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Chapter Text

They called it the Silent War.

We thought it was fitting, for one reason or another. My neighbor told me that it got the name because people really stopped talking to one another after their hearts were consumed by the terror. One of my old squadmates said it was to remember all those silenced by the war forever. A guy I met at the bar claimed it was because of the territories we still hadn’t recovered.

Officially, it was because of the communication blackout between kingdoms after the collapse of the cross continental transmission system. We couldn't hear what others were trying to say, and our voices couldn't reach them. An ominous silence descended on all of Remnant.

Most of us still had our Scrolls, knowing full well that they were nothing but fancy cameras without the CCTs. Most stubbornly held on to them, using the devices as journals, photo albums, or video recorders. It was a small comfort I suppose, one of the precious few we had then. But some threw theirs away, frustrated that they could no longer call or text their friends and families. Some were driven mad by the silence.

I think they didn't really understand.

If you listened, you could hear voices everywhere. The desperate refugees pleaded for shelter with their tearful eyes. The weary soldiers apologized to those they couldn't save as they clutched their bloody uniforms. The abandoned screamed their angry accusations by turning their back on us. You could hear it all without the people uttering a word. They were all sounds, the sounds of silence.

We lost so much in this devastating war. Friends separated, family severed, humanity shattered, and the peace we had always known burned to ashes. But we held on.

We held on strong through all the dark and hopeless nights. We held on through the blood and tears and pain. We held on and lived.

Even when our armies were slaughtered, our defenses broken, and the people we were supposed to protect mangled into a bloody mess before our own eyes, we endured and lived. Hell, we even lived through the Grimm Tide, which I'm still convinced should have been the end of all lives on Remnant.

We were survivors, but to what do we live for anymore?

Our sufferings didn't end with the war. We all have loved ones who didn't come back. Despite all the sacrifices, our enemies are still out there. Worse, there are already evils sprouting within our borders.

The world is still broken. We are still broken.

So why the fuck did we hold on?

I don't know if anyone will agree. Honestly, I don't care. But I think there is a reason why we never gave up. It wasn't what we'd all love to believe, for the sake of humanity. Nor was it what the government wanted you to believe, to create a better world for the future generation, for the children that one may or may not have.

We didn't go through all the heartbreaks because of a distant future when we couldn't even be sure if there would be a tomorrow. We didn't act out of complete selflessness.

I think we held on, so that eventually, one day, we can let it go.

- Unknown

“A Brief History of Modern Vale”, Chapter 8, Section IV: The Silent War

Introduction

The Silent War was a global war that lasted from Q.A. 80 to 83, characterized by the massive death toll and one of the worst Grimm invasions in recorded history. It was the most extensive conflict in the modern time, spreading to all corners on Remnant. Unlike the Great War (which many historians used as a comparison), all Human and Faunus contributed in the Silent War, including the Nomad tribes, the wanderers beyond the reach of the four kingdoms. It was said the one particular tribe was even involved in the great Battle of the Guardians, however the speculation was neither confirmed or denied by the Warden of the Guardians, Headmaster Oscar Zoroaster Phadrig Isaac Norman.

The Guardians was a secret organization that only came to light after the end of the war, when the public became curious of the identities of those who saved the world. Headmaster Ozpin revealed himself and confirmed the existence of the organization, but refused to publish a list of its members. As such, the true purpose and influence of the Guardians remained a mystery. The refusal flamed debates in all kingdoms, some praising the nameless heroes for their services to humanity, while others actively voiced their concerns about a secret society that may have infiltrated all essential departments in the kingdoms. Despite Headmaster Ozpin’s reassurance that the Guardians’ only sworn enemies are those who would endanger humanity, including the Vindicate, many remained unconvinced.

The Vindicate, according to government official reports, was a group aiming to dominate the world. The origin of the organization was unclear, though historians believed to have found records of the group responsible for causing the war from as early as twenty years before and after the end of the Great War. While details on the objectives and history of the mysterious criminal organization remained a topic to be debated, it was commonly agreed that the group became active about eighteen years before the beginning of the Silent War. The group was not to be confused with the White Fang, a Fauna-based advocate turned terrorists group who were recruited by the Vindicate in their cause.

The war began with the Fall of Beacon in December, Q.A. 80, during the 40th anniversary of the Vytal Festival. The tragic events involving the fake-injury injury of one of the Vindicate operatives and the death of the first artificial girl, Penny, created shockwaves of negativity around the globe. Grimm overwhelmed the defense of Beacon Academy, and with the coordinate attack by the White Fang, befallen the CCT tower at Vale. The leaking footage caused even more panic around the world, which in turn attracted Grimm toward cities and villages.

The death count continued to climb through the first eighteen months before defenses were finally rebuilt. In the Great Retreat (from May to November, Q.A. 81) about 15 millions had died, marking it as the worst seven months of the war and the period with the highest fatality rate. During this time, all four kingdoms had at least half of their territories overrun. In the kingdom of Vale, many attempts were made to regain control of the situation, with the Cobblestone Assault being the first major success and arguably the turning point for the Vale front.

The war concluded at the end of year 83 with the Battle of the Guardians, which took place around the same time as the Grimm Tide that claimed at least 2.5 million lives. By the end of the war, more than 26 millions had died, but humanity had endured. The Silent War altered the political, economical, social, and military structures of the world. The effects can still be seen even to this day, more than twenty years after the victory. Some of the changes included

Fall of Beacon

On December 21, Q.A. 80, the Vindicate breached the security network of Beacon Academy and allegedly manipulated the random matching program to allow its agents to infiltrate the tournaments. It was rumored that the agents, who possessed special Semblance that allowed the user to confuse his or her target, used their abilities to disturb several matches. Under the influence, the two Singles battle during the top eight elimination turned grisly. The gruesome outcomes caused a hotspot of negativity in the academy, further fueled by the message prepared by the terrorists. Shortly after, the patrol for the festival were overrun by Grimm.

Headmaster Ozpin of the Beacon Academy immediately requested assistance from General Ironwood of the Atlas Academy. The general deployed the Atlesian android troops to defend the students and citizens from the assault. However, the White Fang also appeared on the scene, pushing the defense back to the school ground.

Some Hunter trainees participating in the festival joined to assist the effort, but were unsuccessful to defend the school as the Vindicate hijacked one of the Atlesian battleships housing the server that commanded the androids. The Vindicate took over control of the robotic troops, turning them against the trainees and the citizens. The battle ended with the fall of the CCT tower, leading to the Great Blackout that lasted for almost four years.

It was estimated that about 10,000 had died during the initial chaos. Some noticeable figures who had unfortunately lost their lives during the battle included the star pupil of Beacon, Pyrrha Nikos

“A Brief History of Modern Vale”, Chapter 1, Section XI: The Calendar System

Like the other three kingdoms, Vale adopted the Lunisolar Calendar as the official calendar system after the Great War. Although other calendar systems are still commonly used for agricultural, racial celebration, or religious purposes, all public organizations including governments, businesses, and schools are legally bounded to use this system.

Each lunisolar year consists of 364 days, 52 weeks, or 13 months. The names of the months are also unified, starting with March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December, Undecimber, January, and ending in February. Each calendar season is 91 days, or 13 weeks, resulting in the following:

Spring: March 1st to June 7th
Summer: June 8th to September 14th
Autumn: September 15th to December 21st
Winter: December 22nd to February 28th

It should be noted that, the Day of Light is added to each year as a reminder of the ending of the Third Era and the beginning of the current Fourth Era. Officially, no month or weekday name is associated with it, but the fact that the Day of Life comes between February and March has made many associate it as “February 29”. In addition, to account for the solar and lunar cycles, a leap day may be added after the Day of Life, called the Day of Light. Both days are considered national holidays in all four kingdoms.

The history of

“A Brief History of Modern Vale”, Chapter 8, Section IV: The Silent War

Aftermath

The first census conducted after the war produced the result of a world population of roughly 17.83 million, a horrifying decline from the 43.15 million before the war. Similar reduction also happened to each kingdom's’ territory. The border of Vale

Whatever you read from the official records will never come close to the real horrors experienced by the people.

We are the voices unheard, the pain unfelt, and the death unknown. Are you ready to listen to our stories?

Are you ready to listen to the sounds of silence?

Chapter Text

Lieutenant Colonel Dario Seymour was the commander of Battalion 428, home to many distinguished heroes. He retired from the Vale Army two years after the end of the war with an honorable discharge. Now, the Lieutenant Colonel lives with his family in a small house at the new agricultural district.

I guess I should begin? Right.

[He exhaled through his mouth, eyes closed, and murmured something before opening his eyes again and looked straight ahead.]

I was just a captain before the war. There weren't many soldiers around because the government didn't see a point. Maintaining an army is expensive. In the taxpayer's minds, the money would be better spent on stuff like healthcare, education, and other public services.

It's not to say we didn't have soldiers aside from the Huntsmen. The military still had its basic structure, staffed by a small amount of cadets and officers. But most who could and want to fight either became Huntsmen, police officers, or mercenaries.

The Vale army was a painting on the wall, and I was part of the picture.

They say a strong team is like a well-oiled machine. Though the prewar army was not exactly that, we kept it running like a cruising car. All soldiers and officers went through the necessary equipment trainings. We knew how to operate Dust-powered firearms and the outdated technologies from the Great War. But other than that, the most trouble we ever saw was the occasional natural disaster.

Not to mention, why would we ever expected to fight? It was peacetime. Huntsmen were doing a great job defending our borders. The police kept the criminals at bay. There was no reason to be concerned of anything, other than my kids’ tuition and what my wife asks me to pick up from the supermarket.

The night it all began, I was home watching TV with my youngest kids. Allen was nine and Cari was seven. I have sixteen-year-old son too - Tim, my eldest, always locking himself in his room those days.

Sorry. Getting sidetracked there.

Anyway, so I was watching TV with my kids. Still remember what it was. Game Night, you know, that show where they invite random people to compete against each other in teams. Brainless entertainment. Just what you need after a day of work.

[He chuckled, then quieted.]

I must have dozed off at some point. One moment the host was yelling dramatically into his mic, and then the next, it was all just static. Allen complained and smashed the buttons on the remote. I took it out of his hand before he broke it and tried to fix it. Nothing.

My kids complained louder. My head felt like a block of stone. I groaned and got up to check the TV and the wires. They all looked fine.

I was searching for my Scroll to call the cable company when Tim ran out of his room. All pale and shaking.

Now you gotta understand, Tim’s an athletic kid. Confident, even a little foolhardy at time. He spent the whole summer working out and tanning himself. To impress some girls, probably. But that night, he was hysteric. He was babbling on and on, and all I got was something about some girl being mutilated and about Grimm.

Whatever drowsiness I had was gone when he mentioned Grimm. I grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him hard, trying to calm him down. You don’t just joke about that kind of stuff, you know? I asked him if he’d been watching those horror movies again, but he shook his head and started bawling.

That’s the first time I ever saw him like that. He was crying in earnest, just like when he was little and scraped his knees raw. He kept talking, but I couldn’t understand a single word he said.

Still, something ticked me off. I don’t know what exactly, father’s intuition or soldier’s instinct, maybe?

I told my wife and kids to pack up, lock all the doors and windows… and I’m glad I did. You hear stories about what happened to some of the folks living near the black trail left by the Dragon. Stuff from nightmares.

[He sighed and rubbed his face.]

I told them to stay home. The plan was, I’d go to the base and figure out what’s going on, then I’d come back for them.

I didn’t want to leave them, of course, but it’s not like I had a choice. The Scroll wasn’t working. The TV’s busted. And it’s painfully obvious now that the problems ain’t gonna fix themselves. So I raced down to the garage, hopped into my car, and drove. Not to the cable company. I drove to the base where I worked.

The night was calm. The roads were clear, not yet blocked by congestion of people fleeing from the city. It was just like any other night, but I felt nervous driving down the street.

Looking back, I remember a constant static following me, even though I didn’t turn on the radio. Maybe it’s just my mind playing tricks on me. Wouldn’t be the first time. Won’t be the last either.

When I got to the base, everything still looked somewhat normal. Except the cars, and the crowd that already gathered inside. Everyone had that same uneasy and unsure expression. There was a large pile of luggage at the corner of the room, too many to be just for the personnels. It upset me.

I went over to the crowd gathered around the TV. Some of them were arguing.

Someone said, “But what if the Atlesian military are trying an invasion?”

Someone shouted back, “Why would they do that? Besides, you know how those people feel about Faunus. They can’t possibly be working with the White Fang!”

Now that’s another phrase you don’t mention without good reason. So I cleared my throat to get people’s attention. Only then did I notice the TV behind them, buzzing with static as well. My heart sank. Whatever’s happening was happening everywhere.

They gave me a quick account of what they saw - or rather, what they thought they saw. My heart beat faster and faster with each word they spoke. It was peacetime. What they said happened to Beacon made no sense, because it would imply a war, and why would we get a war in peacetime?

Scrolls, TV, radio. None of them were working. We didn’t know what’s happening. Not until the guard on watch ran in and informed us that a large Grimm had occupied the Beacon Tower.

That was how we learned the collapse of the CCT system. There’s panic immediately. I had to shout quite a few times for everyone to calm down. I ordered a team to investigate the CCT situation, and another team to contact the command center with our backup.

[“Backup?”]

As I mentioned before, we had legacy equipment from before the Great War. That included communication gears. Few actually knew how to work them, since the CCT was so useful and all, but they were there.

I had a small hope that the guard had made a mistake, that it was just some glitch that would soon be resolved. I tried to be enthusiastic about it. It helped the guys a little, I think.

It’s funny. Nobody truly believed this was all just a big misunderstanding. Anyone with half a brain could see this was just the beginning of a nightmare. Things were only going to get worse. Still, people chose to hold onto false hope. We seemed to have a tendency in believing in something nonexistent, so long as it’s what we want to hear.

Anyway… half an hour later, the radio operator came back with a telegram in his hand. His pale face and trembling fingers told us we were in deep trouble. The only question was this: who’s the enemy?

We had no answer. The only thing we knew was that we were at war and that Grimm were invading the city. The government was expecting the worst, so we must “act quickly”, whatever that meant.

After the operator read the whole telegram out, the room fell silent. I looked around the room and asked if there’s a more senior officer. There was none. I had to take over command.

There was no time to lose. People were dying out there… The officer training kicked in and I went on autopilot. I don’t even remember what I told others to do. Everything was a blur.

But then something happened. I saw a kid sitting on the pile of luggage at the corner, with her knees pulled up to her chest and her face buried in her knees.

Kids.

My kids.

I remembered hearing the voice in my head. My family. They didn’t know what’s happening. They were still waiting for me to come home.

I had to get them out of there. I started panicking. But I couldn’t just leave. I was the commanding officer, people were relying on me for instructions. It’s both protocol and just something you know you have to do. Besides, if I’d gone ahead to retrieve my family, who’s to say others wouldn’t do the same? Then, the whole base would just spiral into chaos, and there would be no one to carry out our duties.

So I didn’t go. I grabbed one of the junior officer passing by and shoved the keys into his palms. He knew where I lived. We used to hang out once every couple weeks and drink. He looked up at me, surprised.

“Get my family.” I told him.

He looked down to his hands. I saw his hesitation, so I added. “And get yours too.”

He looked stunned, like I just reminded him that his family was still out there too. He nodded and slipped out the back door.

[“Did your family make it?”]

Yes, though I later realized it wasn’t necessary. We were in the safe zone. But you could never know in a situation like that…

[“What do you mean?”]

Many people thought they were safe where they were, but they never accounted for the refugees running away from the Grimm. Some of the areas were overrun not because they were indefensible. It was precisely because they were close to people’s idea of a “safe place”. Those seeking shelters also brought the Grimm with them. Those places either ran short of supplies, or became overwhelmed by the Grimm that followed the crowds.

It was complete madness. In the beginning everybody was just confused and upset about what happened. Back then most people still believed the government would soon solve everything. The illusion didn’t hold for long, though. Soon words got out that it would be nearly impossible to rebuild the CCT by ourselves, and worse, there were more and more Grimm.

[“How did the government respond?”]

You know how. [He laughed bitterly.] “We must be careful who we trust!” That idiot of a Defense Minister said. “We must not rule out the possibility that Atlas had declared war on us!” And they kicked the Atlesian army out.

Okay, fine. The concern was justified. I mean, people did start questioning Atlas’ involvement after seeing the footage. But the Ministry of Defense took it one notch higher. They were so afraid that there would be spies from other kingdoms, that they refused any of the Huntsmen trainees to volunteer for the army. They even put all the Huntsmen on street patrol duty.

“We need soldiers loyal to the kingdom.” They said. “We cannot risk fighting enemies both inside and out. We cannot allow the free-roaming Huntsmen to meddle in our operations.”

If that’s not idiocracy, I don’t know what is. We’ve got Grimm knocking on our door and you are worried that the most honorable warriors, the only people trained to face those threats, were going to play espionage with you? Come on!

You know what I think? It’s not because they’re seriously worried about spies. They were jealous of the Huntsmen taking all the credits for defending the cities and saving lives while the government was blamed and shunned. They wanted to regain public confidence and take back the spotlight. They needed something to show the people that they were in control.

Bunch of idiots. They didn’t even know what the hell they were up against! If they did, they would know it’s a horrible idea to exclude Hunters and Huntresses. If their noses weren’t stuck so deep in their ass, maybe things wouldn’t have gone so terribly wrong.

[“You mean the Assault of Beacon.”]

Yeah. The situation wasn’t getting any better. People weren't happy with the whole CCT problem. And they rallied behind the discriminated Huntsmen.

The government needed a victory to regain support, so they came up with a single operation that would supposedly solve all the issues. By sending non-Hunter troops to take back Beacon, they would be able to, one: show that the government was in control, two: show that Hunters weren't needed so as to justify the discriminatory policy, and three: to fix the CCT if that's even possible.

About one month after the Fall of Beacon, we got a call from the command center telling us to put up recruitment ads. Like I said, we had no troops during peacetime, only a skeleton crew to keep up the image that the military even existed. Now it’s war, and we needed soldiers to fight the battles.

The government had the authority to mobilize the whole country if they so desired. They chose not to. It was part of the plan to appear as if everything was under control. They wanted the citizens to enlist, but they wanted them to do it voluntarily, like they only needed to fight if they wanted to. We had guys driving around the blocks and yelling over the loudspeaker, “Enlist and be a hero! Citizens of Vale, help those in greater need. Enlist and be the hero!” Something stupid like that.

Don’t get me wrong. I actually think it’s a good idea to pretend to be in control. After all, it’s the panic and fear that drew the Grimm to Beacon. It made sense to keep the public calm.

But what I could never, ever forgive them was the no-trainee policy. It made no sense to me.

