"It is our job to tell Select Committees the truth and nothing but the truth. But it would be profoundly inappropriate and grossly irresponsible to tell them the whole truth."

- Sir Humphrey Appleby

Percy set down the stack of papers with a heavy thud.

"So what's the problem?"

Shiro sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Ignoring the nobility, senior officials, councilors, celebrities, foreign investors, business leaders, and huntsmen who've written asking me to intervene?"

"Naturally."

"International relations," Shiro deadpanned. "Especially with Vale."

Percy hummed. "I'll speak to Glynda and Oz. If they have a problem, I'll look into it. If not, it's her settlement — she can do as she likes."

"Glynda? On a first name basis now, huh?" Shiro teased.

Percy rolled his eyes. At least the years of back-breaking bureaucracy hadn't completely killed Shiro's sense of humor. "Is that all?"

"No." Shiro sobered, "Not even close. Firstly, Vale has officially formed its own defense force."

Percy exhaled slowly, his amusement dying a quick death. Not unexpected, but sooner than he'd hoped.

It would help them defend against Grimm, even if that wasn't its intended purpose. He was just worried that forming one before he'd had a chance to wrangle Vale back under control would escalate things.

"J&W has a monopoly on military hardware. It would be a bit silly to buy military equipment from their only potential enemy — how are they arming it?" he asked.

"Well, J&W is technically incorporated in Vale. The council is pressing the board for proof of ownership," Shiro said grimly. "They know you own it — or at least some of it — even if there's no proof. The board is doing a pretty good job convincing Vale that they're actually in charge, but the council is demanding they show proof of who owns the company and sell off whatever you own."

Percy gripped the arms of his chair. That… that pissed him off. He'd been more than charitable with Vale, and for this to be how he was repaid was… grating. He could have invaded them months ago. Hades, he could have let them fall to the Grimm. Admittedly there was no chance he would've done that even if they were at war, but after the slights he'd brushed off, after the restraint he'd shown, after all of Ozpin's demands he'd gone along with just to keep the peace…

"Another thing for me to talk about with Ozma, I suppose," he said, his voice clipped. "I won't allow that. If I do reveal my direct ownership, they'll seize the entire thing anyway."

"They might only seize the facilities in Vale," Shiro suggested. "And they'd have to pay for them. The loss of our main research and design facilities would still hurt us a lot, but it's much better than the alternative."

Percy dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand, "That's all they'd be able to do either way. Not like anywhere but Vale would recognize the new ownership. They'd just be able to seize the offices and factories in Vale. And money doesn't matter to me."

"We could transfer ownership to someone else," Shiro suggested. "A Valean who's loyal to you."

Percy unclenched his hand slightly. He tapped at the armrest idly, deep in thought.

"Is Junior a Valean citizen?"

"Technically. But his ties to Mistral are too clear, if anything it'd just put the spotlight on him and his organization."

"Roman?"

"He's a renowned criminal." Shiro deadpanned. "Even if he wasn't, would you really trust him to run the only arms manufacturer in the world for you?"

Percy shrugged. "Who, then?"

"Qrow or Taiyang?" Shiro offered.

Percy dismissed the idea. "Qrow's too loyal to Ozpin, Tai is… not involved, and I want to keep it that way. Not that he's exactly loyal to me either."

"What about one of those kids you were training? Qrow's nieces? They wouldn't have to do anything, just hold ownership."

"No," he shot down, shaking his head. "I don't want the spotlight on them."

"You put a pretty big one on Pyrrha when you gave her Argus," Shiro pointed out.

"That's different," Percy argued. "She was somewhat prominent even before I met her, and she was a household name before I gave her Argus. Ruby and Yang aren't in anything higher profile than a local newspaper."

They sat in silence.

"The Schnee?"

Percy snorted, shooting Shiro a bewildered look. "Isn't the idea to have a Valean own it?"

"Not necessarily," Shiro mused. "Only someone who's not Mistrali. And I suppose at this point Mistral would include Menagerie and Vacuo. Atlas is our ally, but they're still Vale's as well. Vale's council might be skeptical, but I don't think they'd seize it outright — especially from Atlas and a Schnee. Even if the SDC is gone, their family name carries more weight than almost any other."

