A/N: I cut this one pretty much in half, just to get it out the damn door already. Good times, for all and sundry.

[/]

On a grassy hill overlooking the road, Sir Jaune d'Arc squatted next to Oscar Pine, who was laying prone and somewhat awkwardly hefting Jaune's rifle, Vera. The boy peered down the sights at a small pack of Beowulves on the road. On Jaune's other side, Ren also lay prone, his Accolade in its rifle form, the experienced Huntsman having given a proper example for Oscar to emulate. They'd tried using Pyrrha first, but asking a thirteen-year old boy to pay close attention to Pyrrha Nikos, in her tight miniskirt, laying prone with a leg pulled up, was escalating the kid's heart rate far too much for effective shooting lessons. At the base of the hill, a few meters from the side of the road, Nora and Pyrrha hid in the foliage, waiting for the shots that would signal the beginning of their ambush.

"That's it," Jaune said quietly, looking over the younger boy to make sure that the rifle was properly braced. "You have the head lined up with the front sight?"

"Yes," answered the boy.

"Good. When I say fire, you're going to move your finger onto the trigger. Take a breath, and in the pause just after you exhale, smoothly pull the trigger back. Don't squeeze it - pull it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Jaune paused for a moment. "And don't worry if you miss your first shot. Between Ren, Nora, and Pyrrha, those wolves aren't going to get away, okay?"

"Right." Oscar visibly relaxed, less tense after hearing Jaune's reassurance. "Right."

With a nod to Ren, Jaune gave the order. "Fire."

Vera made a resounding crack, its Hard Light jacketed round streaking like a blue tracer before slamming into the head of one of the Beowulves. The Grimm's head burst apart in a gout of oily black smoke, the rest of its body soon following suit. An instant later, a second Grimm fell to Ren's follow-up shot. As previously planned, Pyrrha and Nora emerged from their hiding places, Nora breaking left and Pyrrha right, the two Huntresses catching the Grimm in a pincer.

Back on the hill, Oscar beamed. "I did it!"

"I saw." Jaune nodded. "Put the safety back on."

"Oh, right." The boy hastened to obey, engaging the rifle's safety before handing it over to Jaune, being careful to keep the barrel pointed away from either Jaune, Ren, or himself. Jaune made sure the chamber was clear and the safety was engaged before mechashifting his rifle back into its carry state. Hesitating for a moment, he reached out and tousled the shorter boy's hair. "Good shooting."

With Ren taking careful shots from his vantage point on the hill, it didn't take long for the two Huntresses to obliterate the rest of the Beowulves, and soon, they rejoined the boys on the way back to where Weiss waited with the cart and horses. "So, who made that first shot?" asked Nora.

"That was Oscar," Jaune answered.

"Way to go!" Pyrrha favored the boy with a smile as she passed, which left the boy with a dazed, dreamy expression on his face. Jaune shared a look with Ren, shaking his head.

"Would you two mind going ahead?" he asked. "Ren and I need to talk with Oscar here for a minute. After action and all that."

When the girls had moved ahead a bit, Jaune sighed. "Okay, Oscar, we need to have a talk. One of those horribly awkward talks that you somehow always find a way to make me have to have with you."

"What?" the boy asked. "I didn't do anything wrong, did I?"

"Look…" Jaune fought the urge to run his hand over his face. "Neither Ren nor I had what you might call a normal upbringing, so we might not be the best to have this discussion with you, but…we need to talk about you maintaining focus. With Pyrrha."

"Oh." Oscar flushed. "I, uh…"

"It's a matter of mental discipline." Jaune continued, decidedly avoiding eye contact. "Pyrrha is an extremely talented warrior, and you'd do well to learn from her, but that isn't going to happen if your head is in the clouds every time you look at her when she tries to teach you something."

"Well, how do you two deal with it?"

"By remembering how badly she snores," quipped Ren.

Jaune rolled his eyes. "As for me, well, I have a truly shocking amount of childhood trauma and deep-seated psychological issues. Like I said, maybe Ren and I aren't the best equipped to tell you how, but…it's not like we aren't aware that we're working with gorgeous women, but we're able to compartmentalize that, get past it to focus on doing what needs to be done."

"Also, she'd destroy you, kid," Ren helpfully added. "Like a lioness ripping apart a rabbit."

"That too," agreed Jaune.

Oscar grinned at Ren. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Jaune playfully swatted Oscar upside the head, sharing an amused look at Ren, who was openly chuckling. "What did I tell you about self-preservation?"

"That I shouldn't get myself killed unless there is literally no other option."

"Yeah, and messing with Pyrrha Nikos is a one-way track to the afterlife," said Jaune. He shook his head, his smile fading away. "If you stick with us, you're going to find yourself working with Huntresses, and I know Sir Roland is hoping to recruit women into the Knights of Vale in the near future. I get that boys your age tend to be…fascinated by girls, but you're just going to have to keep that in check around girls and women, especially when working with them. I won't stand for a squire of mine behaving with anything short of consummate professionalism and courtesy. Are we clear?"

Oscar gulped. "Crystal."

"Good. The next time I get Pyrrha to teach you something, I expect you to be an attentive and respectful student."

"Also, you've got no chance, kid." Ren chimed in.

"Why are you even here?" Oscar asked.

Ren smirked. "The free show, mostly."

"Always the consummate gentleman, Ren," Jaune deadpanned.

"I try."

Jaune shook his head ruefully as he approached his Destrier. Talos fixed him with a singularly unimpressed look, displeased at having been left behind when there were Grimm what needed a good killing.

"Oh, don't give me that," said Jaune, as he swung easily into the saddle. "You can't come along for every fight, you know."

The young knight didn't need his Aura connection with his horse to recognize the clear skepticism in the huff that answered him.

"It went well, I trust?"

Jaune looked over to see Weiss approaching, mounted on her own horse, Gossamer.

"Minor issue with getting the boy to pay attention to Pyrrha's form, and not her…form," said Jaune, with a shrug. He held up his hand to signal the group to get underway, and he and Weiss led the caravan at a comfortable trot. "Someday, I'm going to find out why I have to be the one to have these sort of discussions with him, and when that day comes, there had better be a very convincing answer."

Weiss rolled her eyes at his grumbling. "You know, for all your griping, being out here, with us…it really has been good for you."

"Oh?" he arched an eyebrow as he looked at his smug fiancee, wondering what game she was playing. "Why do you say that?"

She didn't answer him, not with words, at any rate. Instead, she took out her Scroll, and with a quick gesture, sent a message to his own device. Curious, Jaune activated his Scroll, seeing a photo that she must have taken mere moments before.

It was taken just after Jaune had swatted Oscar upside the head. Oscar was grinning with youthful mischief, while Ren's mirth had broken through his typical stoic mask. And Jaune?

Jaune was grinning broadly, for once looking as young as he really was. It was actually a bit startling to realize - he hadn't thought he'd been smiling as much as he really had been. It wasn't that Jaune had never had moments of happiness, even joy before, but those had been just that - moments, each one carefully recognized and savored, interruptions in the usual default of either blank apathy or guilt or…

He looked over at Weiss, who was practically glowing as she gazed at him. "You're coming alive out here, Sir Jaune," she told him. "Learning how to be happy without effort. I love seeing you like this, you know. It's like every dream I ever had for you, for us, is coming true."

Jaune didn't know what to say to that, as he took in the bright sun of southern Vale. There wasn't much that he could add to that, so instead, he let out a bit of that youthful mischievousness as he smirked to her. "You know, it's another hour to Whitecliffe…if we keep this pace. Race you there?"

Her ice blue eyes widened before her expression shifted into a playful competitiveness. "You're on!"

Their laughter lingered in the air as they left their puzzled friends in the dust.

[/]

With her cabin aboard the Apollyon complete, Winter made sure to utilize it for "morale, welfare, and recreational purposes vital to the mental health of critical command staff." Which was officer-talk for "Captain Winter needs to get laid, and she's got just the place to do it."

Afterwards, she snuggled against Qrow's bare chest, luxuriating in the contrast between his rough, hairy chest and the decadent softness of the genuine, thousand-thread count Vacuoan cotton sheets that her little sister had commissioned for her bed. She could definitely grow accustomed to this arrangement.