[“But what about certified Huntsmen?”]

The certified Hunters didn’t need to be in the army to get things done. Any single one of them was enough to do what a company of troop can do. They also didn’t need to be “allowed” to kill Grimm.

At that time, they were helping the city getting back on its feet, or they were out defending villages that could not protect themselves. There weren’t that many around in Vale. Most of them already had too much on their plate.

But the trainees were a different story.

They were younger, less experienced, and most of them needed someone else to lead. I’m not saying there weren’t capable leaders, but when you’re talking about retaking lost territory, defending a city, or any large scale operation, experience matters. And I don’t think Beacon exactly taught them how to deal with thousands of Grimm with just four people. Still, a team of Hunter trainees were worth at least a hundred soldiers.

The first trainees I met was team CFVY. It was the day after the army started their propaganda to recruit citizens. The day was slow, and none of us expected anyone to show up. I remember sitting at my desk smoking when they pushed the door open and walked in.

You could tell right away that they were Hunter trainees. It’s not because of the weapons they carried. It’s the undeterred conviction.

Ms. Adel looked around the room, and locked eyes with me. She walked up, took her sunglasses off, and just asked, “Where do we sign up?”

I remember others in the office cheering and clapping. “Finally!” Someone said. “Thank Monty above! Hunters!” Someone else said. Ms. Scarlatina timidly corrected whoever said it, “We are still students.” But nobody cared. We were all just so glad for them to be there.

At that time, I didn’t know about the no-trainee policy. I fumbled around my drawers for the papers. My hands shook with excitement.

When I finally found the paper and pushed it in front of Ms. Adel, a hand came slamming down.

I was caught between my own confusion and fury when I shot up, ready to yell at whoever it was that had been so rude. I froze. It was Lieutenant Lawrence. My superior officer.

“How old are you four?” The lieutenant didn’t even look at me. His jaw was set and his lips pressed in a thin line.

“Eighteen.” Ms. Adel answered, but her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked squarely at the lieutenant. “Once we fill out the form, you can read whatever else you want to know.”

The lieutenant ignored her and looked at her teammates. I was getting nervous at that point. I didn’t understand why the lieutenant looked so stiff. Something felt wrong. I was afraid of what he might say after.

“I am sorry.” The lieutenant straightened his back, probably trying to look tougher or something. “But you can’t enlist.”

“And why would that be?” Ms. Adel frowned. You could hear her getting worked up by the refusal, but she was doing a damn good job at keeping her head leveled. That one’s always been one of my favourites.

“It’s not personal, just policy. We are not allowed to take trainees as recruit, besides...”

The lieutenant cast a glance at Ms. Scarlatina.

Ms. Adel followed his glance and I witnessed the subtle transition from annoyance, to confusion, to realization, and finally to rage. I saw the cold, hard fury that took over her calm demeanor like a storm. She snapped her head back so fast with burning eyes. I’m not ashamed to say I was afraid. It was scary.

But before Ms. Adel could do or say anything to the lieutenant, Ms. Scarlatina ran up and held her from behind. She whispered with shaky voice. “Please, Coco, let’s just go. Please.”

Ms. Adel looked at me, like she knew I was the only one who might convince the lieutenant otherwise.

I should have punched the lieutenant for them and let them enlist regardless of the order, but instead I lowered my head, and kept my silence as they walked away.

At that time I had no idea about the promotion few months later. I didn’t know I would find their names in the list of soldiers who would work under me.

It would be the first time I worked with Huntsmen, and the first of the many days to come where I kicked myself for not insisting to Lieutenant Lawrence to ignore regulations.

[“That’s after the Assault of Beacon?”]

Right. I’m getting ahead of myself.

Well, we spent about one month recruiting soldiers and two months training them. During that time, they gathered all the commanding officers, anyone with a rank above Lieutenant Colonel, for strategy meeting. The plan was to drop battalions at four points around the courtyard, and push our way to the main building. Once we secured the CCT and the halls, they’d bring out some kind of secret weapons to deal with the dragon.

But of course it wasn’t that simple. We didn’t even reach the front door when our offense came to a complete halt. There were just too many Grimm. They didn’t just come from ahead of us, there were some that closed in from the side.

We were stuck in that circular shaped pavement where the school emblem was. People kept backing up until our backs pressed against one another. The commander knew it was hopeless, and yelled for us to fall back to the dock. Airships were already picking up those who ran fast enough. The rest of us kept firing our weapons and retreated as fast as we could.

Some people tripped. Some walked too slow. The Grimm cut through the line, and there were about two hundred people who got separated from the main troop. They were forced into a circle that became smaller and smaller with each scream.

Blood flooded the pavement. It almost looked like the Grimm was riding on a red wave. The corpses of the fallen disappeared under them. No matter how many bullets we fired, they didn’t even slow down.

I don’t know when exactly people started running, but soon the whole defense collapsed. They told us it wasn’t more than half an hour since the assault began, but it felt like fucking hours. People were shouting, shoving each other out of their way, and shooting at anything that moved. A lot of the soldiers went down because they got injured by the stray bullets, many were shoved right into the waiting jaws and claws of the Grimm.

They chased us all the way to the docks. Many pilots risked their own lives to get as many people out of there as possible, but not all of them. When my ship left the ground, I looked back and saw small shapes dropping over the cliff.

I thought they were rocks. It took me several seconds to realize they were people jumping over.

More than four-thousand soldiers went into battle that day, less than a thousand came back. Half of the people in my base didn’t make it. I heard some units got it way worse. At least three of the companies got wiped out. But you can’t compare the loss of life like that. Not really.

It was a massacre. There’s no other way to describe it. We weren’t threats to the Grimm. We were dinner. But what do you expect? We weren’t trained to fight those monsters. Most of the soldiers there were fresh recruits who only learned how to shoot two months ago. They weren’t prepared for the hell we faced that day. I know I wasn’t.

That battle still gives me nightmares. I can never forget the blood and the screams. God the screams… I still hear them sometimes. All those poor souls calling out to us.

[He paused and looked down to his hands for several minutes. When he spoke again, his voice was low and raspy.]

Anyway… After that, it became clear that we needed Huntsmen to have any chance to survive.

There was a major shift of power within the military. The pro-Hunter officers got pushed to higher positions. But there were still plenty who didn’t like it and were looking for ways to suppress the Hunters, such as General Harris Whitehurst.

There were also a lot of internal changes. Most of the units only had a third of the people they used to, so the HR merged a bunch of us and fed some of us new recruits.

I got promoted to Lieutenant Colonel about two weeks after the assault, and was told I’d be handling Battalion 428. It was one of those battalion that lost their commanding officer, and they threw in bunch of units from all over the place. When they finished congratulating me for my raise, they asked if I’d like to include Huntsmen trainees in my crew.

“Hell yeah,” I said. “And you better make sure there are at least five teams. I ain’t gonna settle for anything less.”

I ended up getting fifty two of them. Can’t tell you how happy I was when I learned that. I greeted each of them personally and made sure to listen to every damn word they said about fighting Grimm. Some said I was overreacting, but you know what? They are the expert, and I’d “overreact” any day if it means those serving in my battalion got to come home.

Most of the seven hundred soldiers in my battalion made it through the war alive. I’m convinced it’s because we took the words of our specialists seriously.

Ah… I can still remember the names and faces of all of the trainees in my unit. They were all good kids. Honest and honorable people. Some were younger than Tim, but they were all wiser and braver. It still makes me want to cry sometimes just thinking about what those kids lost in this war, but it also makes me incredibly proud to see them growing into fine young men and women.

I’m sure you’ve heard of most of their names. They are all heroes… There’s one though, that people still have trouble believing was serving under me . [He grinned.]  Oh yes, Ms. Yang Xiao Long.

Remember what I said about Huntsmen being special and all? Well, Huntress Xiao Long is more than special. I know folks make up stories for our wartime heroes, but whenever I hear seemingly absurd tales about that kid, like she rescued fifty people from an exploding airship or she carried a school bus full of frightened children through an infested district, the only thing I’d think to myself was, “Huh, I should ask her if it’s true.”

[He sighed again.] If only the army didn’t put up that stupid restriction. Could you imagine what it might be like? Had there been Huntsmen or trainees fighting by our side during the Assault, maybe we wouldn’t have lost so many people.

Who knows? If there were Huntsmen with us that day, maybe there would have been hope. Maybe we could have taken back Beacon.

Chapter Text

Before the war, Marjorie Rivera taught science at the Atlas Junior High for Young Nobles, at the city of Flur. After the breach of the southern defenses, the government ordered all citizens at Flur to evacuate. Her family was among the last wave of refugees to retreat to the safe zone. After the war, Marjorie had resumed to her teaching career. She gave me a tour around the school. Each room was decorated by various models of weapons, survival gears, and other kinds of equipment.

The Great Retreat at Atlas started later than the rest of the world, thanks to the winter storm. The biting cold froze any enemy that dared to venture too far north. I never imagined I would come to appreciate the harsh climate one day.

Like the rest of the world, we witnessed the tragedy in the kingdom of Vale from the broadcast. After the CCT went offline, travelers brought the latest news to share with us in exchange of meals and drinks. Gossips spread that Vale was in disarray, that the shadow of our enemies creeped closer to us every night.

The first unmistakable sign of a global debacle was the disturbances in Vacuo and Mistral. News of Grimm invasion in the two kingdoms replaced stories of riots and racial disputes at Vale. People grew concerned and restless, but for laughable things.

“Have you heard about the new trade regulation?” The nobles would caution one another. “Or the curfew at such and such city? They are bad for business. My husband is considering about pulling the funds.”

Occasionally, they mourned for the lives lost in a recent attack, of the destroyed properties, or the diminishing resources. The conversations always ended with someone saying, “What a dreadful affair! I sure hope they get back on their feet soon.”

They - no, we , we talked about those events like bystanders. Like the events had no effects on us. We pretended to be sympathetic to others’ tragedies, never once realizing the same fate would be upon us soon.

Some would claim we had good reasons not to panic. The government assured us that the army would protect us with its formidable firepower and sophisticated technology that no other kingdom could rival. Atlas would remain strong in the storm. And we believed it, just like how we believed our robot troops did not cause the fall of Beacon Academy and the death of hundreds of civilians.

“It can’t be real.” Someone would insist when others brought up the subject. “Those can’t be our troops. They must be prototypes stolen by those savage Faunus!”

Others would murmur solemnly in agreement. They would sing praises to the motherland and the leadership before spotting some poor Faunus worker in the vicinity and proceeded to harass them. All in the name of patriotism.

It was wrong. It was madness. Some attempted to defuse the situation and stand up for the innocent workers, most of them foreigners or other Faunus. They tried reasoning with the brutes, condemning the injustice, only to be branded traitors and receive a piece of the “punishment” as well. The frenzy of majority overwhelmed the reasons of the minority, until they became silent.

Discrimination developed to violence. Public humiliation and physical assault became a daily occurrence everywhere you go. Occasionally, you would see a Faunus being dragged to the back alley, screaming and begging for mercy. They were never seen again.

Sometimes I wonder if it was the hatred and racism that attracted the Grimm toward our kingdom. Sometimes I think it’s retribution. Not only to those who actively tormented the Faunus, but also those too scared to stand up for what’s right.

[She paused and looked out of the window, to the children and teenagers playing outside. One of them, a wolf Faunus boy, noticed and waved at us. She smiled and waved back.]

I’m glad to say our society became better. The corrupted value still exists, but no longer plagues this nation and the younger generation. We made mistakes, learned from them, and taught our children the fair and just way more fitting for our society.

When the Grimm first overwhelmed the southern defense, public opinions turned against the government. I remember talking to one of the parents from a noble family - not naming names - who scoffed at the defeat. They complained about the “slackers in the army wasting tax money” and the “irresponsible government not apprehending the animals running amok in our kingdom”.

I nodded and smiled and waited for them to finish, and walked away. I’m ashamed to say I never once rebuked their statements. Though, I doubt anything I said or did would change their opinions.

The high society didn’t understand. Their wealth and protected lives isolated many of them from the sufferings of the world and set them in a certain mindset. Their parents taught them to view the world from the top of their empires, always looking at “the bigger picture”. It became impossible for most of them to comprehend the hardship and struggles of those lower than themselves. They were not necessarily heartless, evil monsters. It’s just… it never occurred to them to look at the world differently.

I would be a hypocrite to fault them, because I myself was ignorant to the sufferings endured by those worse off. Just like the nobles, the middle class didn’t realize the approaching disaster until it broke down our doors.

The workers were the only ones to sense the danger. Farmers at the south states either fled north into the protection of the nevermelting snowland, or dug trenches and fortified the estate as early as possible. If you check the newspaper during that time, you might find small columns reporting the “strikes”. Except it wasn’t a strike, it was people preparing to fight for survival.

[“But some of the stories from southern Atlas suggested the Grimm appeared out of nowhere. Are they made up?”]

No. Those things truly happened, but I suspect they are not complete.

Taken into consideration that most of the workers abandoned their jobs to seek shelter and safety, the landlord must have hired replacements. I believe the stories came from the replacement workers who survived the ambush and invasion.

One of my students worked for a landlord at the south before the war began. She remembered a friend of her father arguing with the landlord, saying it’s dangerous to stay. The landlord scoffed and fired him on the spot.

I’m not surprised if the same thing happened to other fallen farmlands. The workers at Flur migrated further North during the early stage as well. People laughed at their concerns, calling them cowards. Some even went as far as saying our kingdom would be better off without them. The sheer ignorance and arrogance still disgust me.

When the second layer of defense fell, some of the government officials became uneasy. General Ironwood launched a recruitment program for all sorts of base-level workers. Cooks, farmers, smiths, mechanics, technicians, operators, and so on.

Some said he did it to put all the unemployed back to work while others praised his foresight. Whatever the reason, it worked in the kingdom’s favor. The program arguably saved Atlas.

Had the military not began training those staff, and stocking up raw materials, we wouldn’t have the strength to push back. And had the defense been unsuccessful, public opinion of our base-layer workers would not have changed so readily.

Thinking back, the change of opinions likely began there. General Ironwood valued those workers and treated them with respect. To those who had been abused all their lives, the understanding came both as a surprise and a blessing. They might not have sworn their loyalty to the General, but they appreciated him enough to not cause much trouble. If you look into the records, you would see fewer Faunus rebellion against the government compared to everywhere else.

In the war, we realized our “profession” and “expertise” meant much less than we thought. Those executives, accountants, and businessmen suddenly found themselves learning from their servants and butlers, even working under them. We came to appreciate the true values within each other, looking past the traditional elitism.

In the ashes we rebuilt this broken kingdom to be a greater place. A stronghold that stood tall and proud. Our values finally advanced to match our technological marvel. Wasn’t it ironic that we progressed not during an era of peace and prosperity, but amidst war and tragedy?

[She fell silent and looked out of the window again.]

As with all things, there is a bright side, and a dark one. The war changed us all. The extraordinary circumstance drove people to attempt things previously unimaginable. Some of them heartwarming, some of them horrible.

No one can in their good conscience say they hadn’t done something they regretted in the past. Many committed unspeakable crimes in order to survive. I will continue bearing the shame and guilt into my grave. They are things I wish I can forget, thing I wish I can take back.

My husband, Luca, taught physical education in the same school. He’s a strong and handsome man in his late thirties when the war broke out. Students adored him for his prowess in all sports known to Human and Faunus. Fencing, soccer, swimming, skiing, skateboarding, basketball… he was expert to them all. I imagine the activities kept him young in spirit.

We had two sons, Gustaf and Benjamin. Gus was just like his father, and Ben was quiet and artistic. They were both no older than fifteen at that time.

Our neighbor, the Gerstle’s, was a family of three. The husband Kolman and the wife Saskia both worked at an orphanage before the war started. Their little girl Anelie was in the same grade as Ben.

When the Grimm breached our third layer of defense, the government decided to evacuate all cities south of the safe zone. The Gerstle and our family volunteered to stay behind and ensure all children were safely evacuated. We thought about sending our children to join the main group, but both Luca and Kolman insisted they would be safer with us.

Perhaps we should have forced them go. I’m honestly not sure. Many with a bigger group still died in the march, some failed to keep up, some became ill from the cold, and some froze in their sleep.

The last group of evacuees set out about two and half weeks after the breach. Few days later a snow storm caught us by surprise, and the Gerstle and we got separated from the main group.

We spent a few days trying to find them. When it became clear they had either moved on or died in the storm, we decided to follow the original plan. The delay cost us precious supplies, and we couldn’t afford losing more time.

Unfortunately, Anelie got sick not long after. We gave her all the cold medicines and nutrient pills to keep her strong, but her condition barely improved as our supply stash grew lighter.

Because of the evacuation, only a handful still remained in the area. We tried trading for more medicines and pills, but there were others sick from the cold and damp snow. We realized moving forward was our only chance of survival after an incident where Luca and Kolman caught one straggler sneaking into our camp.

The further north we went, the worse Anelie’s condition became. Luca and I kept our boys close, forbidding them to visit her. Ben was close to her. They practically grew up together, but he never got the chance to say goodbye to her, before and after she passed.

Kolman and Saskia sunk into depression. We wanted to comfort them, but other concerns kept us away. I know it’s awful to think like this, but we were afraid that they caught the flu as well and would pass it to our children.

Our fear must have shown. Kolman became more aggressive, and Saskia lost her will to fight. The vicious cycle continued, and Luca and I started talking about leaving.

Of course, we never mentioned the idea to the Gerstle, not even to Gus or Ben. We couldn’t make up our mind, and even if we did, we decided to bear the hatred and the guilt of abandonment alone.

One night, when Luca and I were having another discussion about whether we should leave, Kolman bursted into our tent. He looked disheveled and reeked of alcohol. Something must have happened before he charged in. His eyes were that of a madman, and instantly we knew he heard us.

He jumped onto Luca, screaming at us for betraying them, for letting Anelie die, and for hundred other things. In between his angry shouts we learned that Saskia had committed suicide. I don’t know if she did it with the gun Kolman was waving. It didn’t matter. That next thing I knew, Luca and Kolman wrestled each other to the ground, and Gus and Ben ran inside our tent.

I dove to cover the boys, dragging them to the back of the tent and hiding the fight from their views. Gus struggled against me to help his father, and Ben sobbed into my shirt.

And then…

[She opened and closed her mouth several times, but no words came.]

I’m sorry, but I’d appreciate it if you allow me to skip the specifics.

A lot of what happened still felt confusing, like flashes and blurs. I think it’s my mind’s way of trying to deal with the traumatic events in the past.

Anyhow, the struggle came to an abrupt end with a loud bang. I dared to turn and look at the two men. Kolman lied on the ground, unmoving. Luca stood in the middle of the room. He looked like he’s going to get sick.