"Wouldn't that seem a little suspicious? If I was suddenly willing to sell it to the Schnee after seizing all of their dust operations?"

"You wouldn't be selling it to Jacques," Shiro pointed out. "Winter is her own person, and known to be your friend. Atlas is also militaristic and would have an obvious interest in owning the company. Atlas is also an ally of both Mistral and Vale — you could spin it off as you selling it to a neutral party. The only problem is that Winter is Atlas' head of state. It's a little too connected to Atlas' government, Vale might want to nationalize the company anyway. Plus, you know firsthand how hard it is to corral Winter. She's of her own mind, and already has a position of power. You'd hardly keep full control over the company."

Percy frowned. He didn't like that last part. Winter was a friend — a good one — and an ally, but he didn't want to keep so many of his eggs in one basket, especially when the basket was somebody else's. Plus, Shiro was right. She was her own person, and would make Vale nervous. But that gave him another idea…

He pursed his lips. Was he really considering…? But he didn't want to draw attention to her…

Though, it's not like she wasn't in the spotlight already, it wouldn't really be endangering her. She was even competent, from what he had seen, and he worried he was squandering her when she could do so much more — and likely wanted to.

The answer was suddenly obvious.

His mind made up, he smirked. "Who said anything about Winter?"

Shiro blinked. "That's what we're talking about, isn't it? If you have someone else in mind then by all means, but that was my suggestion — transfer it to Winter."

Percy's smile widened. "No, you said transfer it to the Schnee."

Shiro's brow furrowed. "Yes, but I assumed you wouldn't be willing to give it to Jacques. If not Winter, then- oh gods, you can't mean…"

"I do."

"She's barely eighteen!"

"So was I, when I bought the thing."

"It's a little bigger now, in case you haven't noticed!"

"Like you said, she doesn't have to actually do anything — just own it."

"She might give in to pressure from her sister! Or Ozpin — she is a Beacon student."

"I trust her."

Shiro dragged a hand down his face. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Why are you so opposed?" Percy asked, shifting in his seat. "You were fine with Ruby and Yang — who attend Beacon and have no experience. You were fine with Qrow, who's loyal to Ozpin, you were even fine with Winter. Why not Weiss?"

Shiro sighed, lifting his head. "It's the combination, I guess. Youth and inexperience, loyalty to Ozpin, loyalty to Winter — the worst aspects of all the options we've gone over so far. Why are you so willing when you weren't for anyone else?"

"I trust her," he repeated. "She knows everything — she's in on our secrets — and I know she won't go behind my back for Winter or Ozpin. She's competent, and she's already a very public figure, unlike Ruby or Yang. Plus… she's a friend."

Shiro raised a dubious eyebrow. "Since when do you have friends?"

Percy stared at him in mock offense. "How could you say such a thing? Aren't we friends, Shiro?"

Shiro rolled his eyes, leaning back. "My point is that you don't associate with people outside of work. I work for you. We're friends, but it doesn't count."

"What about Winter?"

"An ally in a powerful position."

"Qrow?"

"Your first ally, who helped you get started, and a contact with Ozpin."

Percy cursed. "Tai?"

Shiro shrugged. "You know him through association with Qrow, and to protect Pyrrha."

Percy snapped. "Aha, Pyrrha!"

"She's more family than a friend," Shiro deadpanned. "And besides, you only met her to do a favor for Alexandros in exchange for political support."

Percy scowled playfully. "Whatever. I might've met all of my friends through work, but it's not like they're not my friends too. On a serious note, I'm okay with giving it to Weiss. I trust her, both not to usurp control of the company and to help run it. If you think you have a better idea let me know, but otherwise I'll talk to her about it. What next?"

Shiro glanced at his watch. "A request from Vacuo. It's a bit… peculiar."

"Peculiar how?" Percy raised an eyebrow.

"They want you to flood their kingdom."

"..."

Percy waited for the punchline.

"Not all of it, mind you, but a large part. The idea is apparently to change Vacuo's climate, bring back vegetation near the capital, and give the city access to waterways. I have no idea if it's something you can even do, but they asked me to bring it up…"

Percy would've liked to be able to say that his first thoughts were of the potential effects on the people — of the transformation that would undergo the kingdom, the millions who would be brought from the brink of starvation and poverty.