She was drifting towards dreamland when her calm was interrupted by the sound of both her and Qrow's Scrolls going off at the same time. They both grumbled as they rolled to opposite sides of the bed to retrieve their respective devices.

"It's from Oz," Winter announced. "Something's going on, and he needs us in his office." She tried not to let her crankiness show through as she went around collecting the various bits of her underwear and civilian clothes that had been strewn about the cabin during the earlier course of the evening.

"Couldda been worse," mused Qrow, as he pulled on his trousers. At her questioning look, he continued. "He couldda called earlier, when we were…you know," he winked salaciously.

Winter rolled her eyes and threw his shirt at him, before pulling a sports bra over her head. "Hurry up, bird brain."

A few moments later, the slightly-disheveled pair were trying to smooth wrinkled clothes and ruffled hair in the elevator to Ozpin's office. The Headmaster of Beacon Academy took no note of the state of his lieutenants, however, his focus seemingly locked onto the news report playing on the holo-screen behind his desk.

"...cascade effect on industries across the spectrum, and in both public and private sectors," a reporter was speaking into the camera. "Here to speak with Atlas News Network is cyberwarfare expert, Arthur Watts. Doctor Watts?"

"Ah, yes. This was obviously a surgical assault on the global economy, targeting the SDC as the linchpin holding the entire system together…"

"What's this?" asked Winter. "A cyberattack on the SDC?"

Ozpin took a sip from his mug. "Indeed, one that appears to have sent the markets reeling." He sighed. "Ordinarily, I would suspect our true enemy of having enacted a novel idea to check Atlas's military-industrial complex, but she has never shown any interest or inclination towards this avenue of attack before."

"Doesn't rule out her hiring outside help. The witch's little helpers were all pretty young," said Qrow.

Oz accepted the point with a nod. "It could also legitimately be remnants of the White Fang, as the Atlesian news appears to believe. We also can't rule out the possibility of an unknown third party with a grudge against the SDC, or an anarchist syndicate." He sighed. "Qrow, I want you to speak with Blake Belladonna. With your expertise and her knowledge of White Fang cyberwarfare methodology, you should be able to either confirm or rule out their culpability in this matter. Winter, I want you to call your sister. While it doesn't appear as though our supply lines are compromised yet, she should be aware of these events."

Winter nodded. "Where is her group now?"

"She and her companions put in at the town of Whitecliffe this afternoon. There is a CCNet relay tower in the town, so Sir Jaune was able to put in a report." At the obvious, if unasked question from Winter, Ozpin continued. "They are all unharmed. Apparently, there was a Grimm attack at the village of Redstone, an apparent repercussion of a group of bandits. After the team repelled the Grimm, Sir Jaune hunted down the leader of this bandit crew and executed him in the village square. Since then, they've reported minor Grimm activity, and expect to reach the ruins of the Arc ancestral holdings in the morning."

"All right. I shall notify Weiss as soon as we have finished here."

"Good. The two of you are dismissed."

As the elevator doors opened once more, Winter sighed. "So much for our quiet night."

Qrow just shrugged. "Nature of the business. You know that."

"I know. I just wish…" she shook her head. "Never mind."

Before parting, Winter popped onto her tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on the rough skin of Qrow's cheek. "Call me later."

"You got it, Ice Queen."

With that, Winter turned and strode down the hallway towards her actual office. She had business to attend to, and later, when she found out which malcontent was responsible for dragging her away from her soft bed and warm partner, she would find some way to make their life hell.

[/]

A hooded figure gazed up at the fortified Huntsman Academy built on a hill. They were definitely up to something. There had been all sorts of weird changes going on in Vale, new factories and businesses springing up practically overnight.

Carefully anonymous in his nondescript clothing and baggy hooded sweatshirt, Mercury Black appeared like just one out of any number of the teeming masses that made their home in the city. A few discreet crimes had got him situated in a seedy hotel, the sort that was used to shady characters whose business was best left unasked, and with decent supplies of ammunition and Dust.

There had been no sign of Emerald since that wild night at Beacon, when their cover had been blown wide-open. There hadn't been any sort of public arrest and trial for her, which suggested one of three possibilities. The first was that the green-haired thief had ditched him entirely and managed to successfully klep an airship and make a run for it. The second was that she had been caught and killed outright. It was the third possibility that worried him; that Emmy might have been captured and held in secret somewhere.

There was no telling what, if anything, Emerald had told them. Still, she didn't know that much about his hunting methods. He was more annoyed that, one way or another, it didn't look like he'd have much luck in taking her Semblance for his own. It was a real shame, too. Aside from its incredible utility for an assassin, Mercury had been looking forward to seeing the beautiful thief wither and die to make him stronger. Spank material for the ages, that.

Ah well. No use in lamenting what-could-have-beens. Beacon was up to something, and when they made their move, he'd swoop in, grab the silver-eyed little chit, and it'd be off to Atlas for his reward. No way would a wannabe Huntress stay holed up for very long. She'd go for the action, and leave herself vulnerable, guaranteed. It's not like any of her little team could stop him.

Mercury Black always got what he wanted, and it was high time Beacon learned that.

[/]

It was a quiet evening in the Team RWBY dorm room. Of course, that was largely due to the fact that half their number were absent, with Weiss accompanying JNPR on their trip and Blake having absconded with Sun once more.

The sisters were both studying quietly in the soft light of their lamps. Since recovering from Mountain Glenn, a real fire had been lit under Ruby's tushy, and she was now pushing her teammates a lot harder than she ever had before.

Yang was finally getting around to her long-belated homework. Okay, so hitting the books was never really her thing, but for once, she didn't mind. Part of that was due to her little sister cornering her and pleading, with tears in her eyes, to not make her position more difficult than it had to be.

…Okay, Yang had to admit that she had been slacking. She'd have blamed it on Mountain Glenn, but she'd been shamming on her academics long before that clusterfuck.

The other reason she was playing Little Miss Perfect Student?

Well earlier, she and Blake had played the mother of all pranks on Weiss's asshole dad.

There had been porn. No, that wasn't enough to describe the sheer and sundry cavalcade of hot, hardcore, high-octane smut that they'd jammed into every conceivable system at the Schnee Dust Company. She'd certainly learned some new and exciting things about her partner, that was for sure.

So, they'd wreaked havoc on the SDC's systems. Blake had assured her that it would just gum them up for a few hours, tops, being more a crude nuisance than anything else. Still, while the mechanics of the prank were simple, that sheer scale of it was what made it epic.

Not bad for a day's work.

It was with a smug little grin that she'd finally assented to her little sister's wishes and settled in for an epic cram sesh. The room was nice and quiet, save for the occasional scribbling of pen on paper as the girls worked on their school assignments. Their dad was probably watching, from somewhere, and Yang was sure he'd be thrilled to see his little girls being all responsible and stuff.

Unfortunately, the evening quiet was broken when they heard a knocking at the door. Ruby had been so engrossed in her work that she jumped nearly a foot in the air, and from a sitting position too.

"Sheesh, Rubes, jumpy much?" Yang teased, even as she went to the door. She put her hand on the knob, but before turning it, she called out her half of the evening's code-phrase. "Bacon."

"Potpurri," she heard her father answer from the other side. Now convinced that it was safe, she opened the door. Standing in the hallway was her father, his arms crossed over his chest, and joining him was none other than her very own Druncle Qrow.

"Hey!" she chirped in greeting. "What's up?"

"Hey girls," Qrow waved absently. "Mittens around? Oz needs her for some spooky spy shit."

"Mittens, huh?" Yang smirked. "Sure got a lot braver once Blake's mom left, didn't you?"

"Not the time, Yang," said Qrow, for once completely serious.

Ruby nudged her sister out of the way. "Blake's not here tonight," she said. "She kinda has this thing where she messes with the empty dorm rooms, and uses them for, uh…"

"She's bangin' her boyfriend," Yang helpfully finished. She took out her Scroll and tuned into the team proximity locator. "Her Scroll's pinging from dorm four twenty-five," she said.

