SAPR

by Scipio Smith

Thebes

Thebes

Three months earlier...

Pyrrha had thought that, once she reached the point at which she had mastered her semblance so completely that people began to seriously speculate that she didn’t have one, that she was done with learning new powers. Of course, that somewhat complacent attitude was a good part of the reason why the revelation of the power of the Maidens had come as such a shock to her, but it also meant that once she found herself in possession of the power of one of the Maidens, she also found herself back in a position she had not been in for some years: trying to learn to control a power so well that nobody even knew that she had it.

And it was control that was the problem, not use, or at least not basic uses. Pyrrha didn't struggle to get a reaction out of her newly-given magic, any more than she had struggled to use her semblance when she had first unlocked it. She could feel the mantle of the Fall Maiden coiled around her aura; when she closed her eyes, she could visualise her aura as a red light shining from within her, but now, there were bands of brilliant gold wrapped about the red like a spiralling bracelet embracing her arm. She could feel its power, through her aura but yet distinct from it, and she could reach for that power as easily as she reached for her semblance. It hummed contentedly when she touched it, as it were, through her aura, as though it wanted to be used.

Pyrrha opened her eyes. She sat within a cabin on one of the converted skyliners that the Mistralians had brought to Vale and which now bore the survivors of their host - and all the Mistral-born student huntsmen too - back home. The cabin was narrow, with half the space being taken up by the two bunks for herself and Jaune, but there was enough room for her to sit cross-legged and meditate. The door was closed, and she was alone, Jaune having stepped out to get some fresh air. Before her sat, upon the metallic floor, a glass of water and a planted bedding tray that she had bought in Vale before they left; daffodil bulbs waited beneath the soil, invisible to her eye. For now, at least.

Pyrrha focussed upon the glass of water first, raising her hand and reaching out towards the drink, both physically and with her new magic.

Ice began to form upon the glass, spreading upwards towards the rim and downwards towards the floor and outwards across the water itself, freezing it into a solid, opaque white block. Pyrrha frowned. This was the easy part. The hard part was stopping the ice from spreading across the floor as well as the glass.

The hard part was stopping.

The ice reached the bottom of the glass before it had reached the top or spread throughout the water in it. Pyrrha willed it to stop heading down, to move only upwards and across, but she struggled to communicate her will to her magic. She watched in frustration as sparkling crystalline ice began to form upon the floor, crawling outwards in a ring.

Pyrrha clenched her fist with a soft, wordless huff of frustration, forcibly pulling her magic completely back inside of her, stopping the progress of ice everywhere: across the floor and within the glass. Pyrrha unclenched her fist. It was always thus; she could set loose the magic, but once she had set it loose, she could not then control it short of ceasing to use it completely. And then there was the problem that once she got emotional, it would spring out, whether by her leave or no, like the fire that had just sprung into the palm of her hand as she thought about this.

She sighed and held the fire down beside the glass, holding it there until, eventually, after some minutes of staring at it, the ice melted. Water began to drip down and spread out across the floor, lapping at her greaves. This was about the greatest level of control that she possessed over her magic: she could conjure up a modest flame in the palm of her hand and keep it modest without extinguishing it, which she didn't do until the water in the glass began to boil and bubble, at which point, she withdrew her hand and quenched the flame by closing her fist. She had that much control over it, but she needed more: she needed to be able to control when the magic came and when it stayed hidden. She needed to be able to conjure more than a small fire burning on her palm without fearing that she was about to unleash a raging inferno that she could not stop. She needed to achieve the same pitch-perfect mastery of her magic that she had achieved with her semblance and to do so without the years of training that had taken her. Until she could wield the powers of the Fall Maiden as subtly as she had - until recently - wielded Polarity, she would be forced to simply not use it at all, just as she had not used her semblance in her early days in competition. Not use it, save in direst need. Just as importantly, and just as concerning for Pyrrha, was the fact that even when she achieved a measure of control over her power, that control would be limited to the most basic manifestations of her magic; without someone like Professor Ozpin to teach her, she had no idea how to use her powers to accomplish the feats that she had seen Cinder perform with them or that were credited to the ancient Maidens in the stories that Sunset had discovered. Of course, the conditions for training at the moment were less than ideal - she hadn't dared try to manifest her powers as gale or breeze or thundering tempest for obvious reasons - but when would they be ideal? Even when she got home, she would hardly be able to flaunt her abilities whilst she learned to control them.

Perhaps it was all a fool's game, and she should simply accept that she had been given these abilities to hold, not to use. The most important duty of a Maiden was to keep her powers safe so that they might be passed on, in due time, to the next worthy Maiden, and they were kept safest by being kept secret. But it irked Pyrrha to accept such an analysis. If secrecy was all, the powers could have stayed with Sunset in her cell; instead, Sunset had sacrificed that which she had long desired and strived for, giving up these powers to Pyrrha that they might be used, for the good of the world. And even if it had not been so, even if Pyrrha had come to Maidenhood by some more common means, then she still would have felt - have feared - that the time was coming when the powers of the Maidens could not remain hidden from the world.

Because if it came to a choice between preserving the secrecy of her magic and saving a life...well, that was no choice at all, was it?

Pyrrha started as the door opened, but fortunately, it was Jaune. Of course it was; he had the only other keycard to get into the room, but Pyrrha still felt a little nervous every time the door opened on her in this position.

The door closed behind him as he walked into the room. Jaune looked at the water on the floor. "How's it going?"

Pyrrha sighed. "The same as ever." She glanced at the bedding tray beside her. "Although you're just in time for me to try something new."

"You mean the reason you brought those bulbs on board?"

Pyrrha nodded. "Do you remember the story that is all - almost all - that remains of the memory of the Maidens?"

"I...guess so," Jaune said, as he sat down on the bottom bunk, his back hunched, as much as his armour would allow, to avoid him banging his head.

"The Maidens were not created to be great warriors," Pyrrha reminded him. "The magic was not bestowed upon the first Maidens that they might go forth and fight or even so that they could guard the vaults housing the four relics. Magic was granted to four young women because they had brought hope to the old man who blessed them, after they had blessed him in turn with their virtue. I...I know that I am a warrior and that it is because I am a warrior that I was chosen, first by Professor Ozpin and then by Sunset, but all the same...since I have this magic, I would like to use it for something more than to bring about death and destruction. Rather, in however small and secret a fashion, I should like to see if I can use it to bring about life, as the early Maidens did."

And so, she held out her hand towards the tray and stretched out her magic towards the soil where the daffodil bulbs slumbered, willing them to grow, to come forth as the first Summer Maiden had brought forth the bounty of the world in the old man's garden in the story that Pyrrha had heard as a little girl.

For a moment, nothing happened. At least, Pyrrha could see nothing happening, although she could feel the magic rushing through her arm. And then, as she watched, she saw the soil begin to shift, to move as though there was a worm beneath it wriggling about. But it was not a worm; rather, it was the tips of the daffodil plants that began to sprout up out of the soil, nubs which grew to long green shoots, rising and rising, climbing upwards towards her hand before, as Pyrrha gasped in surprise, they began to flower. She pulled back her magic as the yellow flowers opened, facing her as though she were the sun. She ceased to work on them, fearing what too much magic she could not fully control might do to them; she had done enough already.

Pyrrha laughed delightedly, unable to help herself, as she beheld the fruits of her magic. "Did you see that?" she asked Jaune. "I did that." Another laugh emerged from her throat. "I did that," she repeated.

Jaune nodded. "And it was...amazing," he whispered.

"I'm not sure it was as much as all that," Pyrrha replied, "but I'm just glad that I was able to do it." She was pleased that, in however small a way, she had proven - at least to herself - that she could do more with this precious gift bestowed upon her than fight or kill with it. However absurd it might seem, it made her feel just a little more worthy of this blessed burden than she had felt before.

It comforted her, and in this time, she felt in need of comfort.