But that wasn't what came to mind.

His eyes slid shut almost automatically, and he thought of Vacuo, a desert, the very antithesis of his nature. He imagined the tide rising, the oceans surging to pull it under. A massive wave clawing inland. Submerging it. Conquering it. Thousands of miles of the driest place on Remnant sinking beneath the waves, consumed by the abyss.

He turned the thought over in his mind, visualizing it down to the last detail. Imagining it playing out, and then replaying it, drinking it in, savoring the thought like a delicious cut of meat.

He had curbed his urges with the knowledge that he would be seen as an irredeemable monster — a pariah — by every mortal alive, if he were to pull any significant portion of land beneath the waves without very good reason. But now he was not only being given a free pass, he was being asked to do so. It was being requested of him*.*

Lust burned through his core, lust he had been suppressing more and more over the years. The idea that he would be able to give in to his urges sent goosebumps rolling across his skin.

He opened his eyes.

"I can do that," he said, voice low. "I'll stop by Vacuo on my way to the Vytal festival next week."

Shiro raised an eyebrow, but nodded, jotting something down. "If you think it's a good idea, who am I to say otherwise. I'll let them know to expect you. Just… be careful, I guess."

"Is that all?"

Shiro shook his head. "One last thing. Menagerie."

Percy perked up slightly. "Oh, how's that going?"

"Well. General Gray reports they've trained two cohorts and made some base fortifications around the city. He suggests most of our garrison can return to Mistral without risking the island or slowing the progress of training."

Percy shook his head. "No. You know why we can't allow that, even if he doesn't. Menagerie is the least prepared of anywhere for what we have planned. Keep them there, double the training rate if he needs to. We need them to be ready."

Shiro nodded. "I figured, but thought I'd ask. Should I give him the same reason we gave the others we have shoring up defenses?"

Percy waved off the suggestion. "Let him come to his own conclusions. At worst he'll decide I've become a militarist, which is hardly the worst opinion for a general to have of me."

"But Kali might not appreciate it," Shiro pointed out.

"Ah." Percy paused. "Good point. Has the garrison had any other issues with her?"

Shiro shook his head, shuffling through the papers in his lap. "Nothing major. I think the White Fang uprising and subsequent invasion shocked her into action. She objected to the soldiers carrying weapons inside the city boundaries, however. General Gray isn't happy, but he's complying."

Percy shrugged. He could see a few problems coming from the men being defenseless, but if there had been any, he was sure the general would have told Shiro.

"That's good, she won't immediately veto the extended presence then. But still, how do I keep her on board in the long run? I hate that my first thought is a false flag, I'd really prefer not to do that this time."

Shiro shrugged. "You could just tell her the truth."

Percy blinked. Could he just… do that?

Nobody was stopping him, he supposed, and the Belladonnas were the rulers of a kingdom. Ozpin had his own circle of influential people that he'd let in on the supernatural side of things, why couldn't Percy? If anyone should know, surely it would be the leaders of an entire people.

"Are they coming to the Vytal Festival?" he asked.

Shiro shuffled through the papers in his lap for a moment.

"Don't think so."

"Ask Kali — and Ghira — to come."

Shiro raised an eyebrow. "And if she says no? It was pulling teeth to get them to travel to Atlas for the peace treaty, I can't imagine it'll be any easier for the festival without a good reason."

Percy smirked. "If she doesn't want to come, remind her Blake will be there."

Shiro snorted, jotting a note in the margin. "Got it. Have you told Winter yet? About the plan."

Percy nodded. "I have. She's preparing. It'll be some time, apparently, but I think Atlas will be in good shape."

Shiro nodded. "And the kids? Have you told them?"

Percy scowled and looked away. "Not yet."

"Are you keeping it from them?"

"No!" Percy snapped, eyes flicking back to Shiro. "I'm not. I just… want them to enjoy some time without worrying about it."

"You're getting soft," Shiro quipped.

Percy didn't deny it.

"I've always been soft when it comes to my friends," he said eventually, resting his chin on his palm. "But like you said, I haven't had many of those in a while."