Qrow sighed. "Kids these days…" He just sighed wearily. "All right, thanks. See you girls later. Tai," he added, as he turned and stalked down the hallway.

As Yang bid her father good night, she couldn't help but feel a little bad for Blake. She just hoped her uncle didn't catch her in too compromising a position.

[/]

Qrow was not in a good mood as he walked down the halls of Beacon. He'd been pulled from his nice warm bed and his nice warm woman to deal with some bullshit, and now that bullshit had been compounded by some teenager bullshit on top. A shit sundae. It really didn't help that the little bugger had re-routed the program that enabled his administrative override code to force the e-lock on the dorm room door to open.

Yeah, no.

He enacted his Qrow Override Code, which consisted of kicking the fuckin' door off the hinges, pulling his sword out as he strode into the room. It didn't take long to find the miscreant he was lookin' for, as she was on one of the beds, stark naked on all fours, while some blonde kid with a tail slotted her from behind. She was all big gold eyes as he leveled his shotgun barrel at her.

"Congratulations," he drawled. "If I'd been a real attacker, you'd be dead by now."

Was that necessary? Eh, prolly not. But if Qrow wasn't able to have his fun, no one was going to have fun.

"Get dressed. Some shit's gone down in Atlas, we need your White Fang expertise."

He started to turn around - damage already done, but he figured Mittens would appreciate trying to salvage some kind of dignity - when the blonde kid she'd been fuckin' actually tried to backtalk him.

"Hey, you can't just barge in here and drag her -"

The idiot shut up when Qrow turned, raising his shotgun at the kid and pointedly cocking the hammer. "Where's your weapon, boy?"

He flushed as he realized that he couldn't get to it before the man could fire off a shot. Worse, he realized that he didn't even know where it was, in the strewn assortment of discarded clothes.

"Bit of advice, kiddos. Keep a weapon at hand. Always. When you're bathing? A waterproof weapon had better be in the shower with you. Bumpin' uglies? Weapon on the nightstand, and one under the pillow, bare minimum." He nodded to Blake, who had thrown on some black robe, while looking like she was going to spontaneously combust from sheer embarrassment. "I don't give a shit that you're fuckin' around. I do care if you're sloppy about it. Sloppy gets you killed. Now let's go."

They were gone before Sun realized that they'd left him there, naked, in a dorm room with no door, and which reeked of sex. He quickly scrambled to try and dress before someone else came by.

"What's so important that you had to drag me…" Blake stumbled, trying to phrase it in the most delicate possible manner "away from my business?"

"Some kind of big cyber attack hit the SDC," Qrow answered. "Atlas as a whole is looking fucked, and there's all kinds of cascading effects that Oz is trying to map out. We need you to explain White Fang cyberwarfare, see if it was them or not."

Whatever embarrassment Blake was feeling immediately fled, as she felt her blood turn to ice. This had to have been a coincidence…right? There was no way that her little prank could have done that much damage.

She was still trying to convince herself of that as they entered the elevator to Ozpin's office.

[/]

The early morning air was crisp as a pair of Beacon students made their way towards the Durandal Ranch outside of Vale.

"So…are you sure about this, Lycan?"

The teenage wolf Faunus nodded. "Yeah, Sin. Yeah, I am. I want to do this. Or at least, be able to say that I tried."

"All right." Sinmin put his hand on his partner's shoulder. "After you."

Lycan knocked on the door. A moment later, a young, brunette woman answered. "Hello?" she asked.

"Hello. We need to speak with Knight-Commander Durandal. Is he here?"

The girl looked them up and down, recognizing their equipment and the way they carried themselves. "Are you two from Beacon?"

"Yep."

"Okay, let me get him." She stepped away from the door and down a hallway. The two students heard her call "grandpa!" and caught the distinct word "Beacon." After a moment, an old, old man came to the door.

"Yes?" he inquired as he stood before the two youths. "I am Sir Roland Durandal, owner of this ranch and Knight-Commander of the Knights of Vale. What can I do for you?"

"Can a Faunus become a knight?" blurted Lycan.

Sir Roland shifted more of his weight onto his cane. "Can a Faunus become a knight? Yes, there is no law or prohibition restricting the status of knighthood on the basis of race. However, few people, irrespective of their race, have the moral fortitude and discipline to adhere to the strict standards of conduct demanded of such a station. There has not been a Faunus to reach that status in several generations, but as you may have surmised, this is a time for renewal for our Order. Am I to assume that you wish to undergo the training and join our number?"

The blonde wolf Faunus steeled himself, then nodded. "Yes. I want to become a Knight of Vale."

"Tell me why."

Lycan considered for a moment. "When the riot happened…the purge…there were some Beacon students and some old White Fang veterans preparing the defense, but it ultimately came down to a clash between humans, which decided the day. We, the Faunus…we've been here just as long as anyone else in Vale. We're a part of this kingdom, not just a problem to be debated about, fought over, or driven out. This is our home too, and if the Knights of Vale are coming back, then there needs to be Faunus in their ranks."

"And you think that you could be that first Faunus?"

"Someone has to be," answered Lycan. "It might as well be me."

The old man gave him a long, searching look. "I see you have yourself some basic gear," he finally said. "I trust you have basic combat and Aura training?"

Lycan nodded. "I'm a first-year student at Beacon Academy. Graduated out of Signal Academy combat school."

Finally, Sir Roland looked over to Sinmin. "And what about you, young man?"

Sinmin raised his hands in the air, with a large grin. "Oh, don't look at me. I'm just here for his moral support. Well, that, and to knock your block off if you tell him that he can't join because he's a Faunus."

The old man actually barked a laugh at that. "Fair enough. You might as well come inside, then. We have much to discuss."

[/]

The rising sun had just broken the horizon when the party rode along the mountain pass, and onto the large hill which held the burned out remains of Chateau d'Arc. The hill ended in a sheer, white cliff, overlooking a river valley between the mountains of Vale and the northeasternmost range of Vacuo territory. Weiss gasped as the growing light of the dawn revealed the glittering white sheer sides of buttes carved from the rock over eons by the river.

Down below, the land between the mountains and river was filled with dense old-growth forest, while a bit to the east, the growth was much less dense, revealing overgrown fields and patches of once-cultivated land, a village next to the river.

"There used to be a town down by the river," Jaune spoke up, confirming her thoughts. "It didn't last long once the Arcs were gone. The survivors dispersed, and fell back to the mountains, eventually forming the village of Whitecliffe."

"But that place isn't nearly as fertile as this," Oscar noted. It was true; Whitecliffe's position was chosen for defensibility over all, and when they had stopped at the village the previous night, they had seen the sad patches of rocky ground where they attempted to coax what crops they could from the soil. In contrast, the valley was fertile and lush, and even the white buttes and plateaus along the river were topped with green and growing things.

"I see a city here," Jaune said, after a moment of quiet contemplation. "A port town down on the riverside. Forts guarding the riverbanks, north and south, and a stone bridge crossing to open land travel to Vacuo. Residential districts on the buttes, white stone walls rising into the sky. I'll have them joined with bridges…"

Weiss's eyes glistened as she listened to him speak. He was making plans, plans for a real future. Her Jaune wanted to live, was planning to live, to move on from the horrors of his past and build a future with her.

She couldn't remember ever being so happy. Even the news that her sister had relayed to her, of some cyberattack against the main SDC, couldn't bring down her mood. As SDC Saunus was incorporated in Vale, it was essentially its own autonomous entity, and her operations should continue unabated, leaving her free to stay with the man she loved.

"Oh, and that reminds me," Jaune said, bringing Weiss out of her thoughts. He guided his horse next to the cart, where Ren, Nora and Oscar sat. "Oscar, my pack?" The boy handed him one of the backpacks. Jaune dug around for a moment before pulling out a small metal case. He opened it, revealing two scrolls, one tied with a green ribbon and one tied by pink. He handed it to Nora with a smile. "Open them."