---

Present Day…
The airship sped for Thebes alone.

All the rest had dispersed, scattered to other places in need under the commands of Sun, Violet, and Nadir, the last being given his chance at leadership upon Arslan’s recommendation. There was only one ship bound for Thebes, its propeller beating through the air as it drove them on, bursting through the clouds on their way to the endangered town.

The mood within was quiet and tense. Hector’s face was grim, his jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his spear. Jade’s face had turned even paler than usual as she pursed her lips tightly together. The tension in Ren’s muscles was plain to see. Those who did not seem so on edge about the situation, like Lauren, knew better than to speak in these circumstances, and so, a silence ruled amongst them as they flew.

Pyrrha didn’t try to break the silence. She didn’t try to offer false reassurance to those who felt oppressed by this situation. It was not the question of their own survival that dominated – there was no doubt in her mind, and she hoped not in the minds of those who fought alongside her, that they would defeat the grimm – but rather, the survival of those for whom they fought. How much of Thebes would remain by the time they defeated the grimm? How many people of that town would be left? How many would they be too late to save?

That question was the one they couldn’t answer. That question was the reason everyone looked as though they were trying to make the airship go faster through sheer force of will.

At least they had a strong following wind which, as if in obedience to their collective will and desire, had sprung up behind them as they flew and bore them forth with some of the greater swiftness they felt sore in need of.

I would rather face some great lieutenant of Salem in the open field, with no innocent lives at stake, than fight any more of these battles for the survival of others.

But fate had decreed that it should not be so. Fate had decreed that she should take up the charge of protecting Mistral and its settlements. This was the destiny that she had chosen, in the end.

She noticed Swift Foot perched upon the edge of the airship, the wind blowing through her long, wavy hair, ruffling its soft waves as she held onto the open doorway with one hand and looked out of the vessel.

As a baptism of fire, this will not be a gentle one.

Pyrrha knelt down beside her. “Do you see anything?”

Swift Foot shook her head. “Nothing yet,” she admitted.

Pyrrha nodded. “This battle…you haven’t joined us for the easiest first fight you could have had as part of our group.”

“All the more reason for me to join you now,” Swift Foot said, a smile playing across her face.

“I suppose,” Pyrrha acknowledged. “When the fighting begins, stay close to me. I would rather not have to tell your father how you died, however brave your end might be.”

“Trust me,” Swift Foot said. “I have no intention of dying today, or any other day for some time yet.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Pyrrha said. She stood up, feeling the wind blowing through the airship upon the back of her neck. “Jaune, do you see anything over Thebes yet?” The drones were often faster than their airships. There was no response. “Jaune?”

“Sorry, Pyrrha,” Jaune said. “It’s just there’s a lot more to try and take in here than usual, plus with more drones in the air, I’m having to help out as an operator too. I – ah! Making it even harder is the fact that we’ve got nevermores in the skies, so it’s a little difficult to get a clear look around without getting our equipment eaten. At the moment, I think the walls are keeping out most of the grimm, but I’m not sure how much longer that’s going to last.”

“What kind of grimm are we talking about?” Pyrrha asked.

“As far as I can see? A regular zoo of different kinds,” Jaune said. “Beowolves, ursai, creeps; there’s a goliath battering the wall, that’s why I think it’s not going to hold for very long. But I think I’ve identified a rally point. Hang on; I’m switching to the general frequency: Hector, the tall building on the eastern side of the central square, what is it?”

“The Old Palace?” Hector said. “It used to be the lord’s seat, when there was a lord; now, it’s a hotel.”

“So it’s an old building; are the walls as thick as they look?” Jaune asked.

Hector nodded. “Yes.”

“Then that’s where you should get everybody,” Jaune said. “When you reach the town, Team Jalapeno will defend the palace and everyone inside while Team Prawn will assist in search and rescue; once everyone has retreated inside the palace, then-“

“Search and destroy,” Nora declared gleefully.

“Exactly,” Jaune said. “Take out all the grimm.”

“I need to find Andromache,” Hector insisted.

“We will find her,” Pyrrha promised. “And protect her, and your child. I swear, we will let no harm befall her.”

Hector hesitated, before he nodded. “Very well. I will do as I am commanded, my lady.”

Jaune said, “You should be in sight of Thebes-“

“I see it!” Swift Foot cried, pointing out of the airship. “There it is!”

Pyrrha grabbed the open doorway as she, too, leaned out of the airship, casting a shadow over Swift Foot as she did so.

The first thing that she saw was the columns of smoke rising into the sky, dark plumes like snakes uncoiling as they wound their way upwards toward the sun, darkness around which the nevermores swooped and dived and circled over the town.

Thebes was a town, not a village, and so it was a little better prepared to defend itself against this kind of an attack: it had a wall of brown stone and mud brick, rising perhaps some thirty feet up above the ground and wide enough for a man to walk along it, with wooden watchtowers rising up at intervals just behind. Pyrrha could already see muzzle flashes coming from the wall, as the townsfolk, with whatever guns they possessed, tried to keep the grimm at bay while they waited for assistance to arrive.

A nevermore swooped down from out of the sky, and some of those muzzle flashes were silenced.

“Jaune, can you contact the town?” Pyrrha demanded.

“After the initial call for help, we’ve gotten no responses. They must have abandoned the communications relay to take shelter. At least, I hope that’s what happened.”

“So do I,” Pyrrha murmured.

“I might have another way we can let them know that help has arrived,” Swift Foot said, and without waiting for anyone to reply, she raised her great horn to her lips and blew upon it, a strong clear call that split the skies as it echoed out around them. Pyrrha felt a chill down her spine as she heard the call with a sense of urgency, a feeling that she ought to go to Swift Foot’s aid, however absurd that might be, and yet, she found it also gave her courage: now let the enemies of Mistral beware.

Certainly, the horn call appeared to have reached the ears of the nevermores, who responded with shrieking cries of their own as, their flights disrupted, they seemed to wobble in mid-air, breaking off their descents upon the town. Indeed, as the airship bore them ever closer to Thebes, Pyrrha could see the shapes of the grimm around, small at this distance, the size of insects to her eyes as they swarmed around the town like ants assailing a nest of termites; they busied themselves in packs and herds, hurling themselves in black masses against the defences, but even they appeared to have halted when they heard the horn call, their heads turned to gaze with burning red eyes up at the airship.

One nevermore, bolder than the others, swooped across the sky, passing through a pillar of smoke to head in their direction with a cry of rage.

"Pyrrha! There's a nevermore coming right at you!" Jaune cried, because sometimes, even master tacticians can do no more than state the obvious.

"Turn the airship," Pyrrha called to the pilot up in the cockpit. "Bring us broadside facing the creature."

The airship turned slowly in the air, presenting more of the side and central compartment to the nevermore which continued to close the distance with them, black wings beating at the air.

Pyrrha reached over her shoulder for Miló, her weapon shifting into rifle mode as she took aim and opened fire at the giant grimm which flew towards them, gaping maw open, claws and talons grasping eagerly. Miló barked defiantly; arrows flew from Alkim's bow, Winter’s Friend, as her arm moved swifter than the eye could follow; pink trails followed the grenades that spat from the mouth of Magnhild to slam with equally pink explosions into the grimm. But, though the nevermore shrieked as the grenades struck home, though it was covered in arrows jutting from its great black feathers, nevertheless, it neither died nor turned from its course towards them. It kept on coming, and Miló's bullets seemed to discomfort it not at all. Pyrrha emptied her magazine, but though she reloaded - her hands moving with such practiced swiftness that she didn't need to take her eyes off the grimm that approached - she did not resume firing when it was clear that it would do no good. Miló simply didn't have the calibre for a grimm this size. None of them did, judging by the effects of their fire.

“Jade, use your semblance,” Lauren said.

“Against something that size?” Jade squawked. “I don’t have enough aura.”