Before we recovered from the shock of the… argument, noises emerged from outside. Luca turned from green to deathly pale in an instant. “Bandits,” he murmured the word. His right hand held the pistol so tight his knuckles turned white.

The bandits might have been following us, or we were just unfortunate to be arguing when they were nearby. Regardless of the reason, they were there.

Luca checked the cartridge before looking back at me. We both knew what to do.

I turned and grabbed Gus and Ben. They tried to get free, but I somehow overpowered them and yanked them out from the back of the tent. Luca started shouting to the bandits outside, and they shouted back, promising they wouldn’t hurt us if we just come out and give them our supplies. Ha, right.

We were out long enough to hear stories of bandits murdering travelers and looting their luggages, raiding camps in the middle of the night, using women and children to bait other travelers before raping and slaughtering them. They cannot be trusted.

I whispered to Gus and Ben to keep quiet and just run. They opened their mouth to argue. Someone’s gun went off. I dragged my children and ran.

We never saw Luca again.

[“What did you do after?”]

Fortunately we remembered to grab our bags on the way out. Force of habit when it was the apocalypse and you were constantly moving. We still have the majority of our remaining supplies and gears.

The worst thing was losing track of our location. It took us about a week before we finally found the road again. By then our stash of food was almost empty. We were tired and hungry and weak.

But what choice did we have? We needed to keep moving.

The further we went the colder it became. Some areas were constantly frozen. The low temperature stopped the Grimm from advancing, but it also weakened the evacuees. Many died in the unforgiving frigidness.

When you become used to the warmth of your bed, the freshness of your food, and all the conveniences in your life, you start taking them for granted. You forget the fact they exist because someone else worked hard to supply you with them. You stop appreciating the comfort they bring. Only when you are shivering in the cold dark night, when fear and hunger become your sole companies, do you remember this truth.

Ben became ill from the cold and malnutrition. We had to move less. I told Gus to look after his younger brother while I went out scouting ahead and search for food and shelter. We were all getting weaker by the day. Things became desperate, and I had to make a choice.

[“What happened?”]

…Many things.

We were north enough to see people again, so I started stealing from other travelers. Food, medicines, clothes and occasionally gears.

Sometimes I would find dead bodies in the snow. Usually they were stripped clean by those who left them behind, but occasionally I would find their survival kits and other valuables. There were rarely what I needed - food and medicine, but I took what I could find.

A few times I even… even considered cannibalism, tricking Gus and Ben into thinking it was some sort of animal meat that I obtained through hunting or trading. But I couldn’t do it. We all gave up some of our humanities to survive, but there’s a boundary. Those who crossed the line either went mad with guilt, or turned into monsters who could no longer tell right from wrong.

Then an idea came to my mind. A whisper from the devil. Sure, I couldn’t live with myself for feeding my children human flesh, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t utilize them to their fullest. I had something to trade with the bigger groups.

[She became silent and looked away. Tears rolled down her face, but her voice was still calm.]

…am I sorry for what happened to all the others? Yes, I do.

But do I regret the horrible crimes I have committed? …you see, that’s the worst part about all that happened. I do, and I don’t. I would do it all over again, because in the end, my family would be safe.

[“That’s a heavy burden.”]

I suppose.

The day we passed into the safe zone and reached our destination was the happiest I felt since the war began. “We are safe!” I thought to myself. “Everything will be okay now.”

The happiness was short-lived. The city became overpopulated weeks ago. They needed to stop taking in more refugees. It explained why I still saw camps and communities out in the wild, but my desperate mind refused to accept the possibility then.

The guards were apologetic but stern in the order, despite seeing Ben’s condition. We had to leave. They dropped us a bag of supplies before pointing their guns at us, the threat clear as day.

We came upon more cities like that. Everywhere we turned to was another door shut in our face. Stealing from other groups was no longer an option. The further north we got, the bigger and more guarded they became.

[“Why didn’t you try joining one of them?”]

I did, but you must understand, in the end everyone was running short of supplies. Nobody wanted to feed even one extra mouth, let alone three.

I begged with some of them, promising my boys and myself as hardworking labors. I tried to convince anyone who would listen that we possessed skilled and talents they could use. I even offered my body. Still, they all refused. When you are struggling to live, you learn what’s really important.

As days went by, Ben got even worse. We were hanging by a thin thread, and I didn’t think we would make it.

I remembered the day everything changed. We were near the city of Himmel. I left Ben in Gus’ care to search food and a better shelter. It was near hopeless. Himmel was still at least a day and half away, but my son was dying. I had to do something, or die trying.

I stumbled upon the SDC warehouse by sheer luck. The snowstorm limited my visual range to no more than ten feet. The light from the watchtower caught my attention, and I hurried towards it.

I didn’t see who the property belonged to at first, but I knew it would be guarded. A place like that meant supplies or shelter, something you had to fight to keep. Trespassing would mean an automatic death sentence by law. The kingdom passed that legislation not long after they realized people were trying to steal from one another. Not that many obeyed when death was licking at their heels anyway.

I didn’t get very far when two guards caught me. Their white uniforms acted like camouflage in the blizzard.

“Well, at least they are not bandits.” I thought. Bandits didn’t have the resources to make uniform. That was a relief, knowing the death would be swift and my corpse would not be mutilated.

It felt like the end, but I had to keep fighting. My sons would die out here by themselves.

I begged with the guards. They needed not to spare me, but please show mercy to my children. The guards looked hesitant and exchanged a glance. I tried harder, pleading with them to take my sons in and put them to work if that’s what it takes to have them clothed and fed. They looked back at me with pity and shook their heads.

They didn’t have the authority to allow such thing. I understood. It was my punishment. I broke down in the snow with my face buried in my hands. What’s the point of getting up, anyway? I’m about to die, and my boys would starve or freeze to death, too. There was no hope. There was nothing any of us could do.

Just when I gave up hope, the Gods granted me a miracle.

I didn’t realize someone had walked up to us, too busy drowning in my misery. A gentle hand touched my shoulder. I nearly jumped to my feet in surprise. For a split second I thought it was the guards, ready to take me to a more reclusive area for the execution.

It wasn’t the guard. It was the young heiress of the Schnee Dust Company. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

She instructed the guards to usher me inside and fetch me food and clothes. They obliged happily. While they were gone, Ms. Schnee asked me where my boys were so that she may send someone to bring them back.

The sudden kindness was too much for my mind. Death had me in its grip a second ago, and the next the most powerful noble in Atlas welcomed me in her property with open arms? Impossible. Why, it must be a trick to having all of us killed. So I refused.

How foolish of me. Had Ms. Schnee really meant ill to my family, all she had to do was let the guards put a bullet in my head. My boys wouldn’t survive out there for long on their own.

Any other nobles would be outraged by my disobedience and disrespect, but Ms. Schnee simply knelt besides me and took my hands.

“What if I accompany you to find your sons?” She spoke patiently. “Would that ease your mind? I promise with the Schnee name that I mean only to offer you help.”

The sincerity in her voice touched me deeply, and I lowered my head in shame for doubting her intention.

The guards returned with a blanket and some soup in a container. Ms. Schnee took them and told the guards she would be accompanying me to find my sons. The guards protested severely, but Ms. Schnee was adamant. I suggested the guards to come along, and so we set out.

I led them back to the small tent. Gus shot up in alert when he noticed the strangers. I embraced him and told him everything was going to be okay, though I secretly still couldn’t quite believe it either.

Ms. Schnee knelt again, next to Ben, and offered the blanket and soup to him. Ben smiled back shyly. I started crying again, and so did Gus.

Ms. Schnee kept her promise. She brought us back to the warehouse and instructed the guards to prepare everything we need. Over the meal, I shared my stories with Ms. Schnee while my boys chatted with the guards. I told her everything I could remember, even confessed my crimes. She turned thoughtful.

Before she left the next day to attend other business, she wished us the best and emphasized that we were welcome to stay or to be dropped off at any city in Atlas. It was at that moment I decided I would do everything in my power to repay this debt.

My boys joined the guards, and I volunteered as a concierge for the warehouse, cooking and caring for all the workers there. I rarely see Ms. Schnee after that, but every time we met, she greeted me with the same kindness. She continued to support my family. It was thanks to her that I obtained this teaching position.

I’m not the only person in debt to Ms. Schnee. Soon after our encounter, I heard from others that Ms. Schnee had donated half of her personal wealth to the refugees. SDC took on cases after cases of public infrastructure projects to install shelters.

It was Ms. Schnee who changed the public opinion on Faunus, despite the various assassination attempts on her family and herself. It was she who opened the eyes of other Atlesian nobles and convinced them to step out of their comfortable mansions and help those suffering.

I’d like to believe that other nobles followed her examples simply because they too were touched by her generosity. The truth was, many only did it to avoid having their houses raided by the angry crowds. Some despised her for dragging them in the mud, others were eager to divide her empire once it collapses. Many of them cared not the death of hundreds of thousands of civilians. They focused solely on their little political agenda.

Everyone knew to some extent the power struggle of the ambitious houses against the Schnee throughout the war. Some of them still creep in the shadow, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. There are people who accepted Ms. Schnee’s generosity, but turned to bite the hand that fed them at the first opportunity.

They are the monsters.

Ms. Weiss Schnee, bless her soul, is one of the true heroes of Atlas. People called her a ruthless and heartless Ice Queen, but those claims simply aren’t true. Ms. Schnee is a gentle and caring individual. She has continued supporting our kingdom and cared for all its citizens.

Although it was the food and shelter many years ago which saved my life, it is that simple, genuine smile in that dark winter night that still gives me hope.

Chapter Text

 The following entries were taken from the personal journal of Tan Ryers, leader of team TSCN (read as Tuscan) from Shade Academy. Other members of TSCN included Saffron Alastair, Copper Horace, and Navi Kelemen. Although not part of the exchange students representing their schools during the Vytal Festival, they were among the first trainees to volunteer in the Vacuon defense force in preparation of the Grimm assault.

April 23, Q.A. 81

We passed the training with team ATIB. They’ll probably ship us to the front line soon. I can’t say I’m looking forward to the fights, but this is what we signed up for. Right?

[Team ATIB, pronounced astilbe, was the sister team of team TSCN. The team was composed of Braz Turchi, Isab Wetzel, Taupher Roberts, and led by Aryl Durand.]

May 13, Q.A. 81

Phew. Finally a moment of peace and quiet. Ever since they revealed the big plan last week everything’s just going crazy fast.

They assembled all the Nemi [The nickname given to the Hunter and Huntress in trainings. Used mainly in the Vacuon army.] to the atrium with a big box at the front. They told us leaders to grab one piece of paper from it and report to the desk on the side. Mine read “site B”, and Aryl’s “site A”.

Commander Loritz announced solemnly that the piece of paper wrote the location in which we would be sent to during the evacuation. Site A means Elisio, and site B means El Ocaso.

Figured as much. Aryl and I sort of looked at each other and tried not to laugh at how dramatic they were making this. I mean, it would be easier to decide for us and just send us on our way, wouldn’t it? All the time we wasted drawing those papers and registering could have been used to pack our stuff and get moving. I know Vacuo value freedom greatly, but this just feels a bit weird.

Anyway, so I drew the paper to El Ocaso, which is like 2400 km away from where we are now. I was joking with Aryl on the lineup about how it’s nice that her team doesn’t have to walk too far since Elisio is only half the distance. She laughed and took my paper.

“You lazy bun.” She smiled and shoved her paper into my hand. “I’m doing this for Saffron and Navi.”

I was going to say I was just kidding, but it’s our turn and Aryl went ahead and registered. Well. Elisio, here we come!

Of course Navi gave me a lecture after we returned to our teams and told them what happened. I feel a bit sad that ATIB won’t be going the same way as we are, but I’m not worried. Aryl is an awesome leader.

We’re definitely going to miss each other. I hope the war ends soon.

On the plus side, team SNNN is here for some reason. They are going to site A, too. Saffron and Navi have been crazy happy when they found out. I still don’t get why they like those playboys so much. Yeah Sun’s weapon’s kinda cool, but those kids always get on my nerves.

Wait, is that why Aryl switched with me?

May 27, Q.A. 81

It’s been a week since the march started. I didn’t realize how many civilians are in our charge. Actually, I didn’t even know we would be traveling with civilians. There was a kid no older than seven begging with her dad to take a stuffed bear toy.

It makes me a little nervous thinking about all the people who won’t be able to protect themselves if the Grimm catch up with us. I actually feel nauseated a couple times when I walk past the families. Something just doesn’t sit well with me, and it’s driving me crazy because I can’t figure out what’s wrong.

More people join every day. Some of them have already traveled a long way from home, some leave their homes behind only because they feel safer with us, and some don’t even want to be here.

We try to convince everyone to join whenever we could, but there have been resistance and mistrust. The commanders don’t insist when they refused, almost like they don’t mind if anything happen to those who are left behind. Maybe that’s just my imagination. I hope it is.

June 2, Q.A. 81

The scouts had disturbing news. The Grimm are gaining ground on us. Strategy says they will be on top of us within a week. The commanders have decided to make a stand near the city. It will be our first fight.

SNNN were still horsing around. I honestly can’t stand those guys. What do they think this is? Some kind of joke? Weren’t they there when Beacon fell? How could they still act like everything’s okay?

June 5, Q.A. 81

I didn’t know there were still people in the building. I didn’t know! It’s supposed to be evacuated half an hour before we blew it up!

Navi is trying to calm Saffron down now. I should go check on them, but…

God. How can I even face them after today? I gave the ‘go’ to detonate. I was responsible for the death of Monty knows how many today. The blood is on my hands, but my incompetence has forced those blood on the hands of my team as well. I can’t even begin to imagine what they are feeling right now. I… shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.

Copper is calling me. I better go.

I don’t believe in Gods, but I pray to Monty above that ATIB is faring better than us.

[Many civilians were lost during the Great Retreat. While official statements claimed the casualties were largely due to miscommunication and the chaotic nature of the withdrawal, historians had speculated that some of the bombing orders were intentional. Coincidentally, all officers holding the commanding positions during the retreat had perished in the war, making it impossible to confirm or deny such allegations.]

June 9, Q.A. 81

I still can’t quite wrap my head around what happened. The whole event still feels surreal, like a nightmare.

I’m not the one who took it the hardest. A lot of the civilians saw the whole ordeal, even kids who don’t really understand the situation. They didn’t blame us. Not outwardly anyway. I was patrolling with my team, and they greeted us like usual. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that they couldn’t really quite look at us. The camp has become quiet. There is a somberness in the air, like we are all mourning for the dead without uttering a word.

Copper told me I was imagining things. In a sense I hope he’s right, but I also hope he’s wrong.

Everybody told me to not blame myself for what happened. They tried to convince me there’s nothing I could do to save those people. I nodded my head at their comforts, but inwardly I was screaming at them.

How could I not take responsibilities? How could I possibly sleep in comfort knowing the crime I had committed? Yeah, I would never give the go-ahead if I knew there were still people there, but that didn’t change the fact that I did. It was my fault. I might have only caused 10% of the death, but how could you measure lives like that? We are supposed to be the protectors of the world, yet we caused the deaths of people within our reach.

I should have checked with somebody. Anybody. There must have been some way that I could have known something was wrong. Right?

They told me there is no point dwelling on the past, that we must focus on those who are still with us. Maybe I was cruel for reminding them of our failure. Maybe I should have been out there instead.

That Neptune guy from SNNN came to me during lunch today. He said something like, “Don’t carry the weight of the dead. You already have a heavy burden.” I’m pretty sure he copied that off some book or movie. But whatever. It made me feel slightly better. Maybe he’s not a shallow playboy like I thought.

June 19, Q.A. 81

It’s getting really bad. Everybody’s on rationed supplies and ammo, and we aren’t even halfway to Elisio.

They told us about all the cities we’d be making short stops to gather civilians and resupply. We’ve been skipping the last four cities. I ran into commander Loritz few days ago and I asked why we didn’t make those stops. He said there wasn’t enough time. I also asked what will happen to the people in those cities. He said they’d been evacuated by other units, but he wasn’t looking at me in the eyes when he said that.

I had the feeling that he was getting impatient, so I buggered off. I hope he’s just impatient for my unnecessary questions, and nothing else.

We have to move in half an hour. I’m just waiting for the others.

Shit. I really hope the people going to site B is having better luck than us.

June 25, Q.A. 81

I can’t believe it. I can’t fucking believe it.

I should have known something’s wrong when they woke us up in the middle of the night to “keep moving”. I should have questioned the Serg why we’re skipping another town.

How could I be so goddamn stupid? Why didn’t I wake the fuck up and think?

Anybody with half a brain would have realized we were actually taking detours from the cities. Other units my ass. We are the only unit.

Those people are waiting for us to help them. We are their only hope.

How could I not have realized we have abandoned them?

June 27, Q.A. 81

There’s a rebellion in the camp. Well, saying it’s a “rebellion” isn’t accurate. We didn’t overthrow our chain of command. None of us had the gut.

A few of the teams left. They turned back to help the people we left behind. I didn’t volunteer my team, though I knew they’d follow me if I just speak up. I could even feel the expectations from Navi. We should have turned back as well. But I froze like a useless child when commander Loritz asked if we’d risked the lives of our team, our friends.

I have never felt more ashamed of myself.

I’m going to hell if there’s one. I’m going to burn in there for being a coward. I’m sure I’ll suffer for eternity for bringing dishonor to my team.

It feels so wrong to not be out there doing what we were trained to do.

So why did I feel like I made the right decision to keep my mouth shut and my head low?

July 7, Q.A. 81

We just reached the midway checkpoint, the city of El Medio. It was supposed to be a place where the troop could catch their breath and for the commanders to coordinate, but everyone’s on high alert.

The scouts reported hoards heading our way. Commander Loritz organized defense lines. I guess they couldn’t abandon this city like the others. Too many supplies and resources. We’ll have to hold the attack off for as long as we can.

I heard rumors of the number of enemies we’ll be facing. It’s insane. I don’t know how we’re going to pull this off. I don’t think the higher-ups know either.

It’s not like we have a choice though. Without the supplies we’d all starve within a month. Well, even with supplies I’m not sure how long we can hold out. There are too many civilians. It helps that some of them know how to hunt wildlife and gather edible plants, but not enough to keep fifty thousand people fed.

There are rumors that this will become a long siege. Not many believe we will come out of this alive.

Secretly, I agree with them.

July 9, Q.A. 81

At first they were only an outline on the horizon, but now we can see them clearly.

I have never felt this nervous in my life. Not during the initiation. Not when I faced the Grimm alone for the first time.

With each passing minute, the darkness move closer to us.

