extracted him have not talked?" Lady Nikos asked. "The behaviour of the guest reflects on the host, you know this."

"I know that we in Mistral are sometimes too swift to judge a man's worth by his manners," Pyrrha replied.

"What has your Mister Branwen given me to judge him by but his ill-manners?" Lady Nikos said. "When he came here, you told me that he was a seasoned huntsman of great skill, and a confidant of Ozpin besides."

"He is."

"Then when will we see some sign of it?" Lady Nikos demanded. "Mistral is under siege, you and your companions - barely more than children - fight to hold back the darkness that surrounds us, and meanwhile, this man, this trained huntsman of such renown, sits safely here within the city, indulging his fondness for strong drink."

"He is in grief," Pyrrha said. "It is sadness, not idleness, that drives him. He has lost a teacher and a mentor-"

"So have you," Lady Nikos said.

"To say nothing of a niece who was as a daughter to him," Pyrrha finished. "He has reason to grieve, does he not?" Although I cannot deny that we could use his help, at the same time, I cannot begrudge him his desire to forget all his losses. "He is Ruby's uncle, and he has nowhere else to go. I cannot turn him out of doors, mother, I will not."

"I did not say you should," Lady Nikos replied, her voice quiet but not soft.

"What then?" Pyrrha asked.

Lady Nikos was quiet for a moment. "How is your own grief?"

Pyrrha shook her head. "Nothing compared to his."

"That is not what I asked," Lady Nikos said, and now her voice did soften. "You cared for your professor."

Pyrrha nodded. "You may say that my qualities are but the flowering of our royal race," she said, "but I...I prefer to think that Professor Ozpin saw something in me that went beyond my name of Nikos." Just as he saw something in Ruby and Sunset and Jaune, who have no names at all. "Barely a day passes when I do not wish for his wisdom, his humanity, his faith in the humanity of others...his confidence that all would be well...and his confidence in me. He trusted me, and yet, I fear I...I'm only doing the most obvious thing and missing all the things he would have seen at once."

"You hide it well," Lady Nikos said.

"I..." Pyrrha sighed. "I have very little time to mourn or miss my friends; it doesn't mean that I don't mourn or miss them."

"No, but that is precisely my point," Lady Nikos said. "You coddle that man too much. I do not doubt his sorrows, but work will help him past them better than self-indulgence. You must put him to work, and he will thank you for it in the end."

Pyrrha looked her mother in the eyes. "Is that what you did?" she asked. "When Father died?"

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment. "It is what I have done," she said. "All these years since."

"Mother-"

"I give you notice, whatever you decide, that I will not much longer tolerate Mister Branwen's current behaviour," Lady Nikos said, the sharpness of her tone indicating her desire to move on. "There was something else that we must discuss, namely the family finances."

"Of course," Pyrrha murmured. She was aware that her activities were not cheap - Nora, showing surprising skill as a haggler, had gotten her a good deal on the airships, but that hadn't made them cheap; then there was the hire on the landing pads, and the MARS weapons they used to fortify the villages were not inexpensive either - so that, for the first time in many years, the expenses of the family had outstripped the income from their rents and interests, and they were barely out of the first quarter. At the moment, they had substantial savings and investments to fall back on - Lady Nikos' decision to keep all her money in Mistral now seemed very prudent in light the collapse of the CCT, although the condition of the world also meant the stock portfolio was worth a lot less than had recently been the case - but how long would that last if things continued as they were? "How bad is it?"

"Miss Altan's fund-raising activities have helped somewhat," Lady Nikos said. "Nevertheless, if the cost of your venture continues at its current rate, our savings will be consumed by the end of the year."

Pyrrha could not entirely restrain a gasp. That quickly? Mind you, if things were still carrying on like this by the end of the year, they might have other things to worry about besides money. "The stocks?"

"Most of them are nearly worthless at the moment, and who will say when the market will recover?" Lady Nikos said.

Pyrrha nodded. She and her mother had already discussed economies that they could make within the household, but they were both reluctant to start dismissing staff; in the current climate, it might be hard for them to find other positions, and that seemed a rather cold and unbecoming response. "I...I will ask Neptune to speak to his mother and ask her again to help share the burden of our activities. And I...I will go and speak to Turnus and ask for his help." She was not looking forward to it, but she would not send anyone else to do this for her, even if she could have done so without it seeming like an insult. "And...you will not like this, Mother, but I think we must consider selling some of our family heirlooms."