But I have power enough of a different sort, Pyrrha thought.

In these months defending Mistral, Pyrrha had never used the powers of the Fall Maiden in anger. But, while she had endeavoured to preserve the secrecy of her powers as - she had no doubt - Professor Ozpin would have wished, she had always been clear with herself she would not place that cloak of secrecy higher than the lives of her comrades, or of those they fought to protect.

It seems the time has come.

Pyrrha raised her hand and felt the golden coils about her aura pulsing with anticipation as she unleashed the magic in the midst of battle for the first time.

The nevermore flew towards the airship, screeching in that horrible, high-pitched cry as it came. But as it cried, and as it flew, so it seemed to slow; in fact, it did slow, it slowed and became more ungainly in the air, wobbling up and down, having to flap its wings more wildly in order to maintain its altitude and course as ice began to coat its feathers. It was as though the beast had flown too high, rising into the deathly cold that ruled the higher regions of the sky, but it had not risen too high, this was not the cold of height that was spreading across its body. This was Pyrrha, able to let loose her power without fear of the consequences of letting it run rampant. The ice spread across the neveremore's dark form, from the tips of its feathers to coating them completely, from the wings to the body; the talons became frozen in place as icicles dangled from them; the nevermore's wings ceased to bend properly, they could only flap up and down like slabs of wood on hinges; the nevermore shrieked in alarm as the ice spread across its body and down its neck, engulfing the white bone head and the wicked beak in a layer of crystalline, sparkling ice.

The grimm fell to Remnant, its frozen body turning in air. It had started to turn to ashes even before it struck the ground.

Pyrrha clenched her fist, reining back her magic with a heavy breath that made her bosom heave. Swift Foot was looking at her in awed amazement, and she was not alone in doing so; there was astonishment in the eyes of Team JHAL, and a mixture of jealousy and admiration in the face of Arslan Altan. Pyrrha looked away from all of them. She would need to give some sort of an explanation to JHAL, and to Swift Foot, in due course, but not right now. Right now, there were more nevermores haunting the skies over Thebes, and however Swift Foot's horn had dismayed them, they seemed to be recovering from it now.

"Take us in," Pyrrha commanded. "Don't worry about the nevermores."

"Pyrrha," Jaune said, "what are you doing?"

"What I must, Jaune," Pyrrha murmured, "and nothing more."

She heard Jaune sigh on the other end of the line, but she was grateful that he didn't try and talk her out of it. "Good luck out there," he whispered. "You've totally got this."

There was a moment of hesitation before the airship changed course again to head directly into Thebes and into the flock of a half-dozen nevermores who circled overhead like carrion birds.

As the airship approached, passing over the stone wall to the cheers of the defenders on the rampart, they stopped circling and began to close in on the intruding interloper.

“Are you sure about this?” Arslan asked as the harsh cries of the nevermores rang out, drawing guttural growls and roars from the ground-bound grimm beneath. “I prefer to fight the grimm with my feet on the ground.”

“And we will,” Pyrrha assured her. “Just as soon as I’ve taken care of the sky.”

She stepped back from the edge of the airship doors, so that she stood instead in the centre of the compartment. Pyrrha closed her eyes and stretched out her arms on either side of her.

Aura. She could feel her aura burning within her, the crimson light of her soul surrounded by the golden rope of magic that now was bound to her. Pyrrha reached for that golden rope, and it exploded with a brilliant light that blinded her inner eye.

She opened her eyes as they began to burn with eerie green fire. She flung out her magic in six directions, coating the floor of the airship with frost on its way out to the open doors, causing icy droplets to form in the air as her magic travelled on its way to the nevermores, the grimm descending on them as though they were the hunters instead of the prey.

And the magic took them all. One by one, but in such quick succession that none were left with time to escape, they were all consumed by the ice that spread across their feathers and their claws, that froze their wings and stuck them in place, that covered their entire forms in the deadly cold.

One by one, the magic took them, and one by one, they fell to the ground like dead partridges shot down by the guns of the shooters, save that these partridges were all mere dust and ashes before they completed their descent.

Pyrrha knelt on the floor of the airship, her greave hitting the deck with a metallic thump, as she pulled the magic back inside herself, wrestling it under control, out of sight, and out of use. As the flames died around her eyes, she saw the ice that she had conjured across the floor of the airship.

I still need more control.

“Pyrrha?” Swift Foot asked.

Arslan knelt down in front of her. “Are you okay?”

Pyrrha took a deep breath before she got to her feet. “I’m fine,” she said. The use of magic was temporarily wearying – if only because she wasn’t used to it – but her aura was completely intact, and her strength was unimpaired.

“What was that?” Jade murmured.

“A miracle that this town needed,” Hector replied. “Now we must deliver another.”

Pyrrha looked over her shoulder at him. “Quite right, Hector, and so we shall.” With her Polarity, she summoned Miló into her right hand and Akoúo̱ into her left. “Jaune, do you have clearer eyes now?”

“Sky is clear, and my eyes are open,” Jaune reported. “I don’t know how much longer that wall is going to hold.”

“Understood,” Pyrrha said. “Team Jalapeno, continue to the palace; Team Prawn will drop here and aid the civilians.”

“Got it,” Jade said, popping a sweet into her mouth for good luck.

“Fortune favour you,” Hector said. He hesitated. “If you-“

“We will protect her,” Pyrrha said. “And all of them.”

They were over the wall and into the town now, and although the wall itself yet stood, it was clear that there were plenty of grimm who had gotten over the wall by scaling it in places where it was undefended. A beowolf had climbed a tall spire so that it was almost level with their airship, until Alkim shot it in the chest and it tumbled to the ground with a whimper before disintegrating. Ursai and beowolves alike prowled the streets, while the people took refuge upon the flat roofs of the two- or three-storey buildings. Except the grimm were starting to scale those, too.

One such building was close by, a flat, low tower of yellow brick with painted shutters on the windows and a group of people – men, women, and children – huddled on top of the roof. They held out their pleading hands to Pyrrha and her companions as a beowolf, the first of many, dragged itself over the ledge with its claws.

“With me!” Pyrrha cried, as she cast Miló – in spear mode - with a strong arm to impale the grimm in the centre of its back; the beast howled in its death throes as Pyrrha leapt from the airship, her legs driving her across the blue sky to clear the ledge and land upon the roof. She held out one hand, and with her semblance recalled her spear into her outstretched grip. She ignored – out of necessity – the civilians calling her name; rather, she leapt up to see over their heads, Miló changing from spear to rifle in her hands as she put two shots into a beowolf scaling the wall on the other side of the pathetic huddle clustering for shelter in the centre of the roof.

An ursa poked its head above the parapet, but its head was all that it got the chance to show as Arslan hit it with a flying kick that sent the ursa – and Arslan with it – dropping down out of sight into the street. Nora followed, laughing wildly as she waved her hammer above her head, while Ren jumped to the roof first, a slightly long-suffering look upon his face, before he too leapt down to join Nora and Arslan.

They had all descended on the left of the building, which Pyrrha took to mean made it pretty secure, so she turned her attention to the right, dashing across the dusty roof to decapitate a beowolf who sought to gain the rooftop.

Swift Foot was the last to land, dropping to her knees as she made the longest leap from the now departing airship, her long hair flying in its wave-like curls.

An ursa major rose up behind her, long spikes sprouting from its black coat and armour plates upon its shoulders.

Swift Foot turned and sliced off its head in a single smooth stroke of her rhomphaia.

No other grimm attempted to gain the roof. Pyrrha dashed to the left-hand side, where Arslan, Ren, and Nora had departed, to see them locked in battle with an ever diminishing number of grimm, who were falling one by one to Arslan’s fists, Nora’s mighty hammer, and Ren’s guns and blades.

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said, “do we have a clear route to the centre?”

Jaune did not reply for a moment; Pyrrha could see him in her mind’s eye studying the aerial videofeed, trying to find a way that placed the civilians in the least danger.