It’s not the prospect of battle that disturb the soldiers, nor is it the danger that makes children whimper in the night. It’s the waiting, the uncertainty of our fate.

July 11, Q.A. 81

Nineteen squads fell during the battle today.

We were put in the front line, of course, and it’s a miracle that we are all still alive. The first wave of attack was exhausting. The Grimm didn’t push on. They have the advantage of numbers, so I’m not sure what drove them to retreat after their initial failure.

Saffron broke her left arm. The doctors said her Aura should fix it in no time.

But do we have time?

July 12, Q.A. 81

Four hundreds died today. That’s what the HR said.

Saffron’s arm wasn’t getting any better. She looks tired, like all of us. We did our best to hold off the second wave of attack, which also meant we had almost nothing left in us by the end of the day.

July 14, Q.A. 81

Six hundreds.

July 15, Q.A. 81

850.

July 16, Q.A. 81

The death toll continued to rise. More than two thousands had died, and that’s not even counting the civilians we couldn’t see.

July 18, Q.A. 81

When will this end?

July 19, Q.A. 81

I’ve never seen Saffron looking this empty. She’s always so full of emotions, be it joy, panic, worry, or hope. You can read her like an open book. Now it’s like the book is torn and the pages smeared beyond recognition.

She wouldn’t talk to any of us, just sitting there and staring out to the same place.

Copper is angry. I’m not sure to whom. There’s a voice in the back of my head nagging, whispering he’s angry with me for not being there. Serg Nitry said he’s angry at Saffron for falling apart. I don’t believe him.

Why would he carry Saffron all the way back to the base if he really is angry at her?

Maybe he’s angry at himself, like how I want to shred my own existence to pieces after learning what happened.

We are a team, but I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything.

Now Navi’s gone.

July 20, Q.A. 81

After the heavy loss yesterday, the higher-ups seem to finally agree we can’t hold on for much longer. We’ll be on our way again soon. Maybe they should have done that before things went this bad.

But at the same time, if we hadn’t tried to hold the defenses, maybe the civilians wouldn’t be able to get away from the city.

Commander Loritz said this sacrifice is “unfortunate, but not meaningless”. I want to tell him to go screw himself and die in a pit full of Grimm.

But part of me also feel comforted by his words.

I just don’t want to lose anyone else.

July 23, Q.A. 81

Commander Loritz held a speech specifically for us Nemi leaders today. To boost morale or salvage what’s left of it. I honestly can’t care less.

He said that we should be proud of our achievements, for the lives we saved, for the resources we secured during the siege, and for the precious time we bought for thousands of innocent lives.

He told us we are heroes. He said there were no shame in feeling afraid. He said it’s smart to retreat and fight another day.

He said sacrifices were necessary for humanity to survive. That we should not bear the burden of what happened.

I don’t believe a single word he farted through that filthy mouth. How dare he even suggest we had saved people, when so many of our comrades had fallen? How dare he claim to know what we must be feeling?

I want to punch him. I want to bust that son of a bitch’s skull open. I want to throw him into the horde of Grimm following us and ask him if the pain of being torn apart could compare to what he claimed to understand about the suffering our friends had gone through.

We turned our back on those who needed our assistance. We clung to a false sense of purpose when greed was the only reason we stayed.

But that’s not the worst part. The worst part was that, by the end of that speech, we all agreed to the complete bullshit, and walked out of the conference room, feeling as if we were really some kind of heroes who made the tough choices to keep everyone else alive.

August 4, Q.A. 81

Our next stop will be Furia. There’s still a long way to go, but at least we left El Medio.

The desert advanced with the Grimm, as if Remnant itself also rejects us.

Saffron’s arm was still in poor condition, but there’s nothing the medical team could do for her. Copper and I tried pleading with them to give her just a little more help. Pain medicine. Sleeping pills. Anything. But the stock was already bare. The high number of injured soldiers didn’t help the matter.

The medics have slowed the prescription. It won’t be long before it comes to a complete halt. Doctor Reij tried her best to let us down gently, even though she’s just as exhausted as the rest of us.

There are others who are enduring graver suffering. Or so I have tried to convince myself. Saffron doesn’t need it anyway. She’s got us. I tell myself that everyday, not daring to allow myself to doubt those words. Besides, it won’t be smart to anger our physicians now, will it?

Saffron didn’t seem to mind. She didn’t look anything, still the empty shell of her former self. The psychiatrist tried to reassure us that it’s just a phase of prolonged shock. I’m not sure if he believed it himself.

Part of me wonder whether we all have part of ourselves buried in the ruins of El Medio.

August 12, Q.A. 81

The journey is quiet, almost peaceful. The menacing shadows no longer cried for our blood. For some, the nightmare seem far enough behind.

But everyday when I look at Saffron, at the empty seat where our fourth member should have occupied, I know it’s not enough. It will never be enough, so long as our enemies still exist on this planet.

August 15, Q.A. 81

We have arrived at Furia. The city is well supplied and defended. Many of the citizens here haven’t even seen a Grimm. They are enthusiastic, and warm to us.

I caught myself wondering when their serene smiles will turn to angry scowls. Too many times have I imagined the day when this sanctuary will also crumple beneath the brutality of the Grimm. I tried to dismiss those thoughts, if for nothing else other than to suppress the negativity.

The commanders had another meeting today, discussing whether we should keep to our original plan to retreat to Elisio. Commander Loritz strongly opposed the idea, claiming that Furia is a perfectly defensible location, and that we must not bring upon others further north the same horrors the citizens from the south had witnessed. They will be voting on the matter, though the result is obvious.

Saffron remained the same hollow shell. She doesn’t smile like she used to all the time anymore and it’s almost too painful to look at her. She doesn’t respond to anything, not even when SNNN came to talk to her. It’s a stupid plan anyway, but I so hope it worked.

Copper’s quieter than usual. I saw he’s getting restless. I know he wanted to be out there and fight. I mean I get it that he’s raised in Mistral and taught to never run away from his enemies and everything, but I worry about him. He’s always the last one to fall back. There were too many close calls. I want to stop him, but I’m afraid if I do, he’s really going to lose it.

I don’t want to lose anyone else.

August 18, Q.A. 81

The officials finally settled down on a decision. Yes, we will be staying, probably for good.

During the past three days, waves upon waves of refugees entered the city. Most of us feel encouraged that so many have survived, but the commanders don’t seem to share our enthusiasm.

There's a shadow behind those forced smile. When they thought no one else is looking, they share urgent whispers with one another. We knew something’s up, but no one want to be the guy to ask too many questions and break the facade of tranquility. The hope we have right now is fragile.

August 20, Q.A. 81

More refugees arrive every day. The city is getting more and more crowded.

I saw one of the captains from the other unit arguing with commander Loritz after the leadership meeting last night. He called him, among other names, an egoistic scoundrel and a cold-blooded sociopath, before storming off.

The reasons for that episode was revealed this morning.

The Logistics did some assessment on our current stock, the territory, the expected natural resource yield, and came up with a sustainable population threshold. Once the limit is reached, we will have to turn people away.

Someone asked if we will be redirecting them to site B. Commander Loritz just shook his head and said no more.

It rattled me, the way the commander seemed to not want to talk about site B. I hope it’s just because they couldn’t get the communication system working.

I hope ATIB is doing okay.

Please let my friends be okay.

August 24, Q.A. 81

There was another battle today. It wasn’t bad, much tamer than most of the fights we had. There were only about two hundred class C and five hundred class D Grimm following the last group of refugees. We eliminated the threat with relative ease.

[The class system quantifies the strength of Grimm, Huntsmen, and in later time weapon systems. Criteria for measuring inlcude raw power, toughness, ferocity, recovery rate, agility, rarity, intelligence, and other special ability. It uses a base-10 logarithmic scale similar to that used to measure earthquake. Average civilians without unlocked Aura score between 11 to 100 points, and thus is categorized in Class E. Some examples of Grimm, Huntsmen-in-training and their respective classes are recorded below:

Class D   Ursa(900), Beowolf(500), Boarbatusk(400)

Class C   Creep(9,000), Nevermore(7,000), Deathstalker (5,000)

Class B   Griffon(50,000)

Class A   Goliath(400,000)

There are rumors that various Class S Grimm have also been sighted during recent years. However, the only confirmed case is the Dragon Grimm that invaded Beacon Academy in the beginning of the war. Considering the destruction they would have wrought  in their presence, it's safe to assume rumors of other occurrences are just that, rumors.]

The commanders congratulated us for our improvements, saying that we’d all be eligible for a Huntsman license soon. In retrospect, I think we were all too happy for something to take out our aggression on.

I thought I’d pent up a lot over the past couple months. I couldn’t be more wrong. The pressure I felt was nothing compared to the others.

I only recently learned that the orphanage Sun grew up in got razed to the ground. Neptune told me that’s why he came back, to help his brothers and sisters, his family. They thought they could make their way to the orphanage if they followed the army, maybe even figure out a way to help.

They didn’t get a chance to. The news came last week that the village had fallen in a surprise night attack. No survivors were found.

Sun’s one of the strong-willed guys. He didn’t crack under the grief, still making goofy comments.

Saffron wasn’t able to. She has completely changed.

Our timid, crybaby Saffron, who used to hide in Navi’s bed during storms, and used to shut her eyes just before her weapon cut into the Grimm, became someone else.

I only noticed something wrong today, after the Grimm were exterminated and the area secured. Saffron was standing in the middle of the field, her saber lowered to the side. She was facing away from me, staring into the distant horizon. I wanted to tell her she did a good job today.

Copper saw me. He was waving frantically. I didn’t understand what he’s trying to say, so I continued toward Saffron.

I patted her shoulder and called out as gently as I could. I didn’t want to startle her. Well, she wasn’t. She didn’t flinch like I thought she would, instead she just turned around slowly, almost mechanically. I felt the smile froze on my face.

She looked right past me, like I wasn’t there at all. She didn’t seem to recognize me, didn’t seem to acknowledge I was there at all.

I wanted to say something, but no words came. She trudged away in the same slow and mechanical way, leaving me behind.

Copper shook me out of my trance. He grabbed my arms hard, his face twisted in frustration.

I nodded, and asked him what had happened to our Saffron. For a moment, his eyes burned with rage. I thought he’s going to punch me. He should have.

He didn’t. Instead, he just sighed and averted his gaze.

“I didn’t want to worry you.” He said. “You’ve got enough on your plate with the higher-ups.”

I didn’t know if he meant it to be sarcastic, but those words cut me deeper than anything the Grimm could inflict upon me. I told him I’m their leader before anything else. He looked up again. I tried again and told him I want to help them, to make things right for my team.

He looked away again.

“It’s too late now.” I can still hear the resentment and bitterness. Copper is on the brink of giving up. “The Saffron we knew died with Navi.”

August 28, Q.A. 81

Things have been quiet since the last attack. There is no further sighting of Grimm.

Rather than feeling assured, the whole city has succumbed to stillness. The air is heavy like the hot, humid, and windless summer days. It’s become difficult to breath.

Saffron’s getting even worse. Sometimes she would start humming eerie tunes or talking to people who were not there. Other people avoid her. They just pretend she’s not there most of the time.

We tried to take Saffron to the medics, but they told us the last psychiatrist has been transferred to the back. Probably Elisio.

We are not going to give Saffron up. If no one else would help us, we will do it ourselves. Copper and I have been trying to cheer her up, to get the old Saffron back. So far there’s only one instance when she seemed to be… there. It was when we told her we’re going to write to ATIB.

Of course, neither of us know if the letter will ever arrive. They aren’t exactly delivering mails anymore. But it’s a hope we are allowed to cling to until it shatters.

So we sat in our shared quarter, Copper and I trying our hardest to act excited, while Saffron hugged her knees and rocked back and forth at the corner. We tried to ask her if she wanted to write a few lines, but she just stared at the paper like she didn’t hear the questions.

I can’t say I wasn’t eager to write this letter. After everything we’ve gone through, it’s impossible to not want to have a piece of the old time back. I want to hear Aryl’s voice again. I want to know that they are huddled up somewhere safe. Soon I was lost in writing the letter. Copper too.

It was at the end, when we were signing our names that Saffron finally spoke.

“Sign for me.” She tilted her head slightly and smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes. “And for Navi as well.”

And she turned back to the wall, and started humming again.

September 12, Q.A. 81

The threshold has been reached.

They knew the day would come. Of course they do. They have been monitoring everything. I know that’s the reason all Nemi were replaced from gatekeeping duty.

The wall that we’ve been reinforcing over the past month has played its role, albeit not something we had expected. The untrained civilians couldn’t get past its height nor its sturdiness.

It’s difficult to watch they turning people away. The only thing more impossible than ignoring their desperate pleads is stopping this madness. You can tell who is on the verge of breaking down, and who is ready to rebel. Many of the Nemi are ready to overthrow the command. Copper. Me. SNNN. All we need is a good reason. A chance.

But they didn’t give us any.

They arranged senior soldiers to guard the gate. In fact, I think they are actively forbidding us from even getting close to it if it can be helped. The senior officers don’t look like they want that job, but they have kids and families in the city. They have something to lose, so they quietly shoulder the responsibilities of rejecting those seeking asylum.

I don’t know how they deal with the guilt. I guess they either just lie to themselves or try to justify it.

One of them told us that it’s the only way we can protect the lives already under our care. Another said those people at least have a chance to survive out there. True. We do try to share whatever supply we can spare so they can get under way. There are even rumors that some other safe zones became so overloaded that they started killing the weak and the old.

I want to believe they are blatant lies, that the commanders aren’t heartless murderers who care about nothing but their own comfort. But more than that, I want to believe what they are saying is true. I want to believe that we have indeed no choice, that those blood are not on our hands. Just so that I don’t have to feel the crushing remorse of allowing this to happen.

September 15, Q.A. 81

We received a response for our letter, but it’s not from ATIB. It’s from commander Tyson.

She called Copper and I to her office this afternoon and pulled out the letter from her desk drawer. She asked if we’d posted it. We said yes.

She got up from behind her desk and approached us. Her strong hands on my shoulder made me feel like a weak, small child again. Her uniform was crumpled and it smelled, as if she hadn’t had the chance to rest in a long while.

I tried really hard to focus on anything but she’s about to say. I knew it the moment we stepped through the door.

She told us the expedition company to site B was ambushed. There was no survivor. She said she was sorry.

Copper and I thanked the commander for notifying us. We left, and head back to our quarter. Saffron was there, humming like she always does nowadays.

I kneeled down beside her and opened my mouth. My voice cracked. Something about that tune just broke me. I started sobbing, and so did Copper.

Saffron never looked at us. She kept humming.

“Forget the horror here…”

October 3, Q.A. 21

The scouts came back with grave news. There’s a horde heading our way. They say there are at least five thousands class B, and double the size of class C and class D.

Everyone’s scared, even team SNNN stopped trying to joke.

We have maybe two weeks to strengthen our defense. The commanders promised us backup and support from the capital, but we all know help won’t arrive on time, if they are coming at all.

October 7, Q.A. 21

Morale is at an all-time low after the incident in town.

The Grimm are not even here yet, but people are dying already. There have been more than twenty suicides, and more fights ending in blood than we can count.

There are also people who were perfectly fine the night before, but just didn’t wake up the next morning.

Copper told me those people “completely gave up”. Their heads couldn’t deal with the pressure of living like this. So their bodies just shut down.

We Huntsmen can fight Grimm, but we are powerless to save those people.

October 10, Q.A. 81

There have been rumors. Really awful ones. I tried to not pay any minds to them, but they are everywhere.

I overheard someone talking about “the conspiracy of site B”. Part of me want to tell them to bugger off, but part of me also want to know the truth of my friends’ deaths.

Doubts, anger, despair. They are exactly what attract the Grimm, and now they fill every inch of the city.

Maybe this is the end.

October 12, Q.A. 81

Someone leaked the truth.

Site B was never meant to hold. The government never expected the expedition team to make it that far.

And even if they did. They wouldn’t the resources we had. Most of the food and ammo and other resources were shipped north, to Elisio.

Site B was not a stronghold. It was a graveyard. The soldiers were not escorts. They were bait.

The government had it all planned out. Use live people to distract the Grimm so that others can escape and build up defenses. Those sick sociopath.

Copper’s been laughing ever since he heard the truth. That’s the last straw for him.

I’m tired. I don’t know what to do anymore. ATIB and Navi are all dead. Copper and Saffron are still breathing, but they are no longer alive.

I’m so tired.

October 15, Q.A. 81

This will probably be my last entry. I can see the Grimm on the horizon here on the wall. Logistic estimated they will be here by nightfall. All units are mobilized. There’s nowhere to run.

This is karma. It’s our punishment for leaving our comrades behind, for betraying those we are supposed to protect. I don’t mean our eventual death, for it is a relief marking the end of the punishment. I meant the suffering in the past week.

Aryl. Braz. Isab. Taupher. Navi.

Sorry for keeping you guys waiting. Don’t worry. We’ll be joining you soon.

The day after the last entry, Grimm breached the wall of the city of Furia. Vacuo suffered its worst single battle casualty since the Great War.

However, unlike the prediction by Tan Ryers, the city did not fall. Reinforcement arrived just in time to repel the enemy. Unfortunately, they were too late to save the two hundreds and sixty seven thousand lives, including all three remaining members of team TSCN.

Interestingly, many had claimed to hear a female voice amidst the chaos of the battle. This is believed to be the root of the urban legend haunting the city of Furia ever since, and the inspiration to Nuria Belmonte’s popular novel, “Spanish Sahara”.

While the speculation can neither be proven nor refuted, the lullaby sang by the ghost in “Spanish Sahara” did contain some curious resemblance to the lyrics recorded in Mr. Ryer’s journal.

Forget the horror here
Forget the horror here
Forget the horror here
Leave it all down here
It’s future rust
And then it’s future dust

Chapter Text

Fintan Todde immigrated from Vacuo to Vale about fifteen years before the war. She’s a skilled survival training instructor, and the coordinator to many Faunus-based refugee camps and communities. After the war, Ms. Todde became one of the Faunus right ambassadors. She invited me to the embassy for the interview.

I’m sure you’ve heard all sorts of stories regarding events in the war. The Cobblestone Assault. The Crusade of Fire. The Battle of the Guardians. You would have to be living under a rock for the past twenty years to have steered clear of the tales.

Bravery, strength, and honor. We sing songs about the great battles. We celebrate the victories with pride and zeal. We worship our heroes. We name our children after them, hoping they would grow to bring the same light and hope the heroes had once shone on this world.

In comparison, we tend to not share stories of our sufferings. Maybe it was because trepidations had become daily routine. Maybe we needed the light to counteract the darkness, the hope for the despair. I can understand that. After all, hundreds of thousands of people lost their lives not to the Grimm, but to the terror within their hearts.