"What's this?" asked Nora. She passed the green-tied scroll to Ren, and untied the pink ribbon on her own scroll, opening it up. "In recognition of her service to the Kingdom and people of Vale," she began reading, "and of the bonds of true camaraderie she shares with Sir Jaune D'Arc, the Huntress Nora, called Nora Valkyrie, is hereby awarded one-half acre of land in the valley of Sauvignon, to be chosen by her upon the completion of a land survey. This is to be held by her and all of her heirs into perpetuity…" she skimmed over the legalese of conferring ownership onto her. "Signed by Sir Jaune D'Arc, Knight of Vale and Lord of Sauvignon, as witnessed by Councilor Ozpin and Sir Roland Durandal." The scroll fluttered as her hands shook. "Jaune…"

Ren, having received the same award of land, shared a stunned look with Nora. "I…this is…"

"I know it's not much now," said Jaune, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "I know that you guys are used to wandering, and you don't have to do anything with it, but…whatever happens in the future, you'll always have a home here in Vale, if you want it."

Jaune barely had time to activate his helmet as Nora dove at him, knocking him from his horse as she grabbed him into a bone-creaking bearhug. He wheezed as he retracted his helmet, as all the while, Nora babbled a mixture of thanks, praise, and future plans, in between great wracking sobs.

He patted her on the back as he rose to his feet. "You're welcome," he said.

"What about Pyrrha?" asked Ren.

"Oh, I have my own property in Argus to manage," the Champion of Mistral replied. "Jaune did ask, but I turned it down."

"But Argus is so faaaaar!" whined Nora. "It'll take so long to kidnap you for visits!"

"Wait, 'kidnap?'"

"Well, we should get to the reason we came here," said Jaune. "The Chateau is mostly structurally sound, so we can stay inside overnight."

"No, seriously, would you kidnap me?" Pyrrha asked Nora.

"Absolutely!" the shorter girl chirped, without an ounce of shame.

"That is both heartwarming and kind of scary."

"The old stable is smoke-damaged, but it should suffice to shelter our horses for the evening," Jaune pressed on, deliberately ignoring the banter while Weiss giggled at his plight. "We'll get them situated and then go searching for the graveyard."

When the others moved ahead, Jaune lingered for a moment to speak privately with Weiss. "So," he began. "Does this look viable to you, from a business standpoint?"

Weiss touched her finger to her chin as she thought. "Well, it'll take a lot of work, of course, but the river route back north to Vale is promising, and the buttes can make a defensible fallback position."

Jaune nudged the ground with the toe of his boot. "I…if you wanted to return to Atlas, I would too. For you."

She smiled up at him. "Hmm. Let me see. I can go back to the site of your horrid past, where I was treated like a showhorse for my father, or, I could stay with the man that I love, as he finally finds a dream of his own to work towards." Weiss nudged him. "Tough choice However shall I choose?"

"What about the people in Atlas?" he asked. "The last time, you said that you felt obligated to help them."

Weiss sighed. "That was before I was in a position of real power myself. Looking at it now…maybe what Atlas needs isn't a Schnee to set things right, but the space to decide their future themselves. My father will overstep, whether now, in five years, or ten, it's just how he is. And when he does, Atlas will have to decide if they'll keep letting him do it, or if they've finally had enough. But I'm happy here. You're happy here, and I'm all the happier for it."

Jaune smiled fondly at her. "You're an amazing goddess, and I love you."

"I know," she quipped.

As the group approached the ruined chateau, their mood fell into a more sober, almost melancholy contemplation. The front gate had been blasted open, all the windows were nearly uniformly shattered, and the center of the roof had caved in, the blackened remains of the wooden support beams collapsed into the floor.

With Jaune and Oscar working together, they had the draft horse unhitched from the cart, and the other steeds brushed down and settled in with water and feed. The horses now able to rest within the remains of the stable, the pair met with the rest of the team. As the only one present who had been there at Oobleck's death, Weiss carried the urn which held his ashes. Nora had a slate grave marker in her hands, and Ren handed Jaune a shovel.

"I can tell you that the graveyard isn't on the east side of the estate," Jaune said. "At least, I didn't see anything like that the last time I was here. We'll start looking to the west, behind the manor."

The youths set forth, scanning the grassy hilltop for any indication of gravestones. Even Percival picked up on the subdued feeling among his pack, periodically glancing nervously up at Weiss and Jaune as he trundled along beside them.

"When the fighting stopped…General Ironwood must have been the first on the scene," the young knight said, more to himself than to his companions. He came with my father's body and his sword, and left with…well, with me. Ozpin was probably next to arrive, and he contacted the people at the village. He took the sword, Crocea Mors, as a national relic of Vale, and directed the townsfolk to see to the bodies. After they left, Chateau d'Arc lay empty for more than fifteen years, until Ozpin brought me here…told me to learn who I was…"

"Jaune, look!" Nora tugged on his arm, drawing him from his brooding. She pointed at the partially-overgrown remains of a low, white stone wall.

Quickly making their way to it, they pried creeping vines away to reveal a rusty iron gate, held shut by a padlock that had long since rusted completely closed.

Feeling oddly embarrassed about further damaging his ancestors' property, Jaune sheepishly channeled his Aura into his hands and crushed the lock into dust. The gate still put up a fight even after that, only opening with great effort, and making a terrible screeching din in the process.

Within the walls, dozens of gravestones stood. The oldest ones, furthest from the gate, were worn with time, while all of the markers were overgrown to some extent. A few yards in from the gate stood seven graves, which looked to be the most recent. Kneeling in front of the one at the end of the row, Ren took out a small, curved-edged and black-bladed knife from the small of his back and looked up at Jaune for permission.

Jaune nodded, and Ren began clearing away the vines and growth from the graves with quick, precise swipes of his knife. As the inscription on the grave was made clear, Ren paused. Jaune looked over his shoulder and swallowed. "Cerulea Arc, Age Three," he read, his voice thick. "Beloved Daughter and Sister. Goodnight, Our Little Princess."

Off to one side, Oscar quietly shifted, uncomfortable in the sudden realization that inviting himself onto this trip and essentially badgering Jaune into taking him along may have been a bit…insensitive. In the hush that had fallen over the group, Weiss took Jaune's arm, holding it close against her.

After a moment, Ren looked up at Jaune, who nodded for him to continue. Ren shuffled to the left, and after clearing the next gravestone. "Violet Arc, Age Seven," he read. "Beloved Daughter and Sister. Our Happy Little Flower."

"Viridia Arc, Age Seven. Beloved Daughter and Sister. Rest Forever Among the Green and Growing Things You Loved."

"Saphron Arc, Age Ten. Beloved Daughter and Sister. The Gods Weep."

"Diane Blancfleur, Age Thirty-Two. Huntress, and Beloved Wife and Mother. None So Gentle in Life, None So Fierce in Death."

"Sir Guillaume d'Arc, Age Thirty-Two. Knight of the Kingdom of Vale, Lord of Sauvignon, and Beloved Husband and Father. For Those He Loved, He Dared."

Finally, Ren reached the last gravestone in the row. "Nala Lionheart, Age Twenty-Three. Huntress. If The Way Home is Closed to You, We Bid Thee Rest With Us, Beloved Sister of Our Heart."

"Team GOLD was always close," Jaune finally spoke up, his voice strained with emotion. "It was led by Guillaume Arc - Gil to his friends. Gil Arc, Bartholomew Oobleck, Nala Lionheart, and Diane Blancfleur. We'll put Doctor Oobleck to rest here, next to Nala's grave. The man lived twenty-six years beyond her, and his only request was to be interred at her side. It's the least we can do for the good doctor."

Jaune took off his white cape, handing it to Weiss, then approached the open space to the left of Lionheart's grave. With quick, sure strokes, he broke the earth and began digging a space for the urn. With the doctor having been cremated, and his ashes placed in an urn, there was no practical need to dig the full six feet deep for his grave, but, as Jaune could only assume that they had dug the typical depth for the lady Lionheart, he felt that Oobleck would have appreciated the extra effort to put his remains literally next to hers.

As Jaune dug, the other students gathered around to reminisce about their late professor, partially for Oscar's benefit, and partially as a sendoff.