“There’s no clear way,” Jaune said, “but I’ll talk you through the safest path I can find.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said as she turned to the group who had taken refuge up here. There were about twenty of them, of all ages, from old women with their heads covered to young children clutching their mother’s skirts. “Can you all move? You cannot stay here; it isn’t safe. We will lead you to the Old Palace where some of my comrades are waiting for us.”

An old woman, her skin wrinkled and her back bent, got to her feet. “We can all move, my lady, though I cannot guarantee that we can all move swiftly.”

“It cannot be helped,” Pyrrha said, because she had not the strength to have a huntress carry everyone who was a little slow on their feet. “Please, help one another as best you can, but we will protect you nonetheless. Swift Foot, bring up the rear.”

Swift Foot nodded. “As you wish.”

Pyrrha herself switched Miló back into rifle mode – she had three shots left – as she approached the open hatch that led down into the building itself. The wooden staircase downward looked so narrow and rickety, it was a wonder they had managed to get the more infirm of the people here up onto the roof in the first place.

They had done it because they would not leave any of their people behind, and with that spirit, they would survive this crisis and rebuild any damage the grimm might cause.

Pyrrha led the way, the wooden boards creaking beneath her, no matter how lightly she tried to tread as she descended into the third floor of the tower, to a landing strewn about with rugs in bright and complex patterns and a number of doors leading off the landing into the rooms. There was no sign of any grimm, nor any sound of them either.

She padded across the landing, her footfalls muffled now by all the carpets covering the floor beneath; she checked one room, and then another; they were clear, still no sign of any grimm. Perhaps the door had been locked and they had found it easier to scale the wall than to break down the door.

“Come down,” she called up to those on the roof, while she made her way to the next staircase down onto the second floor.

Pyrrha didn’t look back, but she could hear the first of them descending the stairs from the roof, the steps creaking heavily as they did so. Pyrrha walked quickly, and with steps as softly as she could, down the flight of stairs immediately before her.

She heard the door into the tower splinter. Her fingers tightened a little upon the trigger.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she heard Arslan demand, before a beowolf yelped in pain.

“Arslan?” Pyrrha called. “Was that the only grimm to get inside?”

“It was the first to get through the door, trying to get away,” Arslan replied. “It’s all clear out here, for now.”

Pyrrha only had to follow her out of the building to see the truth of it: Arslan, Ren, and Nora had cleared the street of grimm, at least for the time being. The four huntsmen took up positions at the ends of the narrow lane that ran beside the little tower as Swift Foot shepherded the civilians down from the roof to stand, huddled together, in the middle of the alley. Parents held their children in their arms, the young supporting the old as best they could; Pyrrha saw one or two of the smaller elders being carried upon the strongest backs of the not so old.

"Jaune," Pyrrha said, "do we still have a route to the hotel?"

"Yes," Jaune replied. "Are you ready to move?"

Pyrrha turned to her comrades. "I'll lead the way, with Nora behind me. Ren, Swift Foot, on either side; Arslan, will you please bring up the rear?"

"You got it," Arslan said.

To the people, Pyrrha said, "Stay together, please watch out for one another. If you see that someone has fallen behind or gotten lost, then call out. Are you ready?"

"Who is really ready for such as this?" asked the old woman from the rooftop.

A slightly weary chuckle escaped Pyrrha's lips. "That is an excellent point," she conceded. She tried to meet as many of the eyes of those who were depending on her and her comrades as possible. "We will keep you safe," she vowed. She turned away and once more raised Miló to her shoulder, ready to fire. "Jaune, where do we go?"

Pyrrha led the way, but it was Jaune's directions that she followed as he prompted her to go down this street, to take that turn, to go by the slightly more roundabout route to avoid some grimm; he no longer fought beside her, but he watched over her, her angel in the sky vigilantly ensuring no danger could sneak up on her undetected.

The route that Jaune directed her to take, through winding alleys and down back streets, past shuttered shops and silent houses, was not completely free of grimm, but it was as free of grimm as could be hoped for in such a situation as this. Those grimm they did encounter - a trio of beowolves here, a half-dozen creeps there, an ursa or two - were swept away like chaff before Pyrrha's swift sword, Nora's grenades, Swift Foot's shining blade, or Ren's green tracers; once or twice, a beowolf or an ursa came sniffing up behind the - slow moving, it had to be admitted - party, but Arslan's fists were sufficient to take care of them without assistance from the rest of the team. Their route saw them encounter not only grimm, but other survivors too, those who had sheltered upon other rooftops or barricaded their doors and windows, but who emerged or descended as they saw Pyrrha and her friends draw near. Some of them had bows or guns - rifles and shotguns for sport or hunting - or crossbows; they were welcome, but without aura or training, they were still in need of the protection of a huntsman; most had no weapons at all, but swelled the numbers of those sheltering under Pyrrha's protection as they made their way, both slowly and as swiftly as could be managed, towards the central square where the Old Palace and its stout walls waited.

"It looks like some people had the idea of taking shelter in the hotel already," Jaune informed her. "But that means-"

"They've drawn the grimm," Ren concluded.

"Unfortunately, yes," Jaune confirmed. "I think one of the reasons you had such an easy time up until now was that most of the grimm in town have already been drawn towards it. You're going to have to fight your way through."

"For what did we come here but to fight?" Swift Foot asked.

They arrived at the square, where they were confronted with the same sight that Jaune had already seen from his vantage point above: grimm swarmed over the paved plaza, beringels, beowolves, and ursai filling the air up with their foul cries. They had torn a bronze statue of a heroic figure in armour down from his plinth and trampled on him, gouging and clawing at the monument as though the sight of it offended them as they growled and snarled at the Old Palace and all who took refuge within it.

Team JHAL had made it there in time: Alkim was on the roof shooting down her deadly shafts at any grimm who came too close, and with her were all the people of Thebes who were armed with guns to shoot or bows to loose, and some of the unarmed people of the town were tearing tiles and stones from the roof itself to hurl them desperately down upon the grimm; Hector stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders looking considerably more sturdy than the doors themselves, fending off the monsters with a spear in one hand and a knife in the other; Jade, too, had a knife in her off-hand, but as she stood just behind Hector, her main weapon was the wand that she was using to channel blasts of ice dust at the grimm; Lauren appeared to be everywhere in the square, using their illusions to mislead and misdirect the monsters. A beringel leapt out of the press of grimm; Jade gestured with her knife towards it, and the grimm was turned to stone, shattering into pieces as it fell to the cobbled surface of the square. Jade faltered, half-collapsing against the hotel doorway; her semblance - Petrification - was powerful, but - unlike Ruby’s silver eyes, the power of which it slightly resembled - it consumed a great deal of her aura to use it once, even against an average grimm.

"Ren," Pyrrha said, "stay here and defend these people until we've cleared a path for you."

"Very well," Ren murmured.

"Arslan, Nora, Swift Foot," Pyrrha commanded, "follow me."

Once more, Swift Foot raised her horn to her lips and blew a long, defiant blast that echoed out across the town, a call which, though it drew the attention of the grimm, also made them cower and cringe before the sound, their bloodthirsty howling turning to frightened mewling as they shrank back from the sound that seemed to physically pain them.