Nevertheless, I think it is wrong to overlook or forget the anguish we caused one another.

You might find it difficult to believe, but many Faunus would rather risk being eaten by Grimm than sharing living space with Human. Death was more preferable than facing the humiliation bestowed upon us.

[“But surely those are the minority?”]

If by “minority” you mean “no more than half of the world's population”, you are correct.

[“I don’t mean to offend you. I was referring to the statistics from official records.”]

It's fine.

Well, I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised if you have only seen what the government wanted you to see.

Did you know that a lot of the so-called cases were never filed in the system? Half of them were neglected because the police simply didn't have enough manpower to go through the paperwork. The other half though…

Being a Faunus after the Fall was difficult. Everybody saw the White Fang participation in the dreadful attack. The fear and anger fueled conflicts between the two races already in a fragile relationship. It pushed both side to do terrible things.

Many lost their homes during the Fall. The number only increased with each passing day. The city of Vale was “under control”, as long as the Huntsmen were there. But they didn’t stay for long. Many received missions to assist those in rural areas. And the government drove the rest out with their politics.

As days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, we realized the normalcy we once enjoyed was no more. The border shrank like low-tide. People began to move toward the more populated area. They established refugee camps and communities.

In the beginning, most of the camps were divided by races. The Human occupied the city centers, while Faunus were driven to the less populated forests and fields.

I was in charge of one of such camps. There were fifty of us living near Forever Fall at first. Lacking any sort of supplies and ways to acquire them, we soon started hunting and fishing.

Faunus are physically more suited to survive in the wild. Enhanced hearing, scent detection, and night vision. They are our most valuable assets, better than any existing tools. If not for these natural advantages, we would have died off long ago.

Faunus became the largest suppliers for hunted goods. Human stuck with farming, but the harvest didn’t always yield and their farmlands grew smaller as new refugees poured in. Eventually it became too crowded to produce crops or raise animals.

The frustrated human wanted our goods, but the merchants refused to cooperate or negotiate. Many of them had been our employers before the war began. They spread false rumors about us, trying to pressure us into selling them the goods at lower-than-fair price.

Distrust drove us to the border. Jealousy fueled further discrimination and oppression. Amidst the rising tension, some voices spoke up. The voices of the Huntsmen.

Huntsmen are noble warriors. They fight the great evil of Grimm. They risk their lives to protect this world, often ending up perishing in the wild. It’s a hard life. The honorable ones often have little to leave behind, be it wealth or family. It was said that only the most virtuous would choose such path, or the most foolish.

Not many Faunus had the opportunity to make such choice. The bullying killed their enthusiasm to contribute to “the greater good”. Many were only interested in protecting their friends and families in their community.

[She paused and looked at me meaningfully, as if expecting something. I asked her what it is.]

I told other Human this before. Many of your kind were rather… irritated about what I said. They thought it was not a reason, but an excuse. I was wondering what might be your impression. You seem undisturbed. That’s good. I am convinced you really are interested in learning about us.

As I was saying. Despite the discouragements, a lot of Faunus rose to the task. Many of the most acclaimed heroes in the war are of Faunus heritage. Ms. Scarlatina, for example. I am pleased to know at least some of us find their places in this world. Her teammates are wonderful people, especially Ms. Adel. She has been one of the most vocal supporters for Faunus right in recent era. Her nobility played a major role in the improvement of our living condition in Vale, and her status as a renowned Huntress helped to bridge a gap politicians are incapable of.

Some of our heroes are less well-known, one of them being Blake Belladonna.

Blake was a Huntress-in-training before she came to my camp. She kept to herself mostly, but cared for everyone else whenever she could, however she would. We showed her our ways of tracking down animals and different ways to cook them, and she taught us how to fight Grimm. She defended us from the Grimm and any Human looking for troubles.

Situation in the city escalated in just a few months. Human and Faunus relation deteriorated to the point of concern. Every new day brought dozens of unprovoked attack by Human and robberies by the White Fangs. Many Human merchants demanded the government to banish all Faunus from the kingdom.

Huntress Goodwitch, temporary headmistress of Beacon then, discovered the plot and rallied Huntsmen and trainees to intervene as peacekeepers. As a result, the government abandoned their plan, and the Vale Committee came to be. They invited merchants, camp leaders, police officers, even some politicians to the negotiation table.

“It is the duty of every Huntsmen to fight the Grimm and protect the world,” the headmistress said. “But we cannot do that if the world is turning against each other. We must unite.”

And so all major corporations, agencies, organizations, and communities selected their representatives for the Vale Committee. I wanted to recommend Blake, but she declined without hesitation. Her refusal surprised me, but I didn’t think too much of her true reason.

The Committee put a lot of effort in rebuilding the trust between Human and Faunus. They pushed the anti-terrorism and anti-discrimination legislations through the Council, and launched many programs to educate both sides of their differences.

There were heavy resistance, but the Committee worked relentlessly. Little by little, Human and Faunus came together. One of the most successful program was the Joint Community.

As I mentioned before, Faunus are exceptional at hunting and fishing because of our animal characteristics. Although Human lack these abilities, they make it up with intelligence. They invented machines and tools and procedures to assist them, and they knew just how to manage their farms.

At first nobody thought the Joint Community would be successful because of our different lifestyles. The critics went as far as claiming it would be a complete failure, and hence a waste of resources and time. Even the most ardent enthusiast had their doubts.

Only the Huntsmen believed in the program, and they were right. The combined talents doubled, even tripled food acquisition rate and storage time.

Moreover, people learned more about each other when they work together. They came to realize they were not as different as they once thought. We were ignorant to each other’s way of life, but most were willing to learn and adapt. The Joint Community developed their own shared culture, concluding the success of the program.

For a while, it seemed like all tension between Human and Faunus would dissipate. But the racists stubbornly refused to agree the two races are equal.

In response to White Fang, the Human separatists formed their own terrorist organization, the Black Blood.

The Black Blood caused much troubles and griefs for our society. I hesitate to say this, but if my opinion counts towards anything, I would say they were equally responsible for the loss of the hundreds of thousands of lives during the war.

It seemed ironically tragic to me that, even in wartime and with a clear common enemy, some still could not see past the physical appearances.

I once confided this to a dear friend of mine, and he told me to not bear any hatred on those people, but to pity them.

[She put her left hand on her right shoulder blade and rubbed at it gently, as if trying to drive away some kind of soreness.]

“War is a terrible thing,” he said to me. “Some people refused to look at the bigger problems, because they are not controllable. Those people are just as frustrated and afraid as we are, our differences being that while we have the courage to stand and fight, they choose to project their anger to those weaker than them. They do this to maintain their sanity, but unknowingly become madmen in the process. We may be damaged, but our wounds will heal. But they can’t. They are utterly shattered.”

Chapter Text

Devon Kruse is a lumber from southwest Patch. During the war, he worked in the Natural Resource Department of the Vale government, using his experience in lumbering and woodcrafting to help in the war effort. After the ar, he married a young woman in his department and moved back to Patch.

When the Great Retreat began in May, everyone on the countryside knew evacuation orders would come to us sooner rather than later. There were only two questions: when, and where.

At that time, the government convinced people to hold their horses and wait to be told what to do. To better manage the population and the resources, the important people claimed, so we can win this damn war. They put all these smart people to work on some great plan that would supposedly answer all our questions. So despite nobody really understanding anything the government said, we believed there’s a plan for where everyone’d go and what everyone’d do.

See, most people still had faith back then. We waited patiently for our turns to pack and leave. Life’s almost normal when there’s still order, or maybe it’s just a pretense. I suppose everyone had that little bit of hope that they would be the lucky few to remain unaffected.

Only the paranoid folks - or maybe I should say the smart ones, ha! Only they disobeyed the instructions and went on their ways.

Well, okay, maybe not so smart. Some of them didn’t know what they were doing, got lost and died in the depth of the forests. Some gave up after few weeks of harshness in the wild and turned back to the villages and cities. Most ended up where they started after going in a circle. Only a few gained any advantage by trying anything, but they had it far better than anyone else.

I was worried about the war and all. Everybody on the island did. We all knew things were going to shit fast, but we knew better than to panic. We ain’t like the city folks who seldom done any hard work. Much of the island was Grimm territory. It’s not a place for the faint of hearts.

Anyhow. We waited for the government to send someone over and tell us where we’d be moving to. Situation at the city was so chaotic they had to put in city-wide curfews and assign passes. Besides, our mayor - Gods bless that poor bastard’s soul - assured us everything would be okay, that within a couple weeks we’d all be resting somewhere else, safe and sound.

Except that didn’t happen. The government was “too busy” doing who-knows-what. We never got any words to start preparing to ditch our homes. Maybe they thought Patch was less important because it’s an island. Maybe someone put the paperwork for us on their desk and forgot all about it. Maybe they-

Well, no use in trying to figure that out now. Fact was we didn’t evacuate before the Grimm overwhelmed the island.

[“I’ve heard stories…”]

They didn’t appear out of nowhere like some people said. The whole chain of event made perfect sense.

[“How so?”]

Look. We used to have Huntsmen cleaning out Grimm nests every so often, but at that time every able body was called to help with defenses and other works. Our municipal government was busy dealing with our own crisis as well, like rations and transportations.

For a while the Grimm kinda hid and bred or whatever. They were out of sight. So even though they were a big problem, people sorta put them to the back of their minds until they came clawing.

It happens. I don’t blame nobody for it. People shouldn’t either, not unless they knew someone who could make a difference did nothing on purpose.

Anyway. They hit fast and hard. We only realized their population had grown beyond our control after entire villages disappeared. Some of those places that went down in the beginning sent their fastest runners to warn the rest of us.

Notice I said to warn us. Not to call for help. They knew they were doomed, but they were trying to make sure the rest weren’t all doomed as well. Those were the unsung heroes you don’t usually hear about. But they saved us. It’s true. Those warnings were the only reason why only two thousands died instead of the whole island.

Long story short, the mayor launched the Panic Plan. It’s something our ancestors thought up long ago. The whole system used to rely on several beacons or signal towers and couple watchers to make large fire and different colors of smoke to warn everyone about an emergency. We replaced it with technology.

Phase one was supposed to be emergency signals sent through the major radio station, but since the CTT went down that was out of the question. Phase two required physical contact. Pilots risked their lives and flew their planes over the island to sound the alarms. They didn’t have time to play any sort of announcement. In times like that you didn’t need words anyway. Just hearing the blaring siren was enough of an indication that we were all shoulder deep in trouble.

Folks near the ports grabbed what they could and took the first airships and boats they could get on. It didn’t even matter anymore where they were going. People in the rural areas didn’t even have time to pack. As soon as we heard the alarm we knew there’s not even a second to waste.

I’m not sure how many people prepared a to-go bag like I did. When I heard the siren from miles away, I was out getting lumbers. My house was on my way to the nearest port, so I threw down my axe and rushed back and picked up my survival pack, and I just ran.

But even leaving everything behind and running like mad didn’t save everybody. To this day, we still find remains of corpses, clothing, and other personal belongings at the less populated places. Most, if not all of them, were people running for the airports and docks.

[He paused for a moment and lit up a cigarette.]

I don’t like to think about those who didn’t even have a chance to run, or those who ran but got caught up by the Grimm. It’s difficult enough to forget about what happened at the PIA.

[Patch International Airport. It was the largest airport on the island of Patch before the war, and the only port with airships going directly to other kingdoms.]

You see, I lived deep in the woods, meaning I was a good distance away from the closest port. When I got there, the last ship was long gone. I had no choice but to continue running, but all the ports I went to were already empty by the time I got there.

For five days I ran, with only few hours of sleep or rest. Every time I closed my eyes, I would be startled awake almost instantly by the rustling bushes or the howling wind, thinking the Grimm finally caught up with me. I decided I’d die of exhaustion before I let those monsters claim my life. I almost burst into tears when I arrived at the PIA and saw there were still people and airships.

The little sense of relief was soon replaced by dread, however, when I realized the airships leaving the docks were not returning. The Grimm were too close, they said, and the pilots were already breaking all rules and regulations by still being there.

When the mayor stood on the stage and made the announcement, I felt the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Some people were crying, some were shouting, and some tried to force their way through the line. The mayor - again, bless him - was a small, balding man. I don’t know where he found the strength, but through the chaos he said somberly, “I don’t know if there’d be enough space for us all, but I won’t leave anyone. I’ll stay until the last person gets on an airship - or Gods help me, I shall suffer whatever awaits.”

That got everybody quiet. People found renewed strength and dignity in his resolve. We got a hold of ourselves and let the staff usher us onto the airships.

I suppose that’s what being a great leader is about. You don’t have to be the bravest or the most brilliant person all the time, but you go beyond your limit when your people need you. You don’t have to make no mistake every single time, but you’ve gotta make the right decision when it counts.

There’s still sobbing and despairs, but we calmed down enough to think. We let the youngsters on the airships first. Then those who possessed special talents and could increase our odds in winning the war.

I was one of the lucky guys who got on the last airship before they announced gravely that the ship was overloaded. There was few protests, most of which from children who begged their parents to come with. I remember this seven-year-old-looking boy next to me, his mother weeping by his side, and his father waving from the shore, laughing and crying.

When they lifted the boarding stair, I stood at the corner, trembling from either exhaustion, relief, or shame for myself. I don’t know. I felt guilty listening to the children pleading with their parents, watching the sorrowful tears as the parents waved their beloved kids eternal goodbyes. It would be right to give up my spot if it meant that at least one family would be reunited, but I was afraid, so afraid that I couldn’t move.

Looking around you can see people having the same guilty feelings. Some elders already got up from their seats and waved at the fortunate parents to exchange places with them. Uneasy teenagers buried their faces in their hands, the customized weapons on their sides a telling sign that they were Huntsmen trainees. Many of them probably felt it to be their duties to stay and fight, but couldn’t find the courage.

An explosive commotion shook me out from my thoughts and self-loathing. I turned around to see a blonde girl with burning red eyes struggling against a wall of grown men and women trying to pin her down.

“No!” She cried with such ferocity I was afraid for those standing in her way. “Let me through! I can fight!”

I felt really bad for her. She was bawling and trying so hard to get off the airship. I didn’t know why then, just thinking to myself that she must be insane to want to do that. You’d agree with me if you’d seen her. I mean, she’s missing one arm, for goodness’ sake!

Just then, I heard screaming from the shore. We all looked out of the windows, and…

[He stopped at that. I waited for several seconds for him to continue, but he seemed so deep in the memory he had forgotten about the interview. I called him several times before he came back.]

Huh? ...sorry. Where was I? ...ah. Yes. We looked out of the windows, and saw the black mass on the horizon. The Grimm were here.

I heard an officer shouting frantically through his radio for the pilots to take off. The floor shook. For a moment, I thought the Grimm had sneaked up on us and we’d all die, or the airship was breaking apart from the weight of all the passengers.

It wasn’t either of those. The shaking was the engines being pushed to their limits, making for a rapid start.

The blonde girl all but screamed when she realized the ship was moving. She tried to get free. Boy was she tough. Ten grown men and women barely pinned her down.

The sounds of grinding metals, crying children, and confused yells filled the cabinet. For a few minutes I forgot everything except the overloaded airship, praying my hardest that it wouldn’t just drop out of the sky, like how it usually happens in movies.

It was by no mean a comfy ride. The pilots rushed the takeoff procedures, and as a result almost everyone got pressed into their seats or fell to their sides when the airship went from stationary to full thrust.

The rumbling noise and the shaking weakened gradually after what felt like an eternity. When the airship finally stabilized, everyone on the ship cheered. We shook hands with each other in tears of joy and relief. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw the blonde girl struggling to get up from under the pile of people.

And that’s when it happened.

Bright white light and thunderous roar exploded from the tail end of the airship. Everyone stopped and turned toward the sound.

I kinda expected to see… what’s that thing called? The Grimm that look like giant birds? Ah, right. Nevermore. I thought it’s that thing slamming into the back of the airship and causing an explosion onboard. I was wrong.

It didn’t come from the airship. It was from the dock. We only caught the last of the blast when we turned to look, but I will never forget the sight.

The airport was no more. The explosion razed it to the ground and flame that went up as high as the sky engulfed the area. We were in shock. Nobody moved a muscle for a long, long time. It was surreal, quite like what it must feel like to be deaf, except of course we can still hear the engine whining and the smaller explosions from the distance.

Only a Huntsmen could achieve something that magnificent. I didn’t realize it when I got on the airship, but some of them must have stayed behind. Whether they intended to make a stand and hope for a chance at survival on the infested island, I will never know. All hope was lost the minute the Grimm made the grand entrance.

It was an act of mercy to set everything ablaze. The inferno was much more preferable than getting devoured and torn to pieces by the Grimm. An explosion of that magnitude and intensity would have incinerated the flesh and bone almost instantly.

Of course, those thoughts didn’t occur to me until much later. I was still awed by the flame. I could almost feel the heat, even on the airship.

The silence was disrupted just as suddenly as it started.

I’m no good with words, but if “heartbroken” is a sound, that was it. I looked back to where it came from, and saw the blonde girl. She stopped struggling completely, her expression vacant. The only reason I knew it came from her was because of the tears that continued pouring down her face.

People started to realize what had taken place then. Quiet sobs began echoing throughout the cabinet, but as if an unspoken rule had been laid before us, nobody raised their voices anymore. The quietness remained for the rest of the journey to the city. We mourned for those who didn’t make it, and prayed for the heroes who bravely sacrificed themselves in silence.

Out of both pity and curiosity I sat down next to the blonde girl, who was put into a seat. I wanted to console her, though she didn’t react to anything anyone did or said. It was apparent someone close to her was still on the island when the explosion took place.

Her eyes were closed then, so I put a hand on her shoulder and shook her lightly. Her eyes snapped open. They were no longer bright red. Lilac eyes stared back at me.

I remembered those eyes. They belonged to a Huntsmen that used to come with his team and eradicate Grimm in my district. I suddenly remembered his boisterous smile, the way he proudly announced his name, and his flaming Semblance.

It was then that I realized I will never see him again.

Chapter Text

Cyrus Hunt was the director of the Whisper Corp, Vale’s special task force, during the Silent War. He retired from active duty shortly after the war ended, when the task force was exposed to the public. Ever since, there had been continuous rumors of the organization’s involvements in various battles, both against the Grimm, the criminals, and the citizens themselves. He refused to make any statement about those accusations, stating that he had only agreed to the interview regarding the event of the Black Massacre.

 

To clarify, the Whisper Corp was not involved in the Black Massacre in any way, shape or form. Despite what some may tell you, we are not heartless monsters.

But I do know someone who was there, on a personal level, I mean. That person also allowed me to discuss her experience with you. It is why you are here.