Lady Nikos's eyebrows rose. "You wish to sell our history?"

"Our history cannot be taken away from us," Pyrrha replied, "but the house is full of relics and trinkets that are of no use to us but which might fund the defence of so many settlements. I...I'm sorry, and I wouldn't suggest if it the needs of Mistral were not great-"

"But the need of Mistral is great," Lady Nikos said, "and what are antiques against a kingdom and its people?" For a moment, she almost seemed to smile. "Very well. I will invite the appraisers to call upon us and see what there is in the house that I can bring myself to part with."

"Thank you, Mother," Pyrrha said. "I really do appreciate all that you're doing for me, and for Mistral."

"You are my daughter," Lady Nikos said, "and you have become so much more than I ever hoped you could be. How can I do other than I have done? How is the mood amongst your companions?"

"Some want the fighting to be over," Pyrrha said. "Others want it to continue so that they may win more renown in it."

"And you?"

"I would see this kingdom made safe," Pyrrha replied. "Or at least as safe as any kingdom can be in this perilous world. Will that be all?"

"Yes," Lady Nikos said. "I am very proud of you."

"Thank you, Mother," Pyrrha said, as she got to her feet and took her leave of her mother, closing the study door behind her as she stood in the corridor, her eyes flickering over the tapestries that hung from the walls, the antique suits of armour, the ornate vases resting on their plinths. It had all been here for as long as she could remember; none of it was new. She had grown up with the house looking just this way, filled with just these things that had been passed down through generations from the days of the monarchy. And now...soon some, perhaps most or even all of these things that had for all her life formed the tapestry of her home, would be gone.

It was sad, but the kingdom came first; lives came first. This was a decision, she was sure, that Professor Ozpin would have approved of.

"Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha turned, to see Jaune standing a little way down the hallway, looking at her.

"Jaune," she murmured.

"Is everything okay?" Jaune asked, as he began to walk - a little awkwardly - down the hall towards her.

Pyrrha said, "Mother has just agreed to sell some of our family heirlooms, to raise money for the cause."

Jaune's eyes widened a little. "Pyrrha, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," Pyrrha said.

"No, it isn't," Jaune said. "It might be the right thing to do, but that doesn't make it fine."

"Perhaps not," Pyrrha conceded. "But it has to be done. Others...they've made far greater sacrifices, haven't they?"

"I suppose so," Jaune murmured. He thrust his hands into his pockets and looked away for a moment. "Marry me, Pyrrha."

He had spoken so softly and so suddenly that, for a moment, Pyrrha thought she must have misheard him, her strong desire playing tricks upon her mind. "What did you say?"

Jaune looked at her, and as he pulled his hands out of the pockets of his jeans, she saw that he had a ring! He had a ring in his hand! The sapphire gleamed atop the band of gold, and the fact that it was in Jaune's hand and that he meant to place it upon her finger, made it the most beautiful ring Pyrrha had ever seen.

"I'm sorry it took so long," he said.

Pyrrha gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. "Jaune..."

"I thought..." Jaune said. "I thought that I would need to make some grand gesture, or that I ought to wait until things had calmed down. I didn’t know what to do, so I went around asking people for advice: Arslan, Sun and Neptune, Autumn, Nora-”

---

“Oh my god, just do it!” Nora yelled. “Just...just do something, say something, to let her know that you actually care about her! Do it before she starts to wonder if she actually matters to you at all, and if she might just be wasting her life on somebody who barely even notices that you’re standing there and you’ve been standing there this entire time!”

Jaune took a step backwards. “Are...are we still talking about me and Pyrrha?”

Nora sighed, her whole body sagging forwards. “She doesn’t care how you do it, Jaune. Pyrrha doesn’t need you to put on a musical number or find the most beautiful spot in all of Mistral or recreate her parents’ marriage proposal; she just needs you to show her that you care, as much as she does.”

---

“I think Nora actually gave me the best advice of anyone,” Jaune admitted. “I was so nervous because I thought that my proposal needed to be as perfect as you are but...but the truth is...the truth is the only thing matters is that I love you, Pyrrha Nikos; you're my whole world, and I...I don't know what's going to happen next. I don't know if...and I don't want you to-"

Pyrrha, who had closed the distance between them while he was babbling, put one finger to his lips. She smiled, and if her smile reflected her happiness, then surely it was as bright as the sun by now. "You had me at 'marry me.'"

Jaune stared at her. His whole body trembled. "So...that's a yes?"