Pyrrha didn't let the opportunity slip away; while the grimm cowered, she charged for them, Akoúo̱ held before her, Miló shifting fluidly into spear-mode in her hands. She charged, trusting that her friends would follow her, and as she charged, she heard the crackle of Ren's StormFlowers from behind, joined by the lower-pitched booming sounds of the civilian rifles. Pyrrha rushed towards an ursa major, her boots pounding a staccato drumbeat on the cobblestones, her sash like a fiery ribbon as it streamed behind her. The ursa was sluggish to react, dismayed and confused by Swift Foot's horn, and Pyrrha leapt off the ground to slam her shield into the grimm's chest, knocking it off balance and flat on its back, bony spines piercing the cobbles just as Pyrrha's spear pierced its throat to make an end of it. Miló switched from spear to sword in her hand as Pyrrha jumped down from the ursa's disappearing body to hack the head off a stunned beringel, then back to spear as she impaled a beowolf through the mouth. Her friends and comrades joined the battle: Nora dispatched two beowolves with a single swing of her hammer; Arslan kicked one high into the air before gutting it with her knife; Swift Foot drove her sword into an ursa's chest before drawing it out and spinning gracefully upon her toe to slice the grimm in half with her long blade.

The grimm were beginning to recover now from whatever spell Swift Foot's horn had cast upon them, and they met the huntsmen with teeth and claws and howls of outrage, swarming to meet both Pyrrha's group and Team JHAL guarding the Old Palace. They came in a great black mass masked with white bone, and in a mass, the protectors of Mistral cut through them; a beowolf lunged at Pyrrha, but she caught it on her shield and hoisted it over her head to dump it on the ground before she finished it off with a single thrust of Miló. Arslan traded punches with an ursa major, her fists clashing with its clawed paws as they each countered every stroke the other sought to make, brown hands and black paws moving ever more swiftly until Arslan unleashed a pulse of aura that rippled through the ursa's body and caused it to burst open like an overfilled bag. Nora brought her hammer down upon the head of a beringel, crushing it in a single hit. Swift Foot's sword weaved silver traces in the air as she slashed her way gracefully through a half-dozen immature beowolves.

Nora laughed with gleeful wild abandon as she slammed her hammer down onto the ground with such force that all the ursai that had gathered around her were knocked clean off their feet; Pyrrha and Swift Foot rushed to assist her in finishing them off. Arrows flew from Alkim's bow to take the eyes - and life - of an alpha beowolf. Hector grappled bodily with a beringel, wrestling it by its trunk-like arms onto its side so he could drive his knife into its throat. Another beringel began to charge at him, but Arslan buried her knife in its thigh and by the thread hauled it backwards to where her deadly fist was waiting for it. Swift Foot let a beowolf charge past her before she cut off its head, then drove her rhomphaia into the mouth of another; a third might have taken her from behind if Pyrrha had not thrown her shield at the grimm to stun it. She left the beowolf for Swift Foot to finish off; she held out her now-empty shield hand and called upon her semblance, not her magic, to pick up the fallen statue that the grimm had dethroned and use it to crush a particularly large and ferocious-looking ursa beneath its weight. And thus, they retook the square, slaughtering their way through the grimm and clearing a path to the palace doors for Ren to usher their charges through.

"Jade," Pyrrha asked, noting that Team JHAL's leader was still slumped against the doorway, "how's your aura?"

Jade pulled out her scroll - and a lokum, which she popped into her mouth. "Yellow," she said. "I'll be fine as long as I don't pick any fights."

Pyrrha smiled very slightly. "Hector, is Andromache safe inside?"

Hector's look was grim as he shook his head. "I haven't seen her."

"Where might she be?"

"The covered market," Hector suggested.

"I'll-" Pyrrha began.

"I'm afraid there's no time for that right now," Jaune said. "Pyrrha, you need to get to the wall right now; the goliath is about to breach it. Arslan, Ren, Nora, I need you to split up east south west, find any survivors and bring them back to the centre. New girl-"

"She's with me," Pyrrha said.

Swift Foot's purple eyes widened for a moment, before she nodded. "I would be honoured."

"I will look for Andromache as soon as I am done at the wall," Pyrrha promised Hector, but she had no time to wait upon his reply, for the north wall called to her, and she took off, feet and arms pounding, leaving Swift Foot to follow. The other girl did, and lived up to her name by drawing level with Pyrrha, her long blade glinting in her hand.

"You fight well," Pyrrha noted, as they ran through the streets.

Swift Foot bowed her head in acknowledgement. "You honour me once again, first with your company and now with your praise."

They kept running, dispatching any grimm they came across along the way: sometimes, they encountered a stray beowolf roaming aimless through the streets; sometimes, they turned aside briefly from their course to answer a cry for help, put an end to some local menace, and send whoever had been in need of aid back towards the Old Palace; sometimes, a particularly confident grimm or two sought to ambush them by leaping down upon them from the rooftops; one and all, Pyrrha and Swift Foot struck them down and continued onwards towards the north wall. As they approached, Pyrrha could hear the angry grunting of the goliath, hear the pounding as it hammered at the wall of rough-hewn stone with its head, and hear too the roaring of the other grimm as they awaited a breach in the walls through which they could flood in with all their malice.

The majority of the defenders on the wall were concentrated here, but their fire and arrows appeared to be of little avail, or at least they did not stop the pounding of the goliath upon the wall. Pyrrha's eyes widened as she saw the stone begin to buckle visibly, bricks coming loose and dust descending from the unsettled rampart. Pyrrha dashed up the wooden steps, the men on the stone parapet making way for her as she looked down from the wall to see the mighty goliath, seemingly unaffected by the arrows stuck in its bulk, patiently knocking on the wall, shaking it with the force of its impact, making some of the defenders lose their footing. And behind the goliath massed a great horde of grimm who, rather than scale the wall - if they could, for in this host were many boarbatusks - waited in a crude wedge formation to storm through the ramparts all at once. Pyrrha turned to Swift Foot as she slung Akoúo̱ onto her back.

"Wait here," she said, and leapt off the wall down onto the goliath, descending upon the grimm like a thunderbolt from the heavens. Miló was in its spear form, gripped tightly in Pyrrha's hands, and she fired as she fell for extra power in her descent. As she landed upon the goliath's black and oily back, she thrust her spear into the weak point at the nape of the creature's neck, the tip of Miló extending outwards an extra foot with a bang as Pyrrha fired again for whatever additional power she could muster as she drove her weapon down as far as she could. The goliath roared, it trumpeted in pain, its trunk waving wildly as it reared up on its hind legs, forelegs thrashing in its death agonies. Pyrrha leapt off the back of the dying goliath, spinning head over heels in the air as she summoned Miló into her hand before she landed deftly on her feet, facing the mass of grimm whose way into Thebes she had just eliminated.

The monsters glared at her. Pyrrha stared right back at them, Miló drawn back in one hand, her other hand free.

There was a moment of silence, before a great cry of raging disappointment was torn from the collective throats of all the grimm. Pyrrha could feel them tensing; in a moment, they would descend on her as one and tear her to pieces.

The flames burned green around Pyrrha's eyes as she slammed her hand into the ground and let the magic erupt out of her.

The flames that leapt from her hand - dancing flames of crimson and gold, reminding her for a moment of Sunset's luscious hair in the way it waved and danced - swept through the masses of the grimm, consuming some and making others yelp and howl and cry out in pain. The fires swept through them, and then, when the fires were quenched, Pyrrha hurled herself into their midst, with Swift Foot leaping from the wall to join her.

They were like foxes in a henhouse, and the decimated grimm were ground to dust before them.

---

When she was growing up, Arslan had loved cartoons. When she was a little kid, getting to watch them had been a reward if she worked hard in her training, but at the same time, they had also been an inspiration to her to keep training, those cartoons about martial-arts superheroes saving the world with their impossible skills.

And now, she found out that there really were magical items – okay, maybe they didn’t grant wishes, but still – and magical people too, and that had gotten her thinking about those cartoons that she used to watch when she was a child, and how they had gone on for so long, and the hero kept getting more and more powerful, that the guys who were almost as strong as the hero at the start of the story had become useless by the end; what good was a martial artist when there were people blowing up planets?

Arslan was starting to feel a little bit like that herself to tell the truth.