"...and without fail, he would appear, like magic, and say -"

"It's Doctor!" Nora interrupted Pyrrha by popping up next to her, startling the taller girl and causing her to jump nearly a foot in the air with a shout.

"It took Jaune flat-out asking him to slow down for him to become more intelligible in his lectures," Ren explained to Oscar.

"When…when he died," Weiss took over, peering down at the urn in her hands. "Ruby - my team leader at Beacon, and a dear friend to all of us - she had been chained to a chair, and left for the Grimm. Doctor Oobleck didn't hesitate to put himself in danger to try and save her. And…it killed him. But even though he died, it gave us the time to save Ruby's life."

"One last lesson from Doctor Oobleck," Jaune said, as he pulled himself out of the hole he'd dug. "That is what it means to be a Huntsman. To lay down your life in the defense of others." He took the urn from Weiss, and lowered himself back into the hole in order to gently place Oobleck's urn at the bottom. Taking up the shovel once more, it was a matter of mere moments to replace the soil he'd displaced in order to bury the doctor's ashes. As he finished, Ren held the gravestone in place, and Nora, with a surprising degree of care, hammered the base of the stone into the ground.

"Bartholomew Oobleck, Age Forty-Nine," Weiss read. "Huntsman and educator. He Gave His Life in Defense of His Students."

Jaune rejoined Weiss, who took out one of her handkerchiefs to start dabbing the sweat from his brow. "I guess…we should say something, but…I don't…I don't really know how. Pyrrha?"

"I'm not really a priestess like my mother, but…I can try?" she offered, with her gentle, demure smile. She took a step forward, cleared her throat, clasped her hands together in front of her, and bowed her head.

"As there is a God of Dark, there is a God of Light," she began. "Let Him turn His gaze upon the souls of this family, and bring to them the balm of peace, warmed for eternity in His silver, celestial luminance. Let our teacher be eased of the sorrows of grief, joined at last with the soul of his departed love. Let the spirits of these children know only the eternal love and security within the embrace of their mother and father. And let their surviving son be eased of the torments of injustice, and blessed to bring new life once more."

Pyrrha took a deep breath. "As there is a God of Light, there is a God of Darkness. Let Him turn His gaze upon those who slew this family, and bring to them misery, and destruction, and death beyond death. Let them gaze in despair at the tattered ruins of their souls, and weep tears of blood at the enormity of their damnation. Let them suffer, and rot, and let their utter annihilation ensure the safety of this family's remaining son, his line beyond him, and the land that they call home."

There was some alarm from her friends as Pyrrha drew her sword and ran its edge along her wrist. She held out her bleeding limb, letting her blood run into the grass and seep into the soil. "Life for life and death for death. By blood, by breath, by life, by death, I offer of myself to make it so."

Pyrrha's Aura had already closed the wound on her wrist by the time Jaune reached her, but he gave her a quick Aura boost anyway, on general principle. She looked around, her emerald eyes wide and innocent, puzzled at the genuine alarm on her friends' faces. "What?"

Jaune let out a long breath. "Well. Pyrrha's part of a blood cult. Good to know for future reference, I guess."

"Well, you did ask me," Pyrrha said.

"Yes, yes I did." Jaune could only shake his head in fond exasperation of his partner. "I'm beginning to realize just how you all must have felt that time I tried to commit suicide."

Pyrrha sniffed at the comparison, which she found highly unflattering. "It's hardly the same. A little bloodletting just lets the Gods know you're serious."

"Right." He turned to the rest of the team. "Mission accomplished, team. I…I'd like to stay here a little longer, if you don't mind. Ren, I'd appreciate it if you got lunch started. Nora, there are some trees in a copse not far from the base of the hill, where you can gather some kindling for a fire. Oscar," he handed the boy the shovel with a slight smile. "On the far side of the manor house from here, you'll find an area overgrown with various flowering plants. Your mission is to find an out-of-the-way spot within this area, and dig some latrine pits for us to use."

Oscar blinked. "Latrine pits?" he echoed.

Jaune nodded with great solemnity. "Latrine pits. The plumbing in the house doesn't function, and while the place has seen better days, I would really rather not make things worse. Besides, the flowering place was probably once a garden belonging to my mother, my sister, or both. If we must make waste, we can at least help fertilize the flowers. And that, boy, is called 'making the best of a bad situation.' Off you go."

As Ren, Nora, and Oscar left to undertake their assigned tasks, Pyrrha lingered a bit. "Have you considered speaking to them?" she asked. "The existence of the soul is a verifiable fact, after all."

"Do you think they can hear me?" Jaune asked her.

"Do you?" Pyrrha smiled at him. "At worst, you just feel a little silly for a moment. At best, well, who knows?" With that, she turned and left the graveyard.

Jaune looked down at Weiss, who answered his questioning gaze with a little shrug. Feeling a little self-conscious, he took a deep breath and decided to go for it. "Er…hello Mom…Dad…assorted sisters. It's me…Jaune. I lived. Not…that that's always been easy, but…" He ran a hand through his hair, absently noting how long it was getting. "I guess if a soul persists after death, there's no reason why it wouldn't be able to look in on things from the afterlife. I was…lost. For a long, long time. Incidentally, Dad, you need to get some better friends, because wow. But anyways…I'm still here. Battered, scarred in a way I don't know will ever really heal, but…here I am. Jaune. He couldn't kill what was best in me."

He stood in silence for a long moment, Weiss still holding his arm. "This is Weiss," he said. "The absolute love of my life. She agreed to marry me, in her infinite grace. Someday, we're going to have a bunch of kids of our own."

"Two, maybe three," Weiss piped up.

"Five or six?" he asked, all innocent, big blue eyes.

Weiss snorted. "You can have five or six children when you push them out yourself, Arc."

"Two or three it is!" Jaune agreed happily. Weiss rolled her eyes. "The point is," continued Jaune, "This isn't the end of us. This isn't how our line ends. I lived. And one day, our home will live again too. I have plans, big plans, for this land. The Knights of Vale are coming back. First me, maybe one day Oscar too - I have a squire now, by the way - and more will come, I just know it. One day, our house will be a home once more, a place for our family to grow and live and thrive." He held Weiss to him. "I won't be the last of the Arcs forever. I wish I could have known you, all of you. I'll do my best to make you proud." He looked down to Weiss. "So…did I do that right?"

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and she popped onto her toes to kiss him. "You were perfect."

[/]

Ruby tried not to let her frustration show as she sparred against her sister in a training room. Yang had never really gone all-out against her, let alone the sort of berserk fury that she and her friends had reported from Mountain Glenn, but…she had always possessed a joy for the fight itself, the giddy enthusiasm of a girl at play.

There was no spirit to Yang's movements now, only rote techniques executed with neither heart nor joy. She might as well have been a sparring bot. Ruby was no pugilist herself, but she knew Yang, and knew that this was a far cry from how her sister had been before Mountain Glenn.

"Okay, just…just stop!" Ruby stalked away, holding her forehead in her hand. After a moment she looked up at Yang. "How are we going to take you into a fight like this?"

"I'll be fine!" protested Yang. "The next fight, I'm going out in my Sunstrider, easy as pie."

"And what after that? Huh? You going to stay in the cockpit all the time?"

Yang lowered her eyes. "I…"

"Yang…" Ruby sighed, then walked up to Yang and put her hand on her shoulder. "You're my sister, Yang, and I love you. I can never thank you enough for saving me at Mountain Glenn. But we're going to be in a war soon. If you want to transfer full time to the VDF and be a pilot, then I'll back you all the way. But if you want to stay here, at Beacon, and be a part of Team RWBY? Then you're going to need to get it together, and you're going to need to do it fast."

With that, Ruby turned and walked out of the training room, meeting with Penny in the hallway. Yang ran a hand through her hair, sitting heavily on a bench against one of the walls. Ruby was right, of course, but damn…taken to task by her own baby sister.

There was nothing saying that she couldn't quit Beacon, sign up with the VDF full time. She'd even still be in the fight, just…in a different way. But…something still ate at her about the notion. No one would say anything to her, but she would know. She would know that this…whatever this was, it beat her. That she went into Mountain Glenn a Huntress, and left it a traumatized girl, afraid of her own capacity for violence.