"Yes!" Pyrrha cried, as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. "Yes, I will marry you, Jaune Arc."

She held out her hand, as Jaune slipped the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit.

Author's Note:

The characters of Hector, Alkim and Lauren were created by Cody Fett and Cyclone for their fic Spark to Spark, Dust to Dust - which you will probably enjoy if you're still liking this story - alongside a fourth character who was not suitable for use by me. Although I came up with the names for Team VLCA some time ago, the physical descriptions and some of the personality details were also developed by Cody and Cyclone.

Comments

[Pinklestia]

Is Sunset dead? That's why she has only showed in flashbacks lately?

[TheArbiter1]

Pyrrha Nikos had been born to leadership, but she was not a leader. All the virtue of Mistral and all its proud and ancient history flowed through her veins, but that had not made her the sort of leader of men that Mistral had produced in times long past. She was the descendant of heroes, emperors, and warlords but, though it seemed she had inherited their skill at arms - and though she had, she hoped, inherited the qualities of character that had animated the best of them - she had not inherited the qualities of leadership that had enabled those same ancestors to carve out a great empire and bring a fractious land together under the cloak of peace and the rule of war. It was unfortunate that at a time when Mistral had need of a Juno, it had instead one of Pyrrha's lesser calibre. Daughter of the Empress Pyrrha the Second, Juno had been given by her father to a kindly shepherd and his wife to raise in secret as their own child; when her true parentage had been revealed, she had raised an army from amongst the common people and retaken Mistral from the Red Queen's heirs; it was said that command had sat upon her shoulders as naturally as armour.

Oh a reference to Cyrus the Great rise to the throne. Seems like a lot of people want to restore the Mistralian monarchy and have Pyrrha be empress.

[Sollys]

10259095
Better hope not.

But cute chapter, not going to lie.

[Mastermind4892]

Wow, you really missed getting to write Pyrrha! And what a marvelous joy it is, to see such a chapter devoted entirely to her doing so well and alive! And congratulations at long last, to Pyrrha and Jaune! Together at last! I have no words! Someone call for Pinkie Pie to make a wedding cake, and she'll absolutely get it to Mistral in some strange way that nopony can understand!

And once again, thank you for brightening my whole week. It is so good to see so much from Pyrrha's eyes in Volume 4!

66.media.tumblr.com/4dc3bbd70ac83053e1a8ab2c5ed08ca1/tumblr_p13z7fGxh11wsuugto1_500.jpg

[JMP]

10259095
No, Sunset's not dead, it's just been a while since we've focused on her story. She passed over a mountain and fought off...Nightmare Moon, was it? And then the labyrinth. This is like Volume 4 where there's several different plots going on at once, except we're not switching between them very often.

[Scipio Smith]

10259260
We're taking a Two Towers approach were everything gets covered off and then the focus moves on rather than hopping from storyline to storyline.

[JMP]

10259275
...it's been way too long since I've seen LOTR but yes, that's a great way of putting it and is basically what I was trying to say.

[Valiant Knight]

Their leader, Jade Charn, was standing a little to one side from the rest of her teammates, eating those sweets called iokum that she loved so much but which nobody else Pyrrha knew could stand.

Jade popped another piece of iokum into her mouth. She was swathed in a cloak of green, trimmed with white fur at the collar and hem, and her hands, one of which emerged from the recesses of the cloak to pluck sweets from the bag she held in her other hand, were concealed beneath white, fur-trimmed gloves. Her lips were painted a rich rouge.

“What if it doesn’t?” Jade suggested. “What if it is a winter that lasts forever? Always winter but never the holidays.” She popped another iokum into her mouth and began to chew on it.

Is it just me that’s getting Jadis the White Witch vibes here? Turkish delight, white fur coat, always winter but never Christmas...
Also, never tried Turkish delight, but I hear that it’s just like... rosewater flavored gelatin covered in a dusting of powdered sugar. Blegh. Doesn’t really seem worth betraying your brother and sisters for.

[RolkFlameraven]

She is going to have to swap that "uncrowned princess" title for that of Crowned Queen, if she truly hopes to pull her country back together. Right now she has the will of the people.

Sadly she doesn't have the drive or the want. This makes her ideal for the crown, but people like her don't go looking for it, those around her are going to have to make her see its the best thing for her people.

Never thought I would be rooting for a coup in a country that isn't evil, just corrupt.