It wasn’t jealousy…okay, it wasn’t entirely jealousy or even mostly jealousy; she’d meant what she said to Pyrrha: she was trying to do some good in the world now after too long thinking only of herself and her career and her reputation and all that other stuff. She was trying to be better now, trying to do something for Mistral and all the people who lived there. But what good was she? What was she actually doing? Pyrrha could take out six nevermores just by thinking about it while she…what? She could punch things hard? She had a mean kick? So what?

She’d known that Pyrrha was way beyond her, way beyond what Arslan had thought, ever since the fight with Penny before the Battle of Vale kicked off. She’d known that Penny was way beyond her too, especially once she found her semblance. But that had only gotten worse once she found out that Pyrrha had come by some honest to the gods magic from somewhere.

She supposed that everyone else was in the same boat compared to Pyrrha, but that didn’t mean she liked it any better; she’d liked…gods forgive her, but she’d liked being second best, even if she could only dream of being the top. She liked being at least talked about in the same bracket as P-money. Good cause or not, she still didn’t much care for being lumped in with the rest.

But when she saw that her path – of killing grimm and rescuing the helpless – had led her to the covered market, the place where Hector had said his girlfriend might be, well…she could at least do this. Pyrrha had promised to find the girl, but Pyrrha wasn’t here right now and Arslan was, and it didn’t take the Fall Maiden to check out a place like this.

“Jaune, it’s Arslan,” she said. “I’m outside the covered market; I’m going to see what’s up inside.”

“Okay,” Jaune said. “Be careful in there.”

“Mm-hmm,” Arslan murmured, because Jaune meant well but was a bit of a worrywart sometimes. You couldn’t always stay safe or be careful. Sometimes, you had to take a little bit of risk in life.

Not that going inside was a risk, not for someone like her. She couldn’t even see any grimm around, which might be why Andromache had stayed inside; this might be the kind of place that felt safe.

So Arslan jogged up the stone steps that elevated the market just a little above the street that ran past it and pushed open one of the two metal gates that barred the way before she stepped inside.

The market was dark; there were no lights on and the windows were shuttered, perhaps to keep out the grimm; it was a large open emporium, with space for stalls of all descriptions laid out in the indoor courtyard; this was the place where the local farmers brought their stuff, where the traders visiting from Mistral set up shop, and where locals came day after day. In the dark, it was hard to see much, beyond the rough outline of some of the stalls that had already been set up before the attack started and everyone fled.

“Hello?” Arslan called. “Is anyone there? I’m a huntress with the Myrmidons; I’m here to get you to safety.”

No one answered. A musty silence hung heavy in the air.

“Hello?” Arslan called again. “Andromache?”

There was a noise; it sounded maybe like a whimper that somebody was trying to suppress. It was followed by a trio of taps, tap-tap-tap upon the floor of the market.

Arslan frowned and raised her fists into a guard as she took a step forward, and then another.

She felt something wet and slippery beneath the sole of her moccasin. Arslan looked down and saw the body lying in front of her: a man, slightly heavyset, ripped apart and bleeding all over the floor. She couldn’t see his face or any details about him, and she didn’t really want to; he was just a large bloody shape on the ground to her.

And to think there was a time I thought the grimm weren’t dangerous.

I almost miss those days.

Arslan reached up to the string of fire dust crystals that she wore around her neck, pulling one of them lightly off the string and igniting it with her aura before she tossed it in front of her. It landed on the ground, burning with a soft yellow flame, casting a light all around it. The circle of light was small, but it was enough for Arslan to see a little better as she walked forward. There were statues in here, a group of them clustered together, so probably for sale rather than permanently on display: a hero with his arm raised up, a woman with one breast uncovered, one that was further back into the darkness so that Arslan could only see the silhouetted outline of a winged figure standing on a plinth. Weird.

There was another whimpering sound, coming from…the left? Was it coming from the left over there? Arslan ignited another fire dust crystal and threw it that way, turning her back on the statues as she looked in the direction of her throw.

It didn’t reveal the source of the noise, but the fire did display a cracked statue of a robed woman, lying on her side as if she had been torn from her plinth and thrown across the market.

Arslan whirled, fists up, legs sliding into a combat stance as she turned to face the statue of the winged creature.

The statue that was no longer there, just an empty plinth.

Clever-

The harpy swooped down upon her from out of the darkness, bearing Arslan into the wall with a thump hard enough to crack stone and dent aura as it seized her by the shoulders with its claws. Its bony face was like a bird mask that a kid might wear to a party, save that it was bleached white with blood-red markings on it. It screeched into Arslan’s face as it tried to bite down upon her. Arslan jerked her head out of the way, so that the harpy’s mask slammed into the wall behind her instead, before she kicked out with her right foot into the harpy’s shin. The grimm cried out in pain, its grip on Arslan loosening long enough for Arslan to free one hand and punch the harpy across the jaw.

It released her amidst another screeching cry, its wings stretching out as it flew into the darkness.

A single black feather fluttered down into the firelight.

“Arslan?” Jaune called into her ear. “Arslan, are you okay?”

Arslan didn’t answer. She didn’t need his help, she didn’t need Ren or Nora, she didn’t need Pyrrha’s help with this either. It was just one grimm, and she could handle any one grimm.

Almost any one grimm.

Arslan pulled her knife out of her sleeve, holding it horizontally as she looked around. There was no sign of the harpy anywhere.

But that tap-tap-tap of the grimm’s talons told Arslan that she hadn’t left just yet.

“Coward,” Arslan muttered, as she stepped out of the circle of firelight and into the darkness. Most grimm were good sports enough to stand and fight, but this one…this one wanted to be sneaky.

This one wanted to hide in the dark.

For a brief moment, Arslan wished she was a faunus. Or just that she knew where the light switch for the market was.

I suppose I could ask Jaune if he or that girl Uiharu can pull up the specs, but I don’t need his help with this.

And I don’t really want to stand here talking in the dark with a grimm about.

Tap tap tap. Another whimpering sound. Arslan was absolutely certain that someone was in here.

“Don’t worry,” she called out. “Once I take care of this grimm, I’ll be right with you.”

She heard a fluttering sound; was it behind her? Arslan turned, her fist striking out to slam into one of the two statues, hitting it hard enough to shatter it into fragments of stone.

The harpy, in turn, struck Arslan from behind, kicking her across the market so that she flew through the air and landed on the floor, sliding across it until she shattered a wooden market stall laden with antiques which, in turn, fell on her and broke with much smashing of china and porcelain. Arslan came to rest before an antique hope chest, and another – louder – whimper accompanied her landing.

Found you, Arslan thought as she backflipped onto her feet facing the direction in which she had been struck.

The harpy emerged into the firelight. It was humanoid in shape, taller than a man – taller than most men, anyway – but with an idealised female figure, wide hips and a narrow waistline; its arms were lithe, but didn’t seem so at first because they were protected from above the elbow to the black clawed fingers by heavy vambraces of bone, with a pair of spikes jutting from each and red lines forming curved patterns across the white; its legs were thin and ended in a trio of talons upon each bird-like foot; a fire seemed to burn in its stomach, where a human’s belly-button would have been, and in the centre of its forehead just above and between its eyes; a pair of black wings unfurled from out behind it.

It let out a high-pitched, chittering laugh as it regarded Arslan pitifully.

“Oh yeah?” Arslan growled. “Then why don’t you come over here and finish me?”

The harpy charged, black wings spread out on either side. Arslan charged to meet it, teeth gritted and bared in a leonine snarl. The harpy hissed as it slashed at Arslan with one bone-protected arm; Arslan blocked the blow with her own forearm, feeling the impact pound her aura and travel down her arm besides; with her free hand, she punched the harpy in the gut, in the glowing ember that burned in its stomach, following up with a sideswipe kick as the harpy gasped in pain. The grimm leapt up, legs bending as Arslan's stroke passed harmlessly beneath; Arslan converted her kick into a spin on her toes, still spinning as she kicked herself up into the air for a second strike that caught the harpy in the thigh.