During those wild hours at Mountain Glenn, Yang had burned, wildly, as bright as a star and twice as hot, laying waste to her enemies with unbridled fury. Ever since then, though…her fire had gone out.

When was the last time fighting had felt fun for her? When she felt alive, felt her blood rushing through her, the joyful blaze that had been her constant companion all her life?

Yang blushed as she recalled blood red hair and hard green eyes, the toned arms of Pyrrha Nikos as she had held her wrists together over her head and pushed her against a wall.

The door to the training room slid open, and Blake practically scrambled inside. "Yang, we need to -"

"I need you to pin me against the wall and make out with me!" blurted Yang.

Whatever Blake had been about to say faltered as she drew up short, her amber eyes blinking in confusion. "Uh…what?"

"I need to try something to get me out of this funk I've been in," explained Yang. "I need hot girl-on-girl action, Blake!"

"Don't we all?" muttered her partner, before she shook her head. "N-no, focus! Yang, we need to do something about the SDC!"

"I thought we did yesterday?" Yang asked.

"Haven't you watched the news at all?" hissed Blake. When she received a blank, lilac stare in response, the cat Faunus facepalmed with her prosthetic hand. "The entire freakin' SDC has been paralyzed! All of their systems have been hard-locked for over a day now?"

"So?"

"So?" Blake echoed, incredulous. "That wasn't what was supposed to happen! It was just supposed to make life difficult for an hour or two, tweak Jacques Schnee's mustache, and that's it! Instead, the entire Atlesian economy is fucked!"

"That sounds like a them problem," breezed Yang. "I mean, fuck those guys, am I right? They made Jaune do all that evil shit growing up, remember? I mean, the only Atlesians we even know are here, and ten-to-one odds say that Weiss marries Jaune and stays here in Vale. So, just let the nerds sort this out. That's what they get paid to do anyway, right?"

"That's…" Blake shook her head. "Look, we did this. We have a responsibility to fix it!"

"No, you did that, while I made porno jokes in the corner."

Blake stared at her. Yang stared right back.

"What?" asked the blonde. "Do I look like I have any idea what you did or how to fix it?"

"This is why I have trust issues!"

"What do you want from me?" Yang threw her hands in the air. "If you don't know how you did what you did, then I've got nothin' for you. You got an idea in your pretty little head, like you always do, and you went off without thinking things through, like you always do, and things got out of hand, like they always do, and now you're looking to your friends to bail you out, like you always do! It's a little late for second thoughts now, Blake!" She sighed, slouching on her bench.

Blake's expression was carefully still. "We can't just do nothing, Yang."

"That's exactly what I'm plannin' to do." Yang stood and stretched, giving Blake a little shrug. "Sometimes, you can't just fix something once it's broke. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

[/]

It wasn't that Taiyang had gone out-of-shape, as such, as his position as the primary Huntsman for the island of Patch and a combat instructor at Signal combat school meant that he had to keep in fighting shape. But he had to admit that there was a difference between where he currently stood and where he'd been at his prime as part of Team STRQ, grief and depression taking its toll.

Taking out Leo Lionheart had been a half-decent warmup, but the man had let himself go even more than he had, and beating him to death hadn't really been a challenge at all. Now, whenever the machine was taking its shift looking over Ruby, Taiyang dedicated his time and effort into shaking the rust off.

The problem, though, was that, with Qrow recovering from his injury and his new girl focused on playing with her ship, there weren't many combatants at Beacon who were able to dance at the level that he was looking for. Barty was dead, Peter was dead, Glynda was buried up to her eyebrows in paperwork, and it's not like Peach would be able to give him much of a fight at all.

The eight fourth-year students, two full teams, who were strewn along the ground around him, were a testament to his difficulties in finding proper sparring partners. These students were on the verge of being able to call themselves Huntsmen, and Taiyang had torn through them like a wolf among sheep. One or two of them had been former students from Signal, who had been treated to a very rude awakening about just how much he'd been holding back.

"Well. Thank you all for the spar," he said politely, speaking to the groaning, battered, and occasionally unconscious students. "Consider this a learning experience."

With that, Taiyang left the sparring room. Somewhere, some sick son of a bitch was scheming to get his filthy mitts on his little girls. Little bastard would be in for the shock of his fucking life when he tried, of that, Tai was dead certain.

[/]

It had been an interesting day for Jaune's team, to say the least.

After laying their professor to rest, Jaune had shown his friends around the remnants of the Arc ancestral home. It had been a sobering experience, to see the damage and the places where their friend's family members had fallen, the building imbued with a sort of tragic grandeur. However, their host pressed on, speaking about ideas for the restoration or preservation of the building and its contents, and of plans for building the manor anew.

They set up an impromptu camp in the armory, just as Jaune had done before he'd attended Beacon, half a year and a lifetime ago. When he'd seen the empty armor stand of his princely ancestor's armor, Weiss had consoled him, suggesting that one day, the armor that he, himself wore would one day stand ready for one of their descendents in their time of need.

Of course, that particular comment couldn't go without remark, and so Jaune and Weiss had admitted that they were engaged, and had been since he'd staggered back from Mountain Glenn. There had been much cheering, and hugs, and a wry remark from Ren that it was 'the least surprising engagement in the history of romance.'

With the weather clear and accommodating, Ren and Nora had set up a campfire, and the latter was having fun tossing various ingredients into a stew pot suspended over the flames, much to the consternation of the perfectionist Weiss. Pyrrha lay with her hands behind her head, idly watching as the setting sun began to turn the clouds pink and gold.

It was a peaceful scene. Jaune was sorry to have to disrupt it. He dropped a hand onto Oscar's shoulder. "A word, if you would."

"What is it?" asked the boy.

"You know all those terribly, terribly awkward talks we've been obliged to have since we met?"

Oscar nodded.

Jaune's smile was tight, half a grimace. "This is going to make those look like a walk in the park. Still, it's something you need to know, and it's best you hear it from me."

With a wave to the rest of his friends, Jaune led his younger counterpart away from the campfire. He found a nice-looking grassy rise overlooking he valley, and sat, bidding Oscar to do the same. "So." Jaune paused, searching for the right words. After a moment, where the boy had begun to look at him in confusion, he decided to plow ahead. "There's something important, very important, that you need to know before deciding to squire for me in truth."

"But-"

Jaune held up his hand to forestall Oscar's protest. "It's not a reflection on you, but rather, of me. Of the past that I've lived, and…" he took a deep breath. "Of the crimes I've committed."

"Crimes?"

"Yes," Jaune said, as blunt as Nora's hammer. "Terrible crimes. Unforgivable crimes. You need to know, so that you can make a free and informed choice."

Oscar stared at him as if he'd grown a second head, right there on the spot. "What…what kind of crimes?"

"You've seen the state of this place, and I mentioned how my family died fighting. The first one on the scene, the very first, was my father's old friend, General James Ironwood, of Atlas. He had been with my father on his last mission, and had been terribly, terribly wounded in the fighting. Ironwood must have come with my father's body - Ozpin said that my father and his sword were in a steel casket - but he didn't leave empty-handed. He took me with him, when I was just an infant."

"For most of my life, I thought I was being raised to be a soldier," continued Jaune, staring out over the white cliffs of the valley. "As it turns out, I was raised and trained to be a weapon, an extension of Ironwood's will, and nothing more. I began learning to fight almost as soon as I could walk, and I was damn good at it. I was younger than you the first time I killed a man. Ironwood used me as his blunt instrument to beat down the White Fang insurgency in Atlas. Most of the ones I killed were in a fight, but there were times when targets would surrender, and the General would order me to kill them anyway. And I did."

Jaune looked down to his hands. "Looking back at it, from where I am now, I can't believe just how empty my life was. Or…'existence,' I should say. The only light in my life was Weiss, who her older sister, one of the General's soldiers at the time, had taken me to meet her. I killed people, Oscar. Some were unarmed, a few had been given rudimentary weapons as a sort of exercise for me, but none of them had any real chance. But there was one…a prisoner, a young woman. The General wanted her broken, and had me…torture her, and mutilate her, before finally executing her."