Shiro raised an eyebrow, opened his mouth, and then paused, hesitating. After several seconds he sighed. "I keep forgetting how young you are. The kids you're training are closer to you in age than… anyone else you know, just about."

"Except Winter," Percy added softly, gaze directed out the window.

Shiro smiled ever so slightly. "Well, fair enough then. You can tell them when they're ready."

"They're ready now," Percy murmured. "I just want to give them a break."

Shiro stood, smiling softly. "Take a break with them. Sounds like you need it."

"You're one to talk," he snarked. "I'll take a vacation when you do."

"I already take them."

That got Percy to look away from the window, eyebrows raised.

"I spent last weekend in the vineyards in the south," Shiro explained. "Last month I spent a few days at a tourist settlement in the west. I won't pretend I'm swimming in freetime, but the government runs itself for the most part. Don't feel bad for taking a bit of downtime."

For the first time in a while, Percy studied his friend. He was looking better than Percy could remember. More relaxed. The rings under his eyes were less pronounced.

He still looked stressed — more than expected for someone in his position — but not like he was about to drop dead of it.

Locking eyes, Percy nodded. "I'll think about it. Thanks, Shiro."

Still smiling, Shiro returned the nod and made his exit.

Maybe he should take some time off. Not to train or meditate, but just to have fun.

Maybe he could soon, but not now. While he was still in Mistral, he had a job to do.

He needed to find Raven.

The lamp buzzed quietly in the corner, casting long shadows over the study. Pyrrha scratched another note into the report on her desk. Across from her, Weiss hunched over a pile of ledgers, her brow furrowed in concentration. The room smelled faintly of ink, leather, and paper.

"Another inflated lease," Weiss muttered, flipping through the latest folder. "They rented an office at three times the going rate."

"At least the roof didn't collapse," Pyrrha murmured, rubbing at her tired eyes. She was too afraid to check the time. "Half the contractors we paid never even finished their projects."

Pyrrha hadn't suddenly gained a penchant for poring over ledgers and balance sheets, but Weiss had insisted on looking through some and it's not like Pyrrha could let Weiss work while she played video games with the others.

The comfortable silence was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door before it smoothly opened.

Sir Nigel stepped inside, immaculate as ever despite the late hour, hands folded neatly behind his back. His face was composed, but the tension in his jaw was impossible to miss. He strode exactly two steps into the room before speaking.

"Pardon the interruption, my lady, madam," he said smoothly, nodding briefly to Weiss before bowing shallowly to Pyrrha, "but I must urgently address the... recent developments concerning the escalation of the conflict with Sanctum."

Pyrrha set her pen down. "You're referring to the Principal's arrest."

"Indeed," he said, offering a tight smile that never reached his eyes. "While none would dare question the paramount importance of judicial enforcement, the methods employed have, shall we say, elicited considerable concern among certain quarters as to the soundness of our institutional sanctity."

Pyrrha leaned forward slightly, voice calm. "He refused to transfer criminal students to settlement jurisdiction. Students we know committed violent crimes. He defied my orders."

"Of course," Nigel said quickly. "Yet had we pursued all alternatives, perhaps the necessity for so... drastic an outcome might have been avoided."

Pyrrha's eyes narrowed. "Alternatives?"

"Sanctions against the school," Nigel said tightly. "Defunding. A public relations campaign to pressure compliance. Revocation of privileges. A withdrawal of recognition — pressure, my lady. Gradual, but firm."

"Why didn't you bring these up when I asked?" Pyrrha demanded. "I asked for alternatives for weeks - you said none would work."

"There were solutions which were not considered precisely because they would be intolerable escalations. Had I known you intended to go so far as to arrest him," Nigel snapped, "we would have considered them!"

Pyrrha's eyes widened ever slightly. In all her time working with him she had never heard Sir Nigel raise his voice or become flustered by anything. He hadn't seemed the type.

He took a deep breath. "And now," he said curtly, "we must manage the aftermath of what will be seen — rightly or wrongly — as a political power grab. Questions will be raised about the independence of the school. Accusations of overreach will follow. Before today most people agreed with your stance on the prosecution of the students. Now Sanctum's administration will rally sympathizers, casting themselves as victims."

He took a step closer, hands folded behind his back, voice tightening.