[“I appreciate that.”]

Do you?

That’s not the right question. I should ask, how could you? How could any of us who were not there? And even those who were could not give a full account of how the others felt.

We all played a different role in the war. Some were heroes, some victims, some profiters, and some others. Despite we were all survivors.

[“Are you referring to the recent exposure of the Whisper Corp?”]

Nice try.

[He smiled and tapped his cigar against the brim of his coffee mug. Some of the ashes fell in. He took a sip and ignored my rather ungraceful reaction.]

So what do you wish to know? Most of what I can tell you will be published by the Council soon.

[“Just your account on the event. In your own words, from your perspective.”]

Are you sure? Well then. I suppose the story began in one gloomy afternoon indistinguishable from all others, when I walked into Last Drop, the only cafe still operating in the city during the war.

I was not there for the coffee, of course. Few days prior, I received a letter from an old friend recommending a stranger for work. It sounded suspicious, but even our top analyst couldn’t find anything wrong with it. The writing, although made under great pressure and consequently rushed, was genuine. There was no hidden message. No signs of forgery or coercion. I sent the best agents available to verify the source and its content, and everything checked out.

After some contemplation, I decided to take a risk and arranged a meeting with this person.

My target [he laughed] - sorry, I couldn’t resist. She was sitting in the corner booth, half immersed in the shadow. She looked no different than anyone else in the cafe, wearing the same exhausted expression on her face and the same haunting eyes. To others, no doubt she was just another woman suffering from this war. In those days, who wasn’t?

But there’s a story behind everyone. And despite how well she hid hers, I could see it in her lazy yet alert posture, in the way one of her hand rested permanently on the bundle on her side - her weapon, no doubt - and in those sharp bright eyes that pierced through everyone in that dimly lit hellhole.

She intrigued me. There’s no other way to put it. Her feline ears were all but invisible under the thick wool of the knitted beanie, and you could tell she’s not very comfortable. But she was used to that kind of discomfort, like she had been enduring it for a long, long time.

That’s the kind of quality that makes a good Whisperer. Not how well you can conceal yourself or steal intelligence from the enemy. Endurance.

I hid myself for an hour and half. All the while she sat there, reading the newspaper. Her eyes darted across the shop every so often, lazily, as if curious of the people coming and going. But I know she’s waiting for me to make myself known, and she knew she’s being watched.

[“Why did you wait for such a long time?”]

You learn a lot about people when you watch them interacting with their environment.

In this case, it’s the lack thereof that spoke volume. The people around her seemed to forget of her existence. Even the waiters and waitresses, who hurried back and forth between customers and the kitchen.

Nobody seemed to question her presence, despite how long she had been there. Maybe when they looked upon her, they knew she was not to be disturbed.

I’m not ashamed to say even I hesitated before finally approaching her.

[“I thought you said the meeting was arranged?”]

It was. But you must understand, not every stray cat was cut for the Whisper Corp. We need agents, not expendable cannon fodders. When we take a person in as one of our own, they will forever be a Whisperer. It’s not like a job you can simply quit. It’s a lifestyle.

I’m sure you have met many who claimed to have worked for the Whisper Corp, haven’t you? Truth is, a ture Whisperer won’t ever say they were one. What you’ve met are informants. Nothing more.

[“Why not? They are loyal patriots to the kingdom.”]

That’s how the government romanticized the job.

No, when you are a Whisperer, you stop being Human or Faunus. You are only a shadow. A - excuse the cheap phrase - whisper in the wind. You are not an entity, you are part of one.

The Whisper Corp is not about individual talents. We don’t operate on individual strength like the Huntsmen, or the collective strength like the army. We are the hand that pushes and pulls and tugs at the strings of the world. We think and act as one.

That is why she never became, strictly speaking, a true Whisperer. And I knew that the moment I made the arrangement to meet. She would forever in her heart be a Huntress, despite where life may take her. Still, I want to know what she had to offer to the Corp. There’s always use for a piece of information, a tool, a…

[“Person?”]

[He smiled.]

I have told you more than you deserve to know about the Whisper Corp. Now let’s turn our attention to the event we discussed. The Black Massacre.

Naturally, I’ve heard about it before any of the reporters even picked up their pen to write about it. It’s part of the job to be alerted of all the disturbance within the city. I knew the role each person played in the event, or didn’t play.

They say war changes a person. It’s true, but it’s not the entire truth.

We were all afraid of the monsters under our bed when we were children. The war reveals to us the monsters were just part of us, and once you realized this, there is no going back.

I think that’s the foundation upon which the Black Blood was established. The few disillusioned individuals who let loose their monster and coaxed out that of the others. Ironic, isn’t it? They despised the White Fang, yet they arguably share the same origin story.

It didn’t just happen overnight, and that’s why nobody really paid much mind to them in the beginning. Most people who had the authority to do anything about them, myself included, had our plates full with other more pressing matters that threatened our immediate livelihood. So as bad as it sounds, we let them do as they pleased, turning a blind eye on the civil war brewing underneath, praying that they would settle their differences on their own accord. “That’s what the VPD is for,” we convinced ourselves. “They will make sure things don’t get out of hand.”

And that’s exactly what happened. Before anyone in the chain of command dared to imagine, the extremists decided to attack a refugee camp.

Personally, I think the move is beyond idiocracy. Understandable when you consider their belief, but still despicable and stupid. It forced the official to take a stand on the matter, condemning what they once passed as citizens settling their frustrations at each other - much like parents turn away from the rivalry between their children - as unforgivable acts of terror.

It is one thing to shove past the person in front of you in the lunch line, but something entirely different to attack a camp full of injured, elders, and kids. We have all done something terrible during the time of desperation, but I doubt the people who participated in that horrific event had any shed of humanity left in them when they acted. I doubt that, even if they should regain their sense of honor and decency, they would have the courage to live on.

The Black Massacre threatened the fragile balance between the races. You know that. Despite the ambush, none of the refugees were seriously harmed. And despite the great loss the VPD suffered that night, they managed to bring in the perpetrators, which played an important role in snuffing out those terrorists before they could grow any stronger.

What very few know is how the VPD even managed to be on the scene to protect the civilians so quickly.

[I admitted I did wonder about it before, but always dismissed it as a stroke of luck.]

It was not luck, nor was it a conspiracy like some of the more paranoid suspected.

VPD acted on a tip. Simple as that.

[“The person you were about to meet?”]

Allegedly. I must admit I was eager to know, myself. But I never ended up asking.

Anyhow, back to topic. VPD had the good sense in them to respond with seriousness. They set up patrols along the areas, while all available units waited with their riot gears near the camp. When the attack began, they quickly put down the fools from the Black Blood.

I’m sure you know what happened next. Just as they were rounding up the felons, the White Fang showed up for the party as well. VPD was caught by surprise, and many died in the chaos.

To this day, we don’t know how they managed that. A popular theory is the White Fang was waiting for the Black Blood to strike first, and then come out to save the refugees as heroes of the day. It would have been an effective recruitment session. But the VPD’s presence derailed their plan, and so they attacked them instead.

[“What about…”]

What if VPD’s informant sold them to the White Fang in turn, and it was all a coup to weaken the police force? Yes, it did cross my mind. That was another reason I arranged the meeting.

I will gladly report with confidence that was not the case. Ask me not for proof, for I can give you none.

But I can tell you this. She was as surprised as anyone when the White Fang carved their way through the VPD. As they fought and the refugees cowered in their homes, she fled into the night.

[“She abandoned those people?”]

To save them, actually.

Here is the theory I put together. By coincidence, she discovered the attack plan on the settlement. She contacted the VPD, hoping to protect the camp from harassment. However, she was spotted by one of the White Fang spies, and unfortunately her whereabouts was reported to Taurus.

I’m not sure whether they knew the Black Blood would be there. Maybe, and maybe not. It doesn’t really matter. The fact remained they mobilized quite a strong force to capture the camp. The rest is history.

[“So what did you do with her?”]

Well, my old friend did write an impressive recommendation, though a very short one. I later learned it was written after she told my friend about her history with the White Fang.

[“She was involved with them?”]

It’s not such a irredeemable past, you know. As sullied as their name had become, the White Fang was once a symbol of peace. Many who joined them were civil right enthusiasts, not deranged murderers. Arguably, we were the ones who converted them to terrorism.

She left them at some point, and their leader then was adamant in finding her again. You see why she fled the camp? If they truly came for her, the White Fang might have captured the place, and held the refugees as hostages to force her do their biddings.

You are a journalist. I’m sure you’ve heard stories about what they forced people do during the war.

So she fled the camp amidst the fighting, letter in hand, running all the way from the agricultural district to the city center, and there we were.

Once satisfied, I walked up to the table next to her booth, and unfolded my copy of newspaper.

Her expression never faltered when I approached, or when I started speaking under the cover of the paper and the buzzing of the restaurant. We exchanged only a few words, but I learned enough to make my decision.

I remembered questioning myself even as I got up to leave. Was I too brash in accepting this? Fintan and I had been out of touch for quite some time. I had no way of knowing whether she was still loyal to the kingdom, though in my heart I believed it.

And in her years of her new career, who’s to say she had gone soft? Was it not possible that this stray cat she sent my way had fooled her?

[He smiled. I was surprised by this expression, not because Mr. Hunt never smiled during our meetings. Quite the opposite. He smiled often, but it was the first real smile since we met.]

Well, she didn’t make a mistake. Nor did I.

She remained, to this day, one of the most successful and outstanding special agents in the history of the Whisper Corp. Some of her achievements you will hear when the government published our mission records, and some you will learn, perhaps, as you traverse Remnant, the land which she and many others like her dedicated their lives to protect, and hear from the people who were touched by their bravery.

Chapter Text

 Colonel Sherry Mortensen was captain of the 774-Alpha Company, a regular unit with no Huntsmen, during the war. After the war ended, she continued serving in the army and became a professional soldier. Her current unit was tasked with peacekeeping and assisting in the reconstruction of the rural villages.

Not many of us stayed with the army after the crisis was over. It’s understandable. Everyone wanted to go home, or rebuilt it, or find a new one altogether. I saw a lot of people I used to know on my tour around the kingdom.

You probably know already, army in our kingdom is more like an extra police force. The government only recruits when absolutely necessary. System like this has its merits and drawbacks, and we saw both during this war.

It’s easy to be set into a certain way of thinking when you are stuck in a place without many - or any for that matter - other competing ideologies. I guess some of the professional soldiers still thought they were supposed to be the protectors of our kingdom, the only great force to guard the motherland. Well, not anymore.

Ask around, see who do people think are the heroes of this world. Nine out of ten will answer, “Huntsmen.” And they will be right.

Many of the people who helped us during the war were local, even international celebrities. People admired their cause, their skill, and even their fashion senses. It’s not a problem to most people. We were only too happy to look up to those idols and rely on them.

That didn’t sit well with some of the big boys.

Out of the few who did have a problem with Huntsmen, General Harris Whitehurst was one of the most vicious and vocal. He was born a military man, as did every Whitehurst man and woman. If people didn’t bullshit me, their family used to be really powerful, like almost royal, you know?

Anyway, just a bit of background. After the Great War and the disbandment of the army, his family wasn’t doing that well anymore, both with money and power. So I guess it’s understandable that he was a traditionalist who abhorred the entire contract soldier idea. Maybe he thought it was his duty to prove to the world we don’t need Huntsmen. Who knows?

There were people who shared his sentiment, but after the failure of the Assault of Beacon, many of them traditionalists shut up about it. But not Whitehurst. No, he continued putting pressure on the government.

I honestly don’t know how he survived in pre-war Vale without driving himself mad, if he despised Huntsmen that much. You know what he did?

[Without waiting for an answer, she started again.]

Putting Huntsmen on street patrol duty. Abolishing the guilds. Taking down all mission centers. That’s what. And yeah, let's not forget. Operation Patchwork.

[She spat to the ground on the side.]

Disgust. When the order came down that we are going to try taking Patch back without the Huntsmen, I felt disgusted .

The official statement was that the operation was to “test the improved weaponries so they may be deployed in future missions.” What a blatant lie. Everyone knew the General was desperate to regain supports after his latest campaign against the Huntsmen failed. His allies all bailed on him.

Maybe he thought by retaking Patch without the help of Huntsmen, he could turn the table. I don’t know and I don’t care. The only feeling I had about him was disgust.

And I wasn’t the only one. Everyone was furious about the decision. Not just those who came from Patch and were eager to reclaim their homes. Not just the soldiers who were practically handed a death sentence. Everyone. I’m honestly surprised how the general didn’t get shot dead before the mission started.

I met Lieutenant Colonel Seymour before the war. You know, the commander of Battalion 428? The one where the famous “Dragon’s Fiery” served in during the war? Anyway, it wasn’t until we bumped into each other in a bar and discussed our opinions on whether Huntsmen and trainees should be allowed to join the army, that we became close friends.

When the order came through, I knew I’d find him in the bar again. Probably in a bad mood. I was right. And he somehow looked more pissed than I was.

[“Why is that? His unit didn’t get drafted for the operation.”]

That’s exactly why. I think he’s upset for his crew’s sake. The Dragon’s hometown was in Patch, remember. But I didn’t go there to share his anger. Well, not exactly.

I told him my unit was going to be shipped off for the operation.

He gave me a look. A look for someone who’s surely going to die. That’s exactly what I thought too. I didn’t think I would make it.

[“But you did.”]

A fool’s luck.

[“I’m sorry?”]

You heard me right. I survived because I was a damn fool. [She laughed when she saw my confusion.] You read the file, right? Tell me what you know about it.

[“Well.” I hesitated. “It said Battalion 774 led the assault.”]

And? What did it say about the weapons we carried?

[“Each battalion was given four different types of weapons in addition to their regular equipment. Dust rifles, manned robots, hand grenades, and mortars. Your unit was using the manned robots?”]

Damn straight. And that’s what saved my skin.

[“I don’t follow.”]

I’ll let you in on a little secret. [Her lips twisted into a bitter smile.] My unit wasn’t supposed to use that.

[“What?”]

[She looked away for a moment.]

The night before the operation began, I was drinking with other captains serving Battalion 774, Aylmer, Hochberg, and Lahti. The whole battalion was getting the front row seats of this shit show, meaning we were as good as dead. So, being the wuss that we were, we decided to spend our last night on Remnant drinking our miseries away.

I don’t even remember how many bottles we drank when Hochberg suddenly suggested we play some poker. Well, that in itself wasn’t anything noteworthy, but what’s strange was what we’re betting.

Not money. What good are those gonna be if we’ll probably all die tomorrow? He suggested we use poker to decide whose unit would get which weapon.

Before you ask, no, we were not supposed to switch just like that. But we didn’t care. Our commanding officer certainly wouldn’t care. He was already passed out at the corner when the game commenced. The next day he didn’t even bother to see who came to pick up what equipment. We signed those out ourselves.

Anyway, being half in the bag at that point, I agreed without questioning further. I ended up losing and got the manned robots.

[“What happened after?”]

…have you guessed why they wanted to play that poker game?

[I shook my head.]

Well. Here’s why.

Hochberg’s unit was supposed to have the manned robot suits. Somehow he discovered those units were faulty. So he came up with a plan to swap. He convinced Aylmer and Lahti to help him, and they set me up.

[“Why didn’t he just go and tell your commanding officer the suits didn’t work and get them replaced?”]

Because even if the suits were working, they wouldn’t increase their chance of survival. But do you know what will? [Her face contorted slightly.]

Something to distract the Grimm - someone who’s helpless. Someone who’s afraid. [Suddenly, her expression became unreadable. She whispered.]

Bait.

[I was at a loss of words, and Colonel Mortensen looked through me with empty eyes. We remained silent for several long minutes, until she started again. This time with gritted teeth.]

General Whitehurst insisted “the military had learned from the mistake of the Assault of Beacon”.

Learned the mistake my ass. They learned nothing. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Bunch of idiots, if you ask me. Seriously, who told that moron the weapons we bought from Atlas twenty years ago were enough? Who agreed to that stupid idea of not allowing Huntsmen to be on that mission?

If anyone truly believed we would be better off without the Huntsmen, maybe they deser-

[She stopped abruptly.]

…no. That wasn’t fair.

Despite their idiocracy, nobody deserved to experience that hell. Nobody should have to watch their friends and families be clawed to a bloody mess. Nobody should have to suffer from being eaten alive. Not us, not them.

…not even the bastards who tried to set me up so they could run away. [She took a deep breath.] Because you know what? Most of my unit survived. Somehow, the Grimm chose to ignore us. Chose to ignore the helpless prey right in front of them.

Who knows? Maybe they thought the meat would be too difficult to get to inside the thick metals. Or maybe… maybe there was negativity stronger than our fear. Our anger.

None of the three captains, whom I used to think were my friends, survived that battle. I think they were the first ones to go, but I’m not sure. I was a bit preoccupied with saving my guys.

[“Do you hate them for what they have done?”]

Do I? I ask myself that often, but I can never truly decide. I think… If anyone is to blame, I think I’m gonna blame it on the people playing the power game.

They should have never gotten involved in war affairs. While the rest of the world struggled to survive, they continued living in comfort and safety. Maybe that’s why they still had the mind to continue their game of power. Maybe that’s why some of them didn’t hesitate to send thousands of soldiers to die just to prove a point, and why the others didn’t stop them. With failure of this magnitude, they could easily eliminate their competitors.

They said Vale is a liberal kingdom. They said we are free, strong, and advanced. They weren’t wrong, but they didn’t see the whole picture either.

With the freedom and power came the corruption. You’d think that at the face of a common enemy, those idiots would learn to put aside their little games and unite to deal with the crisis. No. They thought they were so untouchable that they must hold on to their agenda.

If not for them, there wouldn’t be an Operation Patchwork. If not for them, maybe those three captains wouldn’t pull that scheme. If not for them...

[She stopped again.]

It’s such a relief when the government reformed after that disaster. I have a feeling that if they didn’t, the whole kingdom would be in revolution, and then we’d have a civil war on top of a war against the Grimm.

For one thing, the reformed government abolished all the restriction for Huntsmen - trainees or not - to volunteer for the army. They even passed that War Contract bill, so those who signed up wouldn’t have to worry about anything. The enlisted were there for one purpose, and that’s all they had to focus on.

[The War Contract, or Bill 673-A, legalizes the army to recruit Huntsmen and trainees with all races, genders, nationalities and backgrounds. Prejudicial treatment based on the listed categories is a criminal offense and can result in large sums of fine, labor hours, community service, or in rare circumstances, death. It is also notable for the mandatory insurance provided to the soldiers. Namely, any succeeding family members of the soldiers KIA will receive monthly payment equal to the soldier’s salary for thirty years, not including additional allowance for elders and children.]