Years in the arena, and you think I never saw anybody jump a kick before? Insulting!

The harpy shrieked as Aslan's kick hurled it sideways and to the ground. It rolled to a stop, on all fours now, seeming a lot less human and a lot more bestial as it glowered at Arslan with its red eyes burning.

Arslan drew back her fists to strike.

The harpy threw itself upon her, its wings bearing it along in a flying leap to cross the distance separating the combatants. The harpy slashed at her with both its talons, but Arslan contorted her body backwards, letting the grimm pass overhead.

She fancied that there was surprise upon that bird-mask face as Arslan hit it, putting a good chunk of her aura into a strike that blew the harpy's head clean off.

The rest of it began to turn to dust as Arslan straightened up.

I’m not completely useless - yet, she thought. She wandered through the wrecked and broken antiques towards the trunk. From what she could see, it was old, with iron bands around the ancient wood. She knocked. "You can come out now; it's dead."

"Really? That's wonderful to hear," came a girl's voice from within. "I was opening up when I heard the...Paris tried to shut the gates, but...I hid from it in here. Are you one of Hector's companions?"

"Yes, my name's Arslan," Arslan said. "Are you Andromache?"

"Yes, that's right," Andromache replied. "Arslan...Arslan Altan? The Golden Lion?"

Arslan grinned. "Yeah, that's me. Listen, why don't you come out of that trunk; it's okay now."

There was a moment of pause. "Um...well, this is a bit embarrassing. You see...this is a very old chest-"

"You've locked yourself in, haven't you?"

"Not on purpose," Andromache said, somewhat defensively. "But...if you wouldn't mind helping me out?"

"Of course not," Arslan said, as she dug her fingernails into the crack between the lid and the main body of the chest, feeling the smooth varnish against her fingertips. She heaved upwards so hard that she ripped the lid clean off. "Ahem, sorry about that," Arslan said, as she let the lid drop to the floor with a clatter.

"It's quite alright," Andromache said, as she climbed out. "Is the fighting over?"

"Not yet, but I'll get you somewhere safe," Arslan replied. "Hector and his team are protecting everyone at the Old Palace. Oh, and congratulations, by the way."

---

Hector held Andromache in his arms, looking as though he might never let her go again; Andromache, for her part, rested her head upon his chest, her copper-coloured hair spilling out over his armour, looking as though, for her part, she might never want to be let go. It was really rather sweet. It was also rather personal, especially once he did release her and started talking about how the fear of losing her - losing both of them - had clarified for him what really mattered. Pyrrha took that as a sign that he was about to propose, or at least she couldn't help but feel it would be rather disappointing for Andromache if he was not, and so she turned away and left him to it, descending the steps from the Old Palace to where a modest crowd of Thebans waited for her, along with Swift Foot and Jade. The remaining members of Teams PRAN and JHAL were on the perimeter, checking the damage to the automated defences. From what they had seen so far, it appeared that most of the gun turrets had escaped intact, or with so little damage that they didn't need to be replaced: the grimm that had gotten over the walls had ignored them in favour of human prey, and the grimm that had been waiting outside the walls hadn't had the chance to do otherwise.

The magistrate of Thebes, a grey-haired woman with a stooped back and a lined face, who leaned upon a hickory stick, bowed her head yet further as Pyrrha approached. "It appears that some of us have been privileged to witness a miracle this day, Lady Pyrrha."

Pyrrha had a sinking feeling that she knew what the magistrate meant by that, but she affected ignorance as she said, "You're very welcome, but I'm not sure I'd call this a miracle. Just a day in the life of a huntress." She laughed uneasily.

The magistrate chuckled. "Such modesty, but it was not the deliverance of the town - grateful for it though we are, of course - but the miracle reported by some of our people on the wall, where you conjured fire out of nothing to destroy the grimm."

Pyrrha swallowed. She was willing to reveal the powers of the Fall Maiden if the choice was between doing so and risking loss of life, but at the same time, she was not particularly looking forward to explaining to strangers that she had magic. There were good reasons, after all, why the powers of the Maidens had been hidden by Professor Ozpin and his predecessors. She would let no one die to preserve the secret, but that didn't mean that she would not have rather the secret remained in place.

"Atlesian microtechnology!" Jaune shouted into Pyrrha's ear.

Pyrrha stiffened with surprise. Jaune, what are you-?

"Just go with it, Pyrrha," Jaune said through the earpiece that Pyrrha was wearing. "You've got Atlesian microtechnology hidden in your glove, and it lets you make very efficient use of dust."

"That...that was only fire dust," Pyrrha said, hoping that she wasn't too terrible a liar for this to seem at least somewhat plausible. "My glove has some, uh, microtechnology sent to me by a friend in Atlas that allows me to use dust very efficiently."

The magistrate stared at her; it took a moment or two before a knowing smile spread across her face. "I see. We owe you our lives, Lady Pyrrha, and as I told you, we are far from ungrateful for the fact. They are very clever folk, those Atlesians, aren't they?"

"They are," Pyrrha agreed, with palpable relief in her voice, "and I am privileged to know one of the cleverest."

The magistrate nodded. "What will you do next?"

"That depends on the state of the fighting elsewhere," Pyrrha said. "If I am required elsewhere, I will reinforce my comrades where they are in need."

"Ours is not the only town under attack?" the magistrate asked.

"I'm afraid not," Pyrrha said. "That is why our numbers are so few here. We are sorely stretched."

The magistrate shook her head in despair. "Every day, the world grows more full of peril," she lamented. "What has brought this on us?"

It was unclear if she meant today specifically or in general; Pyrrha chose to answer the former question. "I'm not sure, but I should like to find out. If you'll excuse me?"

"Of course," the magistrate said, bowing her head a second time. "Good fortune attend you, Pyrrha Nikos."

"Thank you," Pyrrha murmured, before she turned away. A sigh escaped her. "That was quick thinking, Jaune."

"It was the best I could do at short notice. Do you think they bought it?"

"I think they may be willing to accept it as part of their gratitude," Pyrrha replied. "What's the situation with the other forces?"

"When Sun's group arrived at Arpi, they found there weren't that many grimm there," Jaune said. "So once they were done, I sent Team Jasmine to reinforce Violet's forces, and that helped them hold their position; Nadir also encountered less opposition than either you or Violet. Which is interesting, because you and Violet are in the centre, with Sun and Nadir on the wings of the line, as if the grimm spread out from a central location, with fewer of them venturing further out."

"Perhaps they did," Pyrrha replied. "If all the villages are secure, then I'm going to leave Team Jalapeno to defend the town while I take Team Prawn and sweep the woods to the north for any sign of more grimm."

"Good idea," Jaune said. "I'll have Team Volcano do the same."

"You should keep an eye on the town," Pyrrha said. "I don't think you'll be able to see us in the woods."

Jaune was silent for a moment on the other end of the line. "I guess not," he admitted, not sounding particularly pleased about it. "Come back safe."

"To you? Always," Pyrrha replied, a soft smile playing across her lips. She turned back, to see Swift Foot and Jade both watching her.

"I hope you don't expect us to buy an explanation of Atlesian microtechnology," Swift Foot said in a soft, mild tone that belied her words.

Jade shrugged. "I'm willing to believe it," she said.

Swift Foot looked at her, one eyebrow rising sceptically. "Really?"

"We've been talking," Jade declared, before popping another of those revolting sweets into her mouth. She chewed on it for a moment. "The four of us," she added, making plain who were the 'we' who had been talking. "You're a girl with a lot of secrets, Pyrrha Nikos, and that's fine. It doesn't change the work we do by your side. It doesn't change what we did today."

"Thank you," Pyrrha murmured. She had never thought of herself as someone with secrets, but now that Jade had described her as such, she felt - although she was not entirely comfortable about it - that the description was well-merited; she had kept her semblance secret for years, and now, she was keeping so many secrets from all but her most trusted companions...such understanding as Team JHAL had decided to show her was the best she could hope for in the circumstances. "I'm about to head out and scout the woods with my team; will you please remain here and guard the town until we return?"