"The fallout won't stop there. Enrollment could plummet. Families may look to Vale or Atlas to educate their children, preferring institutions untouched by scandal. Sanctum could sever formal ties altogether. Worse, the wider academic and political community might respond — boycotts of our companies, blacklists of our students, pressure campaigns against Argus. Other institutions in the settlement will be watching, and they will see that noncompliance is met not with persuasion, but with force."

Pyrrha hesitated. She didn't have an answer to any of that, but…

"I acted because I had to," she retorted, crossing her arms. "I can't allow them to openly flaunt the law."

"Of course you can't, my lady," Nigel said smoothly, his tone almost condescending. "But we do not govern by strength alone. We govern by consent. By appearance as much as by action. In one stroke, we have endangered both."

He went on, his voice sharpening.

"Had we set out to do things in a measured manner, following the processes of the law, we would have achieved our desired result in due course without starting anything we couldn't finish. Instead you've galvanized the principal's allies — his donors, backers, and international supporters — who will not forgive this. The settlement may find itself isolated, its legitimacy questioned. We risk losing our prosperity not through confrontation, but through quiet erosion of confidence. Through whispered doubts. Through cold shoulders."

Pyrrha opened her mouth, but no words came. She knew he wasn't entirely wrong. The longer he spoke, the heavier the air seemed to become.

"Sir Nigel," Weiss said when it was clear Pyrrha had no response, her tone light but cold. She didn't look up from the ledger in her lap, but her hands stilled on the pages. "If the families of prospective huntsmen are so concerned about government interference, I may remind you that they won't find much comfort in Atlas, where combat schools are run by the military directly. And as for sanctions from kingdoms or academies — they won't happen."

"With respect, Miss Schnee," he said sharply, "you speak with undue certainty on matters of state. It is not within your ability to make assurances on behalf of kingdoms."

Weiss finally looked up to meet Nigel's eyes, her gaze steely. "Vale already tolerates government intervention by Atlas without complaint. It would not be tolerated for firms or academies in Mistral to act against a settlement within their own empire, and no-one in Atlas will try anything either — you can take my word for that."

There was a confidence in the way she spoke that caused Nigel to stiffen, a flash of irritation and uncertainty breaking through his polished exterior.

"If I may," he glared, "this is a settlement matter. Perhaps it would be best if this conversation remained between the baroness and myself."

"As for disobedience being met with force," Weiss continued, ignoring his request entirely, "it's better that institutions are reminded that noncompliance will not be tolerated. Individuals have rights, but settlement institutions exist to serve the baroness — not dictate terms to her."

She placed her pen down with a soft click.

"And let's be clear," she said, her voice firm. "The baroness does not govern by consent. That is a role filled by the mayor and the council. The baroness is accountable to Perseus — no one else."

The weight of the name seemed to still the room.

"Unless, of course," Weiss added, turning back to her ledger, "you'd like to challenge that Perseus' right to rule supersedes the consent of the governed."

"Of course not," he said quickly. "I never suggested such a thing!"

"Then you see why your concerns are moot," Weiss finished calmly.

Impressed by her friend, Pyrrha turned to Nigel. She raised an eyebrow as the seconds ticked on, waiting for the civil servant to make a retort.

Nigel turned to her and adjusted his tie, pale and tense. "My lady, the welfare of the city may be put at risk-"

"Then it will be addressed when damages materialize," Pyrrha cut him off, "I'll personally guarantee it."

Swallowing uncomfortably, he bowed shortly. "As you say, my lady. I will… appraise you of future developments as they arise."

"Thank you, Sir Nigel," Pyrrha smiled kindly. "Please have a good night."

Sir Nigel gave the papers in Weiss' lap a long look, but apparently decided to hold his tongue. "You as well, my lady. Madame." he nodded to Weiss, his eye twitching faintly. He turned sharply and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

"He seemed to know when to cut his losses," Weiss mused.

Smiling faintly, Pyrrha sent Weiss a grateful look. "Thank you," she said, "In hindsight, I'd completely lost control of the situation. You pulled me out of it."

"Think nothing of it," Weiss waved it off. "He's made a career of arguing naive politicians into corners. You'll learn how to deal with his type soon enough."