It took away a lot of the concerns for the solo Huntsmen too. Since the contract is binding only as long as we’re in war with the Grimm, they didn’t have to worry about whether they’d have to fight for this kingdom indefinitely. And they even specified, “war with Grimm”. I think that’s the deal-maker.

If, Gods forbid, the kingdoms turned on each other once the fighting with Grimm was done, they could just up and leave. You know? I think that’s the biggest concern for some of them.

[She took out a cigarette and asked if I minded. I said I don’t. She lit one up and took a long draw.]

From a strategic viewpoint, Operation Patchwork was a complete failure, but I believe there were good things that came out of it.

For one, our failure paved the way for the Cobblestone Assault. The commanders actually woke the fuck up and learned what to look out for. They based their strategies on all the things that went horribly wrong during the first try.

Another important thing was that it brought on the much needed changes. They could have come sooner, but later was still better than never.

[She huffed. For a few seconds, I couldn’t see her face behind the veil of white smoke. I could only hear her whispering.]

How stupid. Even with the Grimm tearing the world apart, some people remained fixated on their personal gain.

Didn’t they see? The war wouldn’t prove who’s right, only who’s left.

Chapter Text

I could not reach Professor Glynda Goodwitch for an interview, but I received a package from Beacon Academy few days after the call. It contained several pages of neatly handwritten notes. They did not exactly answer my questions regarding the March of Ice, the first international operation, as well as the first official communication between two kingdoms since the beginning of the war. However, they did provide rare insights to events that contributed to its existence. They also revealed otherwise unknowable information regarding some of the most notable figures of the era

May 20, Q.A. 82

Qrow made quite an entrance last night. He is as insufferable as ever, but at the very least, he brought some good news.

It is a relief to know Ozpin is alive, and that the Guardians stays operational. Of course, he has to stay hidden from the public eyes for the time being, lest the Vindicate learn of his survival. Still, this news has shone a ray of hope over the despair clouding the city.

Today ended with another grievous development. The south-west border of the kingdom fell. Over 75% of the Agriculture District now became infested by Grimm. Several Huntsmen sustained serious injuries, including Bartholomew. He may never be able to see again.

Before last night, there seemed to be no hope for the future. Our struggles appeared purposeless and futile. Many had already reached their breaking points, resigning to what they considered inevitable destruction of humanity and civilizations. I am ashamed to say this, but deep down I agreed with them, and I would likely fall into the same forlorn darkness before long.

Now, the knowledge of our allies out there, fighting to bring back the peace and prosperity renewed my resolution to carry on. If I cannot fight alongside them, at the very least, I shall honor them by holding on to the hope, however small it is, and fight until I draw my last breath.

August 5, Q.A. 82

After the recent failure of Operation Patchwork, the wind of revolution stirred within the kingdom of Vale. Few nights ago, when the kingdom mourned for the lost soldiers, General Whitehurst was found dead with a bullet hole on his forehead. There was no evidence of foul play, and the police believed the General had taken his own life. Perhaps the man felt it was the only way to atone for the miseries he had caused, or perhaps he knew there would be nothing left for him in this kingdom. EIther way, there is no point speculating now.

After his death, the league of totalitarians dissolved and the government reformed. General Lloyd Prince assumed command of the units originally under General Whitehurst, in addition to the Whisper Corp, though the existence of the existence of the elusive agents of the shadow remains but a rumor to the general public.

I do wish he will do a better job at separating political agendas from the war effort. It is to my understanding that several Beacon graduates (and undergraduates) have been recruited by them. Should they choose to force my students to become tools for their personal gain, I will make them regret being born. This I vow.

On a lighter note, Bartholomew’s condition has improved further this month. The Medics [*] believe he may be discharged from extensive care within the next few days. However, I will stand by my decision of banning him from the front line. He shall work exclusively with the Scholars [*] for the time being, at least until he learns how to fight without sight.

I will do everything within my power to ensure the well-beings of my students and colleagues. As Beacon’s acting headmistress, it is now not only my desire, but also my sworn duty to protect them.

[*: Headmaster Ozpin never publicly spoke about the Guardian, the secret brotherhood he wardened over. Much about the organization was pure speculation. It is assumed here that the Medics and the Scholars mentioned in this journey entry are two of the branches. And while one can infer their functions, the true nature of their structures remain unknown.]

September 17, Q.A. 82

Even though the rumor of Ozpin’s death has been circulating within the borders of the four kingdoms for well over a year now, this is the first time Beacon makes a public statement regarding the matter. I suspect Ozpin has been well aware of this, and has planned to “confirm” the supposition from the very beginning. It did not elude my mind that he might have even been monitoring our morale from afar, something that many would consider suspicious and manipulative. However, it is not my place to doubt his judgements and decisions.

That being said, I still resent him for assigning me the task of public relation and leadership, regardless of whether they are only temporary. I have not the requirements. I possess no charisma or wisdom to inspire or encourage others. It filled me with dread to be standing on the podium, making that speech, and witnessing the distress settling on the faces of the audience, all the while knowing I have deceived them.

I imagine he would dismiss my disapproval with a calm smile. “What they do not know will protect, not hurt them.” I can almost hear his voice, amused in the awfully admirable way that makes me wish I have the recklessness to slap him on the back of his head.

In most circumstances, his advice provides all the assurance one would need. Not today. Not when I looked at all their faces. Perhaps the magic failed because it lacked the magician. Or perhaps the illusion shattered simply because of the collective awareness of the people gathered there. I thought I was prepared for the congregation, but it exceeded my expectation.

For one thing, I certainly did not anticipate the attendance from so many of my students. Their presence suggested they are faring relatively well (though regrettably not well enough to my liking), and it brings some small comfort to know they still hold their duties as Huntsmen in such high regard. Small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

I recognize every one of them. Mr. Rundstrom, Mr. Aksoy, Mr. Gorman, Ms. Leblanc, Mr. Rigo, Ms. Schwarz, Ms. Xiao Long, and many others.

I would like to learn about how all of them have been doing, both physically and mentally, but it is perhaps too ambitious. That being said, there are some in particular that I am concerned of. Specifically, those who were present during the attack, and those who endured great suffering from the worst battles of this war thus far. I must remember to keep an eye on them.

As I recall each of their faces and names, memories of their respective times at Beacon replayed themselves in my mind. I can see clearly. Their embarrassments of getting caught passing notes in classes. The crazy ideas of team attack that didn’t always turn out like planned. The hushed whispers beyond the door of their door rooms past curfew. The midnight calls during exam season when they forgot the time and the librarians didn’t check the entire building before locking the doors. And of course, the food fights that destroyed large portions of the cafeteria.

I must confess that, while most of those events annoyed the staff (myself included) to no end as they happen, they feel… endearing, in our memories. I wish I could have taught them more when I still had the chance, before the war was forced on them. I wish I did better in conveying the knowledge, the skill, and the training they need to survive.

I wish that, after this war ends, I will see many of them back in the classroom again.

Undecimber 4, Q.A. 82

James arrived a few days ago. Things have been quite hectic since, and I have not the time to sit down and record the events until this very moment.

I was surprised when they phoned me at four in the morning, reporting a lone Atlesian airship landing on the outskirt of the Industrial District, and of James requesting a meeting with the Beacon staff. This reunion came so unexpectedly I feared it was only a dream, until I saw the smile spread across his tired face and felt his calloused hand on my shoulder.

He explained that Atlas was able to spare some resources and manpower, partially due to the lessening Grimm attack (thanks to the second most severe winter storm in the recent fifty years), and partially because of the insistence by several influential individuals. I have no doubt that one of them is Ms. Schnee.

Some of the councilmen remained suspicious of their motives, but fortunately we were able to persuade them to have more faith in the Atlesian assistance. Although, to be honest, I do not believe we have the luxury to not accept their generosity. The military supports, and perhaps more importantly, the technical aids to reconstruct the CCT tower (as well as building a more reliable temporary communication system before the fallen tower is reclaimed), are just too valuable to refuse.

Maybe, the councilmen hesitated in putting their trust because it seemed too good to be true. To some extent, I agree it is a tad difficult to believe we are this fortunate to receive help, especially after almost three years of solitude and the stream of despair and hardship.

James and his soldiers set up camp near the Beacon headquarter. I am fairly certain the arrangement was made so that we, the Vale Huntsmen, could monitor their every movement and respond promptly should they wish to bring any harms. The notion seems foolish, but I suppose it cannot be helped, if it assures the councilmen.

I had a meeting with James last night. I informed him of Ozpin’s survival and the activities of the Guardians in the distant land. He seemed pleasantly surprised. Hope and relief washed over his expression as the weariness in his smile dissipated. He agreed to keep our exchange to himself, but I suspect he would not be able to hide his elation at all. He is always straightforward with his emotions.

January 16, Q.A. 82

Another attempt will be made to reclaim Patch. The leadership felt strongly of the success this time.

The Atlesian army, the Beacon Huntsmen, as well as the Vale Councilmen were all present in the meeting last week. I expected all participants except for one, Ms. Schnee.

I wonder how she had convinced her father to let her leave the protection of Atlas and return to Vale. Adolf Schnee is notorious for his stubbornness and ruthlessness when it came to his family. It seemed unlikely he would allow the heiress of his empire to travel abroad in such troubling time. But then again, she did come to Beacon prior to the war.

In fact, we were not the only people there. I believe some of the Huntsmen caught glimpses of our “hidden security” as well. I had the good fortune to find Ms. Belladonna before she could slip away, and it pleased me to know that she has not been mistreated in her current organization.

I informed her of the whereabouts of Ms. Xiao Long, hoping she would jump at the opportunity to pay her a visit some time, but she looked hesitant. I suppose it is reasonable for her to be concerned of the potential danger that might follow. After all, the White Fang did put a hefty price on her head, and an even more alluring one if she is alive.

Of course, her current co-workers will never betray her to the terrorists, but I do worry about the desperate citizens who might recognize her walking down the street. She seemed slightly surprised when I cautioned her to stay vigilant, but thanked me politely anyway.

I wonder what sort of impression I left in my students? Do they all think of me as a cold, distant instructor? They are not exactly wrong, I suppose. I care not whether they find me too difficult as a teacher, as long as they survive this war and come out of it in one piece.

Or perhaps I do care, but it is less important than making sure they are well equipped and well trained for the future battle. In any case, I will never regret my decision of being strict and stern.

January 20, Q.A. 82

[The last page is not a journal entry. It's a newspaper clip.]

Terrorists Disrupted Peace Speech

Terrorist attack interrupted a peaceful speech by Weiss Schnee, current heiress of the Schnee Dust Company. Fortunately, nobody was hurt. The terrorists were quickly dispelled and arrested by the army and the police.

Civilians expressed their worries that the attack would hinder the efforts for the two kingdoms to join force and repel Grimm.

“I don’t care about what they are thinking,” says a woman who went to the speech to express gratitude to the Atlesian support. “Didn’t we have enough to worry about from the Grimm? We should welcome Atlas with open arms. Take your racisms home where nobody care. Stop dragging people down to suffer with you.”

Representatives from the Atlesian government and the SDC arrived two weeks ago. The government announced the Kingdom of Iron and Ice had visited Vale with friendly intention. Earlier this week, officials from both kingdoms joined in a secret meeting. It is rumored that military support treaties and trade agreements were among the topics discussed. Some were worried that the Atlesian government would view this incident as a declaration of war.

Black Blood, the Human-based anti-Faunus terrorist organization, claimed responsibility of the attack.

“The Schnee should be the ones leading our crusade against those animals!” The terrorists insisted in the video they sent to us. “But they betrayed us, and death shall be the punishment for the traitors!”

The government refused to make any comments, and the spokesman from the Vale police did not confirm the identity nor the intention of the criminals.

“The incident is still under investigation,” Cohen Huber, the spokesman of the Vale police said. “We will continue searching for the true perpetrators, and make sure they answer for this atrocity.”

We were able to reach Ms. Schnee after the incident. She voiced her displeasure regarding the attack.

“The attack today is a cowardly, distasteful act of the extremists.” She told our reporter. “I don’t claim to understand their reasonings and justifications, and I don’t wish to. However, I do want to emphasize the necessity for all Human and Faunus to unite against our true enemy, the Grimm.”

When asked about her family’s enmity against the Faunus, Ms. Schnee responded with the following.

“There were abuses and mistreats between my family and the Fauna race. It may not be my place to judge who was right and who was wrong, but it is my desire to rebuild the bridge between the two races. I care not what people will think of my attempt. Someone dear to my heart once told me, ‘When the world says, give up! There will be a voice whispering gently, try it one more time. That is hope.’ I do not intend to give up, no matter how hopeless it seems. After all, that is why we are all still fighting.”

[Underneath the article is a short line. It appeared to be Ms. Goodwitch’s handwriting.]

United we stand, divided we fall. Things severed shall be united and shall acquire of themselves such virtue that they shall restore to men their lost memory.

Chapter Text

Ebony Devlin is a proud member of the Vale Police Department. He was still training at the Royal College of Justice when the war broke out. Like other undergraduates, Mr. Devlin devoted himself to helping the city by voluntarily patrolling the streets, tending to the sick and injured, and caring for the orphans and elders. As recognition to their contribution, the law enforcement established the Junior Constable division and officially recruited those young men and women during the spring of Q.A. 82.

Despite years passing by, and the original members having long graduated from the academy, the division is still active today. Their post-war duties consisted mainly of restoration and repair projects. It was during one such trip that I met Mr. Devlin. He was kind enough to invite me along, and share his story.

Some said the March of Ice was the turning point of the war, that the Atlesian support saved Vale.

I disagree.

[“Why is that?”]

Oh, I probably gave you the wrong impression, didn’t I?

Their aids reminded us that we were not in this alone, that we still had allies who were willing to work with us for survival. In fact, I believe the reconstruction of the CCT was the main reason we were able to win the war.

But the assistance from Atlas was only the fuel. In my humble opinion, what really ignited the flame of hope vary from person to person. For me and many others, the Cobblestone Assault was the spark that ignited the fuel, and set ablaze the never-ending flame in our hearts.

[A Beowolf wandered into view. Mr. Devlin dispatched it swiftly with his rifle and turned back to me, as if he was just driving off a fly.]

I was born and raised at Patch. My parents moved there from the city after they got married. Mom taught art and dad worked for the government. They never expected me to be a fighter, but I suppose that's one of the traits you gain growing up surrounded by dangers.

Before I graduated from Signal Academy, the farthest I’d gone from home was Vale’s Industrial District. As a young boy, I always yearned for the chance to go to the big city, to see the crowded streets and the lively markets. But no matter how desperate I was to experience those wonders, Patch is the only place that’ll always call to me. I love the island, the people, the forest, and the wildlife.

Some people joke about how much we love our home island, that we’d boast about what a wonderful place it was despite spending our childhood being chased by Grimm when we went out to play. They weren’t exactly wrong. We islanders are proud of our home. And no matter how much we envied the city folks for all the convenience they took for granted, or the most modern, advanced products all the city kids got to use, Patch was, is, and will always, be our true home.

Most of the Patch kids knew each other growing up, even if they lived miles away from one another. I’ve known Yang since before we became real classmates at Signal. We used to play together when we were old enough to be outside by ourselves.

The Xiao Long household was deep in the forest, so it’s usually Yang who came to our village. I always wondered why they lived so far away from the community, but I never questioned it. It just didn’t seem that important.

For kids like us, the distance was nothing. We were raised to travel far without breaking a sweat. Hiking for an hour or two to reach our destination was common. The exercise was never a problem, and what the city folks considered wilderness - the forests, the meadows, even the cliffs - they were our playgrounds.

Of course, our parents taught us well about the dangers lurking in the shadow. We knew by heart where the Grimm infested territories were. We learned the fluctuation of said territories before we were taught how to read. And we knew better than to venture into those lands adults forbade us to go. That’s not to say some of the more daring kids didn’t try to sneak a peek or two, but it’s always from afar. Or at least always with a Huntsmen guarding us.

We were only allowed to travel the less stable path after we built our weapons and learned how to fight. But even as we grew more confident, we knew the differences between testing our abilities and looking for troubles. So we generally avoided the deep woods. Too many places to get ambushed.

The only people I knew who walked among the trees, like it was the most natural thing to do, were Yang and her little sister Ruby. It probably helped that they grew up in the middle of nowhere and that their dad and uncle were Huntsmen.

Some people thought they were weird and avoided them. Some people were jealous of their fighting skill. Me? I don’t care what what people said. They would always be the coolest kids on the island. My heroes.

And despite what people thought of them and their families, everyone respected the sisters. Not just because their father and uncle could beat up everyone else’s father and uncle if they wanted to. Nor was it because of their Huntsmen heritage. Those kinds of things got people’s attention, sure, but it was because of how noble and brave and strong they were, that the island kids admired them.

[We stopped when I was overcome with exhaustion trying to keep up. Mr. Devlin agreed to my suggestion easily and handed me his water bottle. I took a huge gulp before asking him to describe the sisters in more details. It’s not really part of our agreement, but I was curious.]

Certainly. [He smiled and leaned back against a tree.] Yang is, well, Yang. She's confident for good reasons. Not only because she kicked asses… she’s gorgeous, too. I'm pretty sure half of the boys in our school had a crush on her at some point. And maybe even some girls. She just… draws people in, with that easy smile and natural charm…

She wasn't afraid of letting you know what she thought, and if she had to get the point across by beating the shit out of you, she's got no problem with that. [He chuckled.] Some people hated her guts, but others loved her for it. The most amazing thing, I guess, was that even the people who got a problem with her still got along with her.

Yang is usually pretty chill about things in general. She could take a joke directed at her, her actions, her thoughts, pretty much anything, but you'd be a fool to speak ill of her families. Her parents, and especially her little sister, are off limits.

There’s this guy who picked on Ruby when she first got into Signal. Yang gave him a limp that lasted almost a full year. Needless to say, he’s the first and last person who dared making fun of the little Rose in front of Yang.

As for Ruby, she’s a sweet kid. She could be a bit self-aware and awkward from time to time, but believe me when I tell you this, it’s really adorable.

She wasn’t exactly noticeable in the crowd, but once you get to know her, she really grows on you. You learned to love her not as “Yang’s baby sister”, but as a fellow trainee. Someone who’s got big dreams and a lovable personality.

All of Yang’s friends liked Ruby, though we didn’t exactly hang out all the time. Ruby’s got her own circle of friends as well.

But it’s always fun to spend time with both of them. They’re really similar in many aspects - both are kind and brave, and both are badass fighters - although you’d never guess those two are related.

I still remember the first time Yang introduced her to us. We all thought she was joking when she proudly announced this odd kid with streaks of red in the messy black hair was the baby sister she wouldn’t shut up about.