Slowly, Jaune forced himself to look up, to meet Oscar's eyes, and see the expression of shock and horror there. "You wouldn't recognize who I was a year ago. The only reason I broke away from Ironwood was because he wanted me to execute Percival, as a demonstration of my complete and utter obedience to him. I refused. I refused, because Weiss was the only real joy in my life, and I knew that shooting her dog like that was tantamount to surrendering my relationship with her, and that…I couldn't do."

"So, after everything, Ironwood, furious that his 'perfect weapon' could and would refuse his orders, kicked me to the curb. Ozpin came to me then. He told me about my family, bringing me first to this place, and then, to Beacon, where I met with Ren, Nora, and Pyrrha, and a lot of other people, more or less staggering down the path towards knighthood."

"So…" Oscar's voice caught. "After all of this, you're…a fraud?"

"Maybe I am. Maybe I don't deserve the mantle of knighthood, after everything."

"No kidding." Oscar laughed, a bitter sound with no humor. "Going around executing bandits. Why don't you turn your sword on yourself first?"

"I tried."

The simple, blunt answer, surprised Oscar. "What?"

"I tried," said Jaune, with a shrug. "I turned Ascalon towards myself, intending to end it all, but Pyrrha stopped me, then Ozpin convinced me to swear never to attempt such a thing again. Turns out, I'm more useful alive than dead. Like it or not, myself and Sir Roland are all that's left of the Knights of the Vale."

"For now," said Oscar.

"For now," agreed Jaune. "Maybe redemption is possible. Maybe it isn't. Maybe I can't be the true knight that Vale needs, but I believe that you can. In time, with training, and guidance, you can be a better knight than me…and that brings us back to our conundrum."

Oscar stared at him, his dark green eyes full of shock, and hurt. "I…"

"Don't have to make a decision right here and now," Jaune finished for him. "Like I said, you'll have until we return to Sir Roland to decide. There's no shame in going to Signal Combat School for a few years, to get your fundamentals worked out. By then, well, I'm sure that there will be more people joining the Order, and with a recommendation from Sir Roland and myself, you'll almost certainly find a knight to squire for. Or you could go to Beacon and train to become a Huntsman, or any of a myriad other things that could draw your interest."

He shrugged. "Or you could agree to remain squired to me, but if you do so, know that you are making a commitment. Knight and squire, a partnership that only ends when you are knighted or one of us lays dead. If you choose that option, then let no one say that you weren't duly informed of my past beforehand."

Jaune nodded once, then stood to return to the rest of his friends, leaving Oscar to his thoughts.

Weiss stood to guide him to a spot next to her. "You told him everything?"

"I did."

"And how did he take it?"

He called me a fraud and wondered why I hadn't killed myself. Aloud, he said, "Well, he wasn't thrilled, but it could have gone a lot worse."

Weiss fixed him with a look of supreme skepticism. "Jaune."

"It's fine," he said, waving off her concern. "It had to be done. I made sure to tell him that he has until we reach Sir Roland's to come to a decision regarding his future."

"Well, you did right by him, at any rate," Ren spoke up from the other side of the fire. "Considering he invited himself on this expedition, you've done all that can be expected of you."

"Yup!" added Nora. "Now, have some stew, or I'll hit you with the pot."

"Well, we can't have that, now can we?" Jaune smiled at her, once again grateful to have found such friends. His was a hard road, but at least it was no longer a lonesome one. He shifted as Weiss leaned against him.

"You sure you don't want to call for a pickup? With the SDC thing going down?"

Weiss shrugged. "The Schnee Dust Company has come under all kinds of attacks for as long as I remember. If I dropped everything I was doing everytime someone with a grudge took a swipe at them, I'd never get anything done."

"Well, just so long as you're sure."

"I am. This is probably some joker's idea of a prank that actually worked for once. It'll be cleared up by the time we get back to Vale, I'm sure."

[/]

There had been many times, since that distant, horrible day when he had come face to face with the True Enemy, that James Ironwood, General of the Atlas military, Headmaster of the Atlas Academy, and leader of the Council, had been driven to do horrible things. Unspeakable things. Unforgivable acts that had stained his soul and smashed against the towering edifice of his resolve like waves crashing against the stones.

More often than not, his Great Work left him feeling hollow, as one by one, all those around him, those who lacked the vision and the resolve to solve the Salem Issue turned their backs on him. Glynda. Ozpin. Jaune Arc, Penny, and even Winter Schnee, they had all abandoned him to face the fight alone.

So be it.

As a result, it was a rare day indeed that the General's work gave him a true satisfaction, and this was a part of the Great Work that Ironwood had been genuinely looking forward to carrying out for a long, long time.

Jacques Schnee was a cocksucker. He was a genuine waste of sapience, a spineless cretin with no vision beyond the profit margin, no convictions save his own overinflated sense of supremacy, and all the moral fiber of a used-up wad of toilet paper.

In his worst days, Ironwood consoled himself that, for all the monstrousness of his deeds, they, at least, had been done with an eye towards a greater goal and purpose, to freeing all life from the True Enemy. Jacques Schnee's atrocities stemmed from uncontrolled avarice and an overwhelming desire to lord over others.

For all of the vile little worm's many, many, multitudinous character deficiencies, the man had been possessed of one, singular use, a use that had, thus far, preserved his station and his life. The man was a useful tool for keeping the Faunus riled up, and that had been of great value in consolidating his grip over Atlas.

But now, with Ozpin looking to make his move with a Silver-Eyed Warrior, the time was nearly upon them to take the fight to the True Enemy, and for that, well, half-measures would no longer suffice. The wealth of Atlas was squandered on useless luxuries and comforts for the fantastically-rich, who squatted in the positions of ease and privilege. They would burn the kingdom to the ground around themselves for just a few fleeting extra moments of that lifestyle, leaving ruin in their wake.

No more. The full might of Atlas would be brought to bear, turning the greatest kingdom into the last, best hope against the True Enemy. And it began with the heart and soul of Atlas's oligarchic class, Jacques Schnee himself.

Someone, somewhere, had some kind of grudge against the SDC - not surprising, given the qualities of its CEO - and had made a cyberattack against the corporation. It was simplicity in itself to intercept that code - or rather, have one of his pet hackers intercept it - and amplify it, turning a teenage prank into a system-wide shutdown, with its effects cascading across not only the SDC, but the entire Atlesian economy.

It was the perfect pretext. Oh, those dastardly White Fang. Wouldn't they ever learn?

James was in the best mood he'd been in for years as his soldiers swiftly took over the Schnee Manor. The SDC private security was completely blindsided, never expecting an attack from the Atlesian military itself. Under Captain Clover's command, the security personnel and servant staff were first subdued, then gathered into the foyer, and finally, executed.

The Schnee wife and the only child remaining in the household were secured, and so it was that General Ironwood himself had the great satisfaction of booting open the door to Jacques Schnee's private office.

The weasel sat at his desk, trying to act like the collected and reasonable head of the largest corporation in the world. It was all James could do not to laugh at the pitiful attempt; Schnee was sweating everywhere, his face was pallid and clammy, and his fingers trembled at his desk.

"I have issues with your customer service," Ironwood said.

"W-what is the meaning of this! Invading my home, detaining my staff -"

"Executed," James interrupted. "A damn shame, of course, but you know how those feral and unspeakable creatures of the White Fang are." He grinned as he saw the look of realization slowly dawn on Schnee's face, just as he'd thrown words the man had spoken about the White Fang back into it.

"You! You…"

Now Ironwood did laugh. It was not a pleasant sound, a deep, grating rasp, as though his body had forgotten how to do so over the long years of his toil and sacrifice.

"I can't believe you were stupid enough to believe that I truly served you and people like you." He shook his head. "You're a parasite, Jacques, a leech feeding off of the strength of Atlas. I want you to know that nothing that you did mattered, save making it easier for me to take control. Your schemes have come to naught, Jacques. After I've killed you, I'll step in - to restore order, you see - and nationalize the Dust industry. Every last blood-drenched lien you ever scrounged up in your grubby little life will be going to empower the state, to make Atlas strong for the war to come."