She paused, glancing up and smiling apologetically. "No offense."

Pyrrha shook her head in amused exasperation. "None taken. You seem to speak from experience."

"Mostly bureaucratic types," she murmured, jotting something in the margins. "Doing jobs here and there for my father, I've dealt with them plenty. There have been a few around Winter as well, though she tends to tolerate them less than my father did."

Pyrrha hummed, and the room fell back into silence.

"Argus really should count 'deferred disasters' under expenses," Weiss muttered.

Pyrrha gave a tired smile. "Right between 'unexpected weather' and 'bad luck'?"

They got back to work.

It wasn't too long before they were interrupted again, the door flying open with a bang, fluttering papers across the desk. Pyrrha reached for Milo for the split second it took a head of bright blonde hair to become visible. Nora practically bounced in behind Yang, barely avoiding colliding with the doorframe, while Ruby slipped in after them with a sheepish smile.

Yang strode into the private office like she owned it, a wild grin plastered on her face.

"Alright, that's enough paperwork!" She announced, leaning over Weiss and planting her hands on the pages. "You two are coming with us."

Pyrrha blinked, caught between amusement and horror, carefully studying Weiss' reaction. "Yang, we're working—"

"Nope," Yang said firmly, staring Pyrrha down over Weiss' head. "You're getting kidnapped. No more being boring, it's time to have fun!"

"Yang." Weiss moved the blonde's hair out of her face. "Get off me."

Yang looked down, a curtain of blonde falling over both of their faces. "Only if you agree to stop working."

Pyrrha pursed her lips. She didn't want to admit it while Weiss was going out of her way to help, but she was tired. She… could use some time to relax.

Weiss slid her chair back, Yang backpedaling with a small yelp.

Weiss shot Pyrrha a meaningful look as she stood. "It's fine. We can pick this up tomorrow. Rest your mind a little — it'll do more good than staring at these numbers all night."

Pyrrha hesitated, glancing at the many neat piles of papers still on her desk, but Weiss gave her a small, reassuring nod. Pyrrha relented with a sigh, letting her hands fall to her lap.

"Awesome!" Nora beamed. "You can do it on the flight!"

Pyrrha and Weiss shared another glance.

"What flight?" Pyrrha asked.

"Percy is leaving early for the Vytal Festival," Ruby explained. "He said he's stopping in Vacuo on the way and offered us a ride."

"Beach time!" Nora yelled, pumping a fist into the air.

"You're serious?" Weiss asked, somewhere between disbelief and exasperation. "We're going to Vacuo? With none of our stuff and less than a day of notice?"

"We can have someone get our stuff," Yang dismissed with a wave of her hand. "You both have loads of money, right?"

Pyrrha exchanged yet another glance with Weiss, who was looking at the three of them as though they had grown second heads.

"Won't you come to the beach with us?" Ruby pleaded, teleporting to Weiss' side, her wide, watery eyes pouting.

"I suppose," Weiss said grudgingly, forcing herself to look away, "if I must endure it for the sake of morale..."

Yang laughed. "C'mon, Snow Princess. It won't kill you to have a little fun."

Pyrrha smiled tiredly and let Nora pull her to her feet.

Maybe they had the right idea.

The rhythmic thrum of an approaching Bullhead cut through the smoky air hanging over the ruined camp. Colonel Speirs stood ramrod straight, his posture unyielding as the aircraft touched down, kicking up dust and ash. Around the smoldering remnants of the camp, other Bullheads sat idle, their engines whirring softly. Before Speirs, dozens of captured bandits knelt in a neat row, hands laced behind their heads, fatigues torn and stained. His men stood guard behind them, weapons held loosely but ready, their faces grim.

The Bullhead's side door swung open with a pneumatic hiss, and a figure emerged.

Perseus.

Though they knew to expect him, a ripple of tension went through the assembled soldiers, even Speirs felt a tightening in his gut. His presence commanded attention, an unnerving blend of authority and barely contained power.

This was Perseus, stepping onto a dirty battlefield like any other officer.

The spider standing next to Speirs — a wiry man who had given him no name — hurried forward. His chest puffed out, though there was a nervous energy to him as he bowed low and clasped his hand to his chest. "Ave!"