[Scipio Smith]

10259956
No, that's completely intentional. As I said in the author's note the characters of Hector, Alkim and Lauren were created by my beta readers, Cody and Cyclone, were they are members of Team VTLK and are based off of the rival characters to the inspirations for Team JNPR, whom they oppose in the 4 v 4 of the Vytal Festival: Hector is obvious, Lauren is based on Loki and Alkim is a steppe nomad for Mulan. The fourth member of the team that they came up with, however, was Jaune's sister Verte Arc; and as fun of a character as she was - she's Ruby with a flamethrower, basically - I obviously couldn't use her, and since Arslan is the fourth member of Pyrrha's combat team here and since apparently Arslan is based on Aslan then a White Witch analogue was the obvious replacement.

[TristanWE]

“Yeah,” Nora said, sounding a little embarrassed about this whole situation. “I mean, he was pretty clueless, right? I could tell you liked him, but he…and then it’s like you did something to flip a switch in his head, so what did you do?”

I think it was actually Sunset who flipped the switch

[kyubbiman]

10260162
The phrase "Ruby with a flamethrower" in and of itself is moderately terrifying

[MSie95]

"And the masked man living beneath the opera stage was just an urban myth but I still won all the awards for a show about him," Autumn said. "That is why I'm the writer and you're the protagonist: because I understand that you can't always sweat the details. I can't just write about grimm attacks and bandit raids, and do you know why? Because people will just think about grimm attacks and bandit raids! Everyone knows that monsters exist; they need stories to teach them that monsters can be fought. People need heroes they can believe in more than they believe in monsters; they need a story they can believe in, and you've got the best one in the house."

Bringing hope is important, but stories about heroes can make people apathetic. Instead of doing something they'll just for a hero to arrive and save them. Besides it can make people more interested in fame than doing what's right or moral. Attitude very prevalent in Mistral. Being a Huntsman is like being a Doctor a mechanic on the ship or an airplane. Huntsman have just higher rate or mortality. You wake up, keep people safe and in one piece, eat, go to sleep- rinse and repeat until you die. The rest is just filling the empty space, but Glory? Everyone is so obsessed with in one form or another.

Ditzy shook her head. "The girl he chose...she wasn't very nice. She didn't treat him right. In the end...I couldn't keep watching her treat him bad like that; I couldn't keep watching him let her treat him that way. It was easier just to go someplace else." She looked at Pyrrha, or at least she seemed to be looking at Pyrrha. "You're a real lucky girl, you know?"

I place my bet. It's Flash, isn't it?

"You think that the police officers from whom you extracted him have not talked?" Lady Nikos asked. "The behaviour of the guest reflects on the host, you know this."

One person represents the whole thing is that it?

"Then when will we see some sign of it?" Lady Nikos demanded. "Mistral is under siege, you and your companions - barely more than children - fight to hold back the darkness that surrounds us, and meanwhile, this man, this trained huntsman of such renown, sits safely here within the city, indulging his fondness for strong drink."

She has a point, though. Qrow will drink himself to death.

Onthe side note, I've just noticed how much in common him and and Rainbow have. They both didn't belong in the society. They both walked through their life without any purpose or point, until they've met someone who gave it to them and became fiercely loyal to them. Qrow was disappointed in Ozpin. I wonder what will happen to Rainbow's faith. Seeing her in Volume 8 would be most interesting.

“Oh my god, just do it!” Nora yelled. “Just...just do something, say something, to let her know that you actually care about her! Do it before she starts to wonder if she actually matters to you at all, and if she might just be wasting her life on somebody who barely even notices that you’re standing there and you’ve been standing there this entire time!”

Jaune took a step backwards. “Are...are we still talking about me and Pyrrha?”

This is it what it needed- some nice, comedic moment. Everyone is always so serious and gloomy in the whole thing. Life can be serious but it also has its share of comedic moments. Things are more depressing that RWBY latest seasons.

[Scipio Smith]

10531771
Interesting point re: Rainbow and Qrow, I hadn't really considered that but you make a lot of sense.

Volume 8 would be very different because if Rainbow as around Ironwood would have made different decisions in volume 7.

[MSie95]

10532812
Or Rainbow would go Harriet route. They both are competitive and hot-headed speedsters with undying loyalty. Rainbow even seem to hold a grudge against Sunset, just like Harriet disdained the Heroes. And they both dislike Robyn.

Would be rather classic Friend or Idol decision. Depends if Rainbow would call out Ironwoods on his actions.