A smile blossomed upon Jade's red lips. "'Please'? Command me and I am yours, Lady Pyrrha." she said, bowing with mock courtesy.

Pyrrha sighed. This will never stop, will it? She turned her attention to Swift Foot. "Will you come with us?"

"I will, and gladly," Swift Foot said. She hesitated. "I would also gladly know the truth behind this miracle. I am afraid that I am not so willing to simply trust as some."

Pyrrha pursed her lips. "Jade speaks the truth; I am not without secrets," she admitted, "but they remain secret for a good reason."

"Do you take me for a child or a bondsman to be so easily dismissed by such words from the lips of 'Lady Pyrrha'? No; I am a daughter of the House of Thrax," Swift Foot declared. "A house I have turned my back on to tie my sacred honour to you and your cause; does that not entitle me to know the truth of what I have seen with my own eyes?"

"The truth of our cause is what you thought it was," Pyrrha replied. "It has not changed."

"No," Swift Foot agreed. "But it is not the whole of the truth." She paused, and with one hand she fingered the great horn she wore upon her hip. "This horn is an heirloom of my house; it is said that when it is wound in anger upon the field of battle then all the foes of Mistral shall know fear, and if it is blown at need within the realm of Mistral, its voice shall not go unheeded. By rights, it should sit upon the hip of my eldest sister, but I have taken it because I think it better it should sound in the defence of our kingdom than sit idle in the palace of a steward."

"I agree," Pyrrha murmured. "And I understand what you say." She hesitated. "Not here, come with me.”

She led Swift Foot away from the main square, down one of the narrowest alleys that led off from it. It was so narrow that there was barely room for the two of them to face each other, but they were not disturbed, and there was no one who could overhear them.

Pyrrha looked into Swift Foot’s purple eyes. “When you were a child,” she said softly. “Did your parents ever tell you fairy stories?”

Swift Foot’s brow furrowed with a frown. “My mother,” she said, a little gruffly. “When I was very young. My father…had no time for such things.” She blinked, and her voice softened a little. “My favourite was always The Girl in the Tower.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Mine, too. A lonely girl trapped so high above the world, waiting for a handsome prince to sweep her away.”

“Waiting for someone to set her free,” Swift Foot replied. “At least…that was how I always saw it.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said softly. “Do you remember the story of the seasons?”

“Not one of my favourites, but I think I remember,” Swift Foot murmured. “Four maidens granted…” she trailed off, her eyes widening.

Pyrrha nodded, although it was more of a bow of her head. “I…am the Fall Maiden.”

Swift Foot made a sound that was partway between a gasp and a choke. “That…that’s not possible.”

“Was what you saw me do today possible?” Pyrrha asked. “I can command the elements without the use of dust. I have…that magic inside of me.”

Swift Foot blinked rapidly. “How?”

“I…was chosen,” Pyrrha replied.

“How?” Swift Foot repeated. “Chosen by whom?”

“I would rather not say,” Pyrrha said. “I cannot tell you all of the truth…not yet, at least. I mean no slight upon you, Swift Foot, but please try to understand: the Maidens have been kept secret for many years and for good reason. Even what I tell you now…it may not seem like much to you, but it is a great deal to me.”

“'Maidens'?” Swift Foot asked. “There are more of them? Of course there are more; there are four of them? Just like the story?”

“Just like the story,” Pyrrha agreed.

“Who?” Swift Foot demanded. “Arslan? Nora?”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “I don’t know who the other Maidens are or where they are, save that they are a long way away from here. Nor do they know who I am, or where the Fall Maiden might be.”

Swift Foot looked down at the ground. “All the same,” she murmured. “This is…incredible.” She looked back up and into Pyrrha’s eyes. “I don’t understand why you keep this to yourself, why did you lie to those people? You have magic! You are already considered a hero by so many; if you reveal what you truly are, you would be thought a demigod. The throne of your ancestors would be yours for the taking!”

“I do not want it,” Pyrrha declared. “I do not seek the return of the monarchy; I do not do these things to aggrandise myself. I am not what your father fears I am. I seek only to serve this kingdom and protect its people.”

“Then why use your powers at all?”

“Because my secret is not worth a drop of innocent blood,” Pyrrha said, her voice quiet but resolute.

Swift Foot stared at her. “I…I see. Of course. A generous thought, and worthy of your royal lineage.”

“Worthy of any good conscience, I think,” Pyrrha murmured, as she clasped her hands together in front of her. “I’m afraid…that that is all I can tell you.”

“You do me honour to tell me this much,” Swift Foot said. “In time, I hope to earn sufficient of your trust that you will tell me more, but for now? You have already told me quite enough.”

Comments

[blairmen]

So I guess the question is what does the Steward actually want out of this, and what is Swift foot going to do with this information. I mean her answers seem to put definitively to bed most of his worries, so the question is what will she do now... assuming she is there to do what she did in the comics.

[JMP]

For something that Jaune came up with on the spot, "Atleasian microtechnology" isn't a terrible cover story. I mean, Jade has a wand she uses to channel and attack with elemental Dust. This is just....upscaled. Although I don't think Pyrrha's a very good liar.

[Adser]

10281808
Well, its not like Pyrrha has been keeping her intentions a secret. The reason why so many people are against her is because they don't believe her words, selflessness being a foreign concept for them.

With that even if Swift Foot believes her and says so to her father, they will probably not believe the words anyway, especially now that they have confirmation that Pyrrha IS keeping a lot of secrets. And being a Maiden just skyrockets the threat they see in her.

I can perfectly see Swift Foot father telling her "yes, she said that to you because she doesn't believe in you, get closer and you will learn her REAL reason to do this",

10281850
It is a impressively good lie. Things with similar functions already exist, and if they get their tech expert (Uiharu) to make something that works at least a bit like that then their lie would not be that much of a lie.

[Mastermind4892]

That was an absolutely epic battle as Pyrrha finally makes use of the power she was gifted with. I absolutely loved that part with growing a flower! Pyrrha's right, it is indeed so wonderful to see the more beautiful part of her power that can be used for creation and healing rather than the power of destroying our enemies.

I would love to see Sunset tutor Pyrrha in the ways of magic, just as she once trained Sunset in martial prowess.

[Scipio Smith]

10281998
Something that I try very hard to keep in mind with the Maidens is that Ozpin didn't give the original four girls their powers so that they could be OP warriors, he gave them their powers so that they could inspire the world the way that they'd inspired him (and just as Sunset, in turn, gave up her powers to the girl who had inspired her to become better after she, too, had lost her way). It's important to me that the magic doesn't just make Pyrrha a better fighter, it gives her the potential at least to be so much more than that.

[Mastermind4892]

10282005
And I cannot describe how grateful I am for that angle! Thank you!

[Sarikano]

Atleasian microtechnology? You know, it would be funny if they said that as a cover story but Twlight really had been working on that.

[Spellflame]

And I think Swift foot is a Traitor

[RedDog5207]

10281998
10282005

I really enjoyed that call back and reminder you've given us in this reply and this new chapter. It reminds us of the above WoR video and to what Sunset and Ozpin discussed in private in Question My Judgement

It's great to see Sunset practising what she said where just as Ozpin, Blake and the rest of Team SAPR helped her achieve becoming an alicorn, Sunset did something similar by passing the Fall Maiden's powers to Pyrrha.

[MSie95]

Must say, it's very risky for Pyrrha to trust such an important information with a person she's jut met. All she has is Swift's word and not much else. Guess it could be explained that Pyrrha still has own moral codex and someone has abandoned (or says they abandoned) they blood deserves some levity. But still - kind of foolish. Besides Swift came on her own free will to her. If someone deserve a credit of trust, it's Pyrrha.