Perseus, clearly unimpressed by the display, barely acknowledged him. His sea green eyes swept over the scene, and Speirs was struck by just how young he was. He had known Perseus was young on an intellectual level, but seeing it in person was something else. He radiated impatience, dismissing the kowtowing spider with a wave of his hand.

When Speirs' battalion had been requisitioned by the spider, he had to admit he'd been annoyed. They'd been pulled from the city for a 'special operation' and he'd been commanded to follow the orders of a spider, outside their chain of command. They'd been kept in the dark on everything — including why they were conducting this mission in the first place. The only thing they'd been told is that there would be no written record of the mission — they had never been here.

Speirs was a good soldier, so he followed his orders, but he had to admit he'd been less than thrilled with the arrangement. Standing here now, with Perseus himself standing in front of him, all of his complaints vanished.

Perseus's gaze landed on the row of prisoners. "Is this all of them?"

"Yes," the spider confirmed quickly. "Every bandit we captured."

"Have they talked?" Perseus asked, his focus still on the captives.

"Same story as the others we've rounded up," the spider told him. "It seems unlikely they know anything else."

"Someone does," Perseus snapped.

Without another word he strode forward, his boots crunching on the debris-strewn ground. He walked past Speirs without a glance, stopping before the nearest kneeling bandit. He reached down, grabbing the man's jaw with bruising force and yanking his head up. The bandit flinched, eyes wide with terror.

"Where is Raven?" Perseus demanded, his voice dangerously low.

The man stammered, words tumbling out in a rush. "Gone! Disappeared! Middle of the night, just… vanished. Weeks ago. Some of the others say she used her semblance and never came back — they say she must be dead, but I've only heard rumors, I swear!"

"How do you know she didn't just abandon the tribe?" he pressed, his eyes staring into the bandit's own with unsettling intensity.

"Her… her belongings," the man gasped desperately for air. "They were still there."

"Belongings like what?" he pushed. "All of them?"

"Clothes, valuables," he hacked. "Only… her equipment was missing."

"Who knows more?" Perseus demanded, loosening his grip slightly.

"Our- our leader," he panted "But he died when you attacked."

Speirs recalled the fight — the bandit leader had had Aura, so they'd been forced to put him down with concentrated bullhead fire. He'd died hard.

Perseus released the man's neck, and he fell to the floor, gasping for air. Perseus rose, his glare flickering towards the intelligence officer, cold and sharp, but he didn't bother with words.

He seemed to dismiss the spider entirely, his gaze scanning the area until it landed on Speirs. The direct eye contact from the man who was worshipped by so many sent an involuntary shiver down Speirs' spine. He held himself rigid.

"Colonel. Have these groups attacked local settlements?"

"Yes, sir," Speirs confirmed, meeting the intense stare directly. His voice was steady — he was a tool, a weapon. He had nothing to be nervous about. "We found a number of civilian hostages in their camp. Our medical personnel are currently addressing them."

Perseus nodded slowly, his eyes sweeping back over the line of kneeling figures. "Ask the hostages which bandits committed murder and hang them." His voice regained its sharp edge of command. "Throw the rest in jail." He pointed a finger at the bandit he'd interrogated. "Whatever sentence the others get, this one gets less."

Speirs snapped his fist to his chest. "Ave."

His men, positioned behind the prisoners, echoed the salute as one.

Perseus gave a curt nod and turned back to the intelligence officer. "Cease all operations targeting Branwen tribe splinter cells. Hold off on the rest until I say otherwise. I'll get what I need in Vacuo."

Perseus turned and strode back towards the waiting Bullhead without waiting for a response. The doors closed behind him, and moments later, the engines roared louder as it lifted off, leaving the spider, Speirs, and his men alone with the prisoners and the smoldering ruin of the camp.

I hope you enjoyed! Layoffs made work hectic this week so no catch-up. Hopefully next week. Fingers crossed.

Going off of last chapter, I'm curious to see what you guys think. How is the pacing over the last several chapters? Even if you think it's just a little too slow or fast, I'm interested in hearing your opinion.

If you're interested in reading one chapter ahead of time or supporting my work, you can find links on my profile.

Next Chapter May 30 (see you all when I'm another year older!)