"You can't do this! The Council will never stand for it!"

James leaned forward. "I am the Council, Jacques. You helped see to that. You wanted…what was it again?" Ironwood pretended to ponder. "Ah yes. Specifically, you wanted 'a military of overwhelming size and technological sophistication, such that none can ever threaten the security of Atlas again.'"

He drew his heavy pistol, Due Process, and leveled it at the chest, where a normal man's heart would be.

"Wait!" Jacques shrieked, soiling himself in his terror, stumbling and trying to rise from his seat.

"Congratulations on your success."

Ironwood pulled the trigger, blasting a hole the size of a fist through Jacques Schnee's chest. The impact bowled man and chair over, leaving the former richest, most powerful man in the world a crumpled heap of meat on the floor.

The General stood over the body, noting, with some fascination, the remaining chunk of meat in the blasted ribcage, which still throbbed frantically before slowing and finally, stilling.

"How about that?" he mused. "He had a heart after all."

With that, he holstered his sidearm and strode into the foyer, passing the body of the family butler where it had been left to lay, the man's lifeblood pooling onto the floor. A contingent of his soldiers, under Captain Clover, held Willow and Whitley Schnee. The woman was hysterical, and drunk to boot, while the boy shivered so violently that James genuinely wondered if he would shake himself into a concussion.

"What did you do?!" Willow demanded. "What have you done with Jacques?!"

"Well, I shot him, of course. You didn't think I did all this to hand him the Key to the City, did you?"

With a surprising strength, Willow broke free of the soldiers' grip, and staggered forward to slap him across the face. James, unmoved and entirely unphased, nodded once, then responded in kind. He backhanded the newly-widowed Schnee across the face with a steel hand, the metal clanging against her cheek and sending the small, curvaceous woman to the floor.

"Mother!" Whitley tried to go to his mother, but the soldier holding him, wary of repeating his squadmate's mistake, kept his grip tight around the boy's arms.

"Pick that up," he said. "And don't fail to restrain a prisoner again, soldier. There's always room for another body on the pile."

"What are you going to do with us?" Whitley asked.

"Well, son, I've got good news and bad news. The bad news - for you, that is - is that, under the Emergency Nationalization Act, the Schnee Dust Company, and all assets, liquid and real, are to be transferred to the ownership of the Kingdom of Atlas."

"You can't do that!" protested the youngest Schnee.

"Boy, I just walked into your home, easy as you please, killed almost everyone you know, and then backhanded your mother. 'Can't' is not a word that applies to me."

The boy adopted a sullen look. "Then what's this 'good news,' then?"

"You're going to have a chance to serve your country, boy." He looked to the unconscious Willow, then back to Whitley. What he had was a very rare opportunity - a helpless, Aura-locked person, yet who was known to possess a powerful and versatile Semblance, and a trained, experienced woman who could tell him how to use it to its fullest potential.

"And how am I going to do that?"

James smiled at him, a harsh and joyless, ghastly expression. "You're going to serve in the most important mission in the history of the human race, boy."

With his troops in tow and his valuable prisoners subdued, Ironwood left, satisfied with the progress that his Great Work had taken this day.

Behind him, the Schnee Manor burned.

[/]

Oscar had sat, alone, long after the sun had set and the night sky filled with stars, the broken moon hanging overhead.

Eventually, Ren and Nora had come to sit with him, the latter pressing a bowl of hot soup into his hands. They both sat, with Nora uncharacteristically-quiet, merely waiting for him to finish eating and give voice to his troubled thoughts.

"How do you do it?" he finally asked.

"How do we do what?" asked Nora.

"How can you stand to be around him, knowing what he did?"

Ren and Nora shared a glance. "You were raised by your aunt until very recently, were you not?" Ren began.

"Well, yes, but -"

Ren held up his hand. "Please, hear me out." He shook his head. "When Nora and I were very young, we were orphaned, her first, and myself not long afterwards. From that day on, all we had was one another. It was difficult, often dangerous, and always, there was privation. More than that, it was apparent that there was no place for us, not anywhere. Had this General Ironwood come to us, offering us safety, plenty, and belonging, if only we would learn to fight and kill his enemies, enemies that he said endangered the country, well…it is easy to see how Nora and I could have ended up just like Jaune. And we were both years older than he was when Ironwood took him."

Oscar wrapped his hands around his knees, bitterly. "That doesn't excuse what he did."

"No," agreed Nora. "But that doesn't mean that we can't understand why he did what he did."

"Honestly, given that he spent his entire formative years under the thumb of a violent, deranged madman, it's telling that Jaune is as moral as he is."

"How moral is that?"

"He could have held his tongue," Ren pointed out. "He could have kept his own counsel on his past, and you would not have known a bit of it. Even had you heard it from someone else, would you have believed them?"

Reluctantly, Oscar shook his head. "No. No, I wouldn't have."

"It would have been much easier for him to remain silent," continued Ren. "But he insisted that you had a right to know, before making such a dedicated commitment. I know it sounds trite, but even compared to how he was when we first met, he has become practically a different person. The expansion of his moral scope and character has been nothing short of astonishing."

"We stick with Jaune, both because it's important for us orphans to stick together, but also because he's always had our best interest in mind," said Nora. "Even with all the craziness at Mountain Glenn, he gave us a choice, just like he's giving you one."

Ren shifted. "It's not that we're trying to persuade you one way or another as to what choice you'll make. All we're asking is that, when you part with him, you try to do so on good terms."

"What?" asked Oscar. "Why?"

"You said something to him, didn't you?" asked Ren. "He tried to hide it, but Nora and I have come to know him very well. Something you said hurt him."

The boy shifted uncomfortably. "When he told me what he'd done, I…I called him a fraud. And I asked him why, if he executed killers, he hadn't killed himself first."

"Ah. And I trust he told you what happened after that?"

"Yeah. Did he really try?"

"Not a happy day," said Nora. "For anyone."

The three of them sat in silence for a while, before Ren spoke up once more. "And what did Jaune tell you, when he left?"

"He said…he said he didn't know if he could be the true knight that Vale needs…but he thinks that I could be, someday."

Nora chuffed a laugh. "Of course he did, the big softie."

The trio settled once more into a companionable silence, watching the stars in the night sky.

[/]

"What do you mean, 'all of it?'" Ironwood demanded of the hapless Lieutenant who had drawn the short straw to give him the news.

"That's what they're saying at the econ lab, sir! Every liquid asset that could be transferred to SDC Sanus had been, roughly five minutes before Operation House Arrest commenced. Weiss Schnee is now the single richest person in the world."

In the long silence that followed, James clenched his steel fist so hard that the alloy began to groan and creak at the strain. But that wasn't what the sound that drew his ire.

The useless Schnee lush was laughing. Laughing at him.

He turned to the boy. "Good news. Your service is about to begin immediately." To Clover, he ordered "Take them to the chamber. I want her to watch this. That'll wipe that smug smirk off her face."

[/]

"Jaune! Jaune, wake up!"

His long-honed habits had the young knight awake and ready for trouble in an instant. "Weiss? What is it!"

"Jaune…" she stared at him, then down to her Scroll, her expression one of complete shock.

"My father is dead."

[/]

Chapter Endnotes: This was originally going to be half-again as long, but I figured that this was a good place to end this update.

Cascading effects are cascading.

Another attempts to earn the mantle of knighthood.

Blake has a habit of looking before she leaps, and what she thought would just be a harmless prank has ending up going out of control beyond all reason and having effects that will shake both the world as a whole and the life of one of her friends and teammates.

Yang, of course, has little or no idea what to do about any of it, and so resolves not to dwell on it.

While writing villain!Ironwood is often a strain, writing him bastardly enjoying his bastardly bastardry in yoinking the carpet out from under Jacques was surprisingly enjoyable.

Oscar has more ambition than sense.

Mercury is planning to yoink a Rubes. Taiyang is prepping to gank a Merc. Fight night!

Right, next update, the fallout from Atlas, Jaune and co return to Vale, and the mission to extirpate Doctor Merlot is readied.

Ciao!

Love,

Mahina Fable