It took a bit of both verbal and physical convincing in Yang’s part to persuade us she’s being serious. Now that I think about it, maybe that’s why Ruby was always a bit shy and awkward around us. [He smiled.] I mean, it wasn’t exactly the first impression you’d want to give people, having your big sister screaming in rage and swinging her deadly fists at anyone who said something wrong.

But we were at fault, too. We didn’t know how foolish we were acting by laughing at them for their physical differences. We probably didn’t give the best first impression either.

[His smile faded and he fell silent. After several long seconds of no response, I asked. “Does that bother you that much?”]

Huh? Oh, sorry about that. [He looked into the distance before quietly responded.] ...yeah, I suppose it does. I mean, it just didn’t sit well with me, considering what happened recently. I kept thinking back to what I could have done different. Not much, probably, but I’d rest easier knowing I didn’t contribute to Ruby’s suffering.

Again, let me emphasize how much we islanders are tied together. We may not always see eye-to-eye with each other, but we are forever bonded by this land.

It didn’t matter which family name we carry, who we befriend, or what we become. We are, and will always remain, the Keepers of the Forest [*].

[*: This title was originally given to the settlers by the Vale royal hundreds of years ago, as recognitions to their fearless spirits to explore the uninhabited island.]

Regardless of where our paths lead us, Patch is the only place we return to. Growing up, we all felt the calling to be a fighter in one way or another. Most of the people I grew up with went to Signal, even though only very few of us were capable of becoming Huntsmen. I myself never got admitted to Beacon, but I expected the rejection from the beginning.

[I was feeling okay again, so we continued with the patrol. I asked gingerly after a few minutes, “Did it have to be Beacon?” He smiled humorlessly.]

It did occur to me that I can apply to other academies. Haven, Shade, even Atlas. I cannot deny the temptation to at least try. But, maybe I wasn’t strong enough to leave the nest, I longed to stay. That’s how I ended up in the Royal College of Justice.

It was the same with most of us who didn’t make it to Beacon. We didn’t want to be too far away. It’s rare for someone to even relocate to another city, let alone another kingdom.

It must sound strange to you. Most of the city folks never understand when we speak of our connection to our homeland. And maybe it is strange to be so attached. But it doesn’t matter, because I’m glad we are the we are. If not, I doubt there would be so many of us present during the Cobblestone Assault.

[We stopped again when we heard growlings from the forest. Mr. Devlin radioed for backups. Few minutes later, the low grumble escalated into furious howls, before the forest became quiet again. A Huntress emerged from the bushes and waved a clear signal at us, before disappearing into the shadows again. Mr. Devlin turned to me, half distracted.]

Where was I?

[“The Cobblestone Assault.”]

Ah. Yes. The Cobblestone Assault. I can still remember it like it was yesterday.

I’ve never seen anything burning brighter than Yang that day. I doubt I ever will. She lived up to her namesake, like the combined fury of a dragon and the sun. Anyone there that day would tell you her nickname - Dragon’s Fiery - was well earned.

[He checked the clip in the rifle.] I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start from when we were on the airship.

At first, the army didn’t want volunteers. It’s a military operation, and they were reasonable to reject the untrained. Allowing people who didn’t know what they were doing to stand on the battlefield could be costly. There could be more casualties. We could hinder the mission. And worse, it could jeopardize the whole operation. They only relented after the volunteers threatened to “find a goddamn airship ourselves and take back our land.”

We weren’t supposed to do that. I know. It made a bad example. But we didn’t really care then. Patch is our home, and we’d be damned if we can’t actively contribute to reclaiming it from the Grimm.

The ride was tense, quiet, and extremely awkward. The volunteers and the soldiers kept away from each other, mostly because we didn’t know what to say or how to act. There was no joke, no pep talk, no nothing. We sat quietly with our people at the two opposite sides of the cargo bay, waiting for the airship to arrive at the designated location, and for the mission to start.

But then, out of nowhere, Yang rose from the crowd, and marched onto the podium.

She looked different. At first, I couldn’t quite put my fingers on what it was. She was still wearing that short leather jacket and the orange scarf that sort of became her trademarks in Signal. I thought maybe it was because they looked weathered and discolored, like she’s been through hell. Judging by the amount of stories involving her, I think that’s not far from the truth.

I remember nudging the girl next to me when I first noticed.

“Hey, look!” I could barely contain my surprise and excitement. “It’s Yang!”

I didn’t really know my companion that well. Morana, I think that’s her name. She was a few years younger if memory serves. I knew of her existence, and I would recognize her name if it’s given in a multiple choice question, but beyond that, we had no connection.

There were hushed whispers all around us. The islanders recognized Yang immediately. Some of the soldiers did, too, but they were more confused than excited. They didn’t know what she’s capable of, even though I’m sure she’s already pretty famous in the army - nah, just famous in general, because of the Vytal Festival broadcast.

I think everybody there saw the broadcast, or at least had heard about it from other people.

[He stopped and turned to look at me with slightly narrowed eyes.]

Oh, by the way. We didn’t believe Yang really broke that silver-haired dude’s leg for no good reason. [Before I could explain I was just as confused about the cause of that incident, he carried on.]

Yang may be hot-headed, but she was a noble warrior. Most of us agreed it’s gotta be foul play.

I say most of us, because some argued it’s possible - possible , not likely - that the guy did something to Ruby, and Yang just lost it.

I didn’t buy that theory. I mean, come on. Unless he somehow destroyed that ridiculously intimidating scythe, nobody could touch Ruby. She might have been two years younger than the rest of her classmates at Beacon, but she was deceptively strong.

When the initial excitement of seeing a friend eventually wore out, I realized something wasn’t quite right.

Ruby wasn’t there.

Why wasn’t she there? Did something really happen to her? I felt uneasy. We had all lost so much already in that damn war. Looking at her then was like seeing that night again, when the Grimm poured in from the border, and the sky lit up with the burning city…

[He shuddered.]

I put that nightmare aside when Yang cleared her throat. All eyes fell on her. We forgot about the awkwardness between us. Everybody gathered around. And that’s when I noticed…

The thing that didn’t look quite right wasn’t Yang’s outfit. It was her right hand.

Cheap metal replaced flesh. You could hear the gears grinding with each movement she made. Occasionally, the limb jerked at odd directions, a common glitch of the low-grade prosthetics the army supplied to their handicapped soldiers.

I remember wondering who could have done that. Was it the Black Blood, the White Fang, or the Grimm? My heart sank as I pondered the answer. I had heard rumors of powerful individuals in the terrorist organizations, and of new species of Grimm emerging from the shadow. Was it that bad? Were they really that strong, and that heartless that they could cut off one of Yang’s arms?

Yang tapped the floor with her boots and rubbed her hands together, just like how she used to before we were about to pull a prank. She surveyed the room, nodding to every single person she knew. When it was my turn to make eye contact, all I could think of was fire. Bright, purple fire.

I felt blood boiling in my ears and my heart beating like battle drum. Adrenaline surged through my veins.

She raised her left hand. Her right arm dangled by her side, fingers curling and uncurling. She took a deep breath, and began in a low, somber voice.

“Eighteen months ago, I took the last airship that left Patch before the Grimm overran the island.”

Her voice cracked a bit when she said that, but she cleared her throat and put up a brave face. We islanders bowed our heads mournfully.

None of us will ever forget the day when the news reached our ears. I remember being let out of work much earlier that day after I broke down at the station. I sobbed like a lost child for hours. My colleagues took care of me, or tried to. I don’t really remember.

I recognized most of the names on the long list of people who didn’t make it. Some of them I had known since I was a toddler. They held a special place in my heart, like a scenery you never expected to change or disappear.

Of the five Huntsmen who sacrificed themselves to buy time for the airships to leave, two of them were teachers at Signal. I had gone to their classes, talked to them about my career, and even ate lunch with Professor Tai a couple times. It hit me hard when I learned he was gone.

“My father died that day with many others.” Her voice trembled. The bravado was cracking like ice in early spring. “After he passed, I felt hopeless. I didn’t know what to do, and I was drowning in my sorrow for weeks.”

The soldiers kind of just looked at each other, uneasy about where this seemed to be heading. A few tried to get up there and drag Yang from the stage. We stopped them.

There’s a reason Yang’s telling us this, and it’s not to make people panic. Yang’s a fighter. The very fact that she’s standing on that podium was proof that she didn’t give up. We pushed the protestors back. There were some shoving and heated words exchanged.

Yang looked at us, then looked at her right arm.

“It’s true that this world is falling into darkness.” She said. “I was there the night Beacon fell. I saw people in need crying for help, but I couldn’t do anything. I thought I could save my friend, but I ended up with this.”

She stopped abruptly. The soldiers were pushing harder back at us. We weren’t sure what to do.

Then suddenly, she laughed.

“...you know what? Actually it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

That threw the soldiers off, but I just smiled. I knew she wouldn’t give up. She continued with that playfulness I knew so well.

“I mean, now I have a chance to learn how to shoot a rocket from my hand the right way.” She winked. “Eh?”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed loud and hard. There she was, the old Yang from Signal. Not Dragon’s Fiery, not Huntress-in-training, just the plain old Yang who make terrible puns.

It wasn’t long before other islanders joined in. We laughed and laughed until we could barely stand. Until we were out of breath and tears streamed down our faces.

The soldiers looked at us in bewilderment, but said nothing. I think they thought we’re all crazy.

But that was Yang for you. The brawler who never pass up an opportunity to crack a bad joke. Her enthusiasm is like a fire that never ceased to burn.

“Hey, Yang!” Someone called out. “What about a flamethrower?”

She gasped dramatically, as if that was an insult.

“What? Did you already forget what I’m made of?” She grinned even wider and winked even harder, before she stuck a thumb at her chest proudly. “Ya looking at it, pal.”

The islanders hooted and cheered. The soldiers looked half amazed, half mortified. I don’t think they got the reference.

[He chuckled to himself.]

But seriously, it helped. Courage was even more difficult to come by than shelters and food those days. Most of us exhausted whatever stock we had long before that battle. We weren’t there because of bravery. We were there because we had to, because it’s our destiny to take back what belonged to us, or die trying.

Very few had what it takes to inspire others and lead them. It’s just too hard. But let me tell ya, having someone putting a hand on your shoulder and saying, “Hey, it’s gonna be alright” meant a whole lot more than people realize.

It sounded too simple to be true, but regular folks can’t comprehend what it’s like for the ones standing on the battlefield. They claimed they understand, but they don’t. You won’t be able to fully appreciate it unless you were one of those who had the responsibility to keep hundreds of thousands of people safe.

I don’t know if that’s what made me stood up. I just knew I was ready.

“So, we gonna burn them down?”

She beamed.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but that’s my plan alright. Imma burn those fuckers to ashes.”

“Then we shall follow you.” Bruno Mosconi - he was one of the people we used to hang out with back at Signal - struggled up and took a clip from his belt. I learned much later that he was with the Free Medics [*] when a Creep took a chunk out of his left leg only few weeks ago.

[*: The Free Medics was a group of civilian volunteers composed of certified doctors, nurses, and medical students. They provided free services to everyone who required their helps, no matter their races, occupations, or backgrounds. The army had, at one point, attempted to recruit them, but was refused. Over 70% of the volunteers died during the war. It was rumored that both the terrorists and the government contributed to this number.]

“I might not have a Semblance as cool as yours, but I got some fire Dust.” He smiled as he waved the clip in the air.

“That’s the spirit, Bruno!” She roared back with a rough laugh.

More people raised to their feet. With each that got up, her smile turned a bit more serious.

“I don’t know if I’ll live past today.” She admitted. “And I don’t know if any of you will.”

But it wasn’t her telling us we would fail.

The soldiers stopped trying to get her off the stage. We all drew closer to her, until we were gathered in a kind of semi-circle, with Yang being the center of it.

“But you know what? There’s one thing I know for sure.”

She turned towards the window and gazed into the distance, where our homes and memories laid in shamble.

“I ain’t gonna stop until I get it back.” She said quietly but firmly. “I ain’t gonna rest until everyone we lost are avenged.”

One moment her eyes were still the color of lavender, then the next they were a scorching red, shining bright with determination.

“I swear to Oum and everything under the sun. If I’m to die today, I’ll die after setting all my enemies on hell’s inferno.”

“You won’t be alone.” Aridai - another one in our gang - raised an arm with tears in her eyes.

“Aye!” Yedid - we didn’t exactly hang out with him back then, but he’s a good lad - put his hand up as well. “Imma quote the old lullaby, ‘if we should die tonight, we should all die together’.”

One. Five. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. All the islanders.

A hundred. Two-fifty. Four. I lost count. Everybody.

Yang looked back to us.

“Brothers.” She said.

“Sisters!” I felt my eyes welling up.

“Are you ready to fight?”

One of the officers barged in and halted with wide eyes. He must have thought we were rebelling or something. His jaw slackened when we all responded with the most powerful “Aye!” I have ever heard in my life.

“Are you ready to face the enemies that took away our homes,” she gestured angrily at the general direction of Patch. There was a flash of fury and anguish when she shouted, “and the lives of so many good people?”

“Aye!”

“Are you ready?” She bellowed. “Are you ready to die?”

“Yeah!”

“Are you ready to burn with me?”

There’s only one thing to say. A simple ‘yes’ just wouldn’t do the job anymore. So instead, we said, “hell yeah!”

“Then let’s do this!” She barked and activated her Semblance. The cargo bay became boiling hot, but the heat didn’t bother any of us.

Maybe it was because we were feeling the fever ourselves. We erupted in an uproar.

Just then, the trapdoor opened and we saw it all. Our lost homeland. The darkness awaiting eagerly. But most important of all, we saw the flame enveloping Yang. We witnessed the birth of the Dragon’s Fiery.

Too many things happened at the same time. The crowd started singing an ancient folk-song, one about a banished dragon and the heroes who challenged the monster. The officer who barged in yelling out orders. Yang shot toward the exit, ignoring everything and everyone. We charged after her.

[His pace slowed as he looked up to something I couldn’t see. There was a small smile gracing his hardened features.]

I’ll never forget that day. Not a single moment of it.

I’ll always remember the day the dragon was awoken. How she hurled herself out of the plane with a fierce roar. How we followed her with abandon, all screaming our own battle cries. I’ll remember every single enemy I struck down, all those moments when death was hair’s width away, and how we faced it with courage.

[He stopped completely and pointed. My eyes followed where he gestured. It was the monument built after the war ended to remember those who had fallen on the island. I didn’t realize we were already back at the airport.]

This is where we landed, where Yang crushed the first enemy when she touched down. The poor creature was incinerated on impact.

They say this is also where the Huntsmen died when Patch fell. I don’t know if that’s entirely true. After all, the scorch mark left by Professor Tai stretched over 50 kilometers square [*].

[*: This number was estimated by scientists with witness accounts and measurements. However, the exact number was still hotly debated to this date.]

Anyway, we stormed the airport, or what’s left of it. The forward teams pressed on like mad dogs. The rearguards - I was one of them - could barely keep up.

Did you know the commanders specifically arranged the formation so that all the Patch Huntsmen and trainees were assigned to the forward teams? Did you know that other Patch-born were put in the rears with regular soldiers? They made damn sure we got the front row seats for the show. Somebody who studied wars and strategies probably figured letting the most enthusiastic bunch leading the attack would boost our morale or something.

Well. guess what? It actually worked better than they expected. The operation was overwhelmingly successful. Victory came more easily than anyone could have imagined. We all thought we were in for the long haul… the commanders, the strategy departments, and all the soldiers.

But instead of a standstill, we seized control of the PIA in under half an hour, and cleared all the villages within the day. Before we realized, we had completed touring around the island, and arrived back here.

It’s impossible to describe what we felt, when the reality of our accomplishment sank in. We stood here, fatigued, disheveled, but unbroken, looking at one another until it finally dawned on us. There’s no more enemy. We’ve driven them out.

Patch is free.

A joyous sob broke the silence. Then, the dam tumbled down for the rest of us.

We were one giant, weeping mess, piling on top of one another like a small island ourselves, like there’s no tomorrow. The city folks slapped our shoulders and congratulated us. Some of them had no idea what it felt like, but saw our happiness. Others had a kind of longing in their eyes, and I knew they too were waiting to go home.

We did it. We took back our homes.

[He took off his beret and pressed it against his chest, facing the monument. “Ignis nos defendit”, I heard him whisper. He noticed me staring, but didn't offer an explanation. He put his hat back on and continued ahead.]

Ever since that day, I have this theory about Grimm.

You know how they say the monsters are attracted to negativity? I think that theory is incomplete. Not wrong, just unfinished. I think the Grimm aren’t just attracted by our negativities. I feel like… like they grow stronger by feasting on our fears and despair.

Now, I’m by no mean any sort of Grimm expert or scientists. But don’t you think it makes sense? And if what I just said is correct… then I think I know why we were so successful. But then again, it’s just a guess.

Well, let me tell you something real and sure. Of the forty-five thousand troops deployed that day, we had about seventeen thousand light casualty, five thousand severely injured, and zero death. [He grinned.]

We were exhausted, battered, but alive. Everyone got to go home. That’s unprecedented.

Once news of our victory spread, the whole kingdom - no, the whole world - was thrilled. If nothing else, the Cobblestone Assault proved to the world that we can win, that miracle is possible.

Volunteers showed up everywhere. More people enlisted, to the point where the army actually had to turn away some of them. The economy began recovering. Schools reopened. And people weren’t so afraid of their own shadow anymore.

Thanks to the new recruits, I got a week off active duty, few days after the Cobblestone Assault. Of course I visited Patch, just to see how the the reconstruction was going and if I could catch some of my old buddies.

[He pushed open the door to the airport waiting room. Several ground crews looked up as we entered. He nodded to them, smiling, and led me to the employee lounge before he spoke again.] ]

As it turns out, a lot of people asked for vacation just so they could come back. And… I bumped into Yang on the airship.

[He hesitated. I asked if he wanted to add something else.]

I don't know if it's my place to tell this bit. It's not really my story. [I was about to say it's okay if he felt uncomfortable when he started again.] But it's been bugging me since that day, so I might as well get it off my chest.

Remember I mentioned before that there were people missing during the big day? Remember how I was wondering where Ruby was? I’m ashamed to say this, but I forgot all about it after Patch was secured. I almost asked Yang why her little sister didn’t come with her when I saw her.

[“Did you ask her about it?”]

No. If Yang wanted it to be known, it would have become public knowledge by then. It’s the same with that question we all wondered about but never asked, about their differences in appearances and their mother.

I only remembered to keep my mouth shut when I saw the black ribbon tied to her left arm. It reminded me of that night after the assault.

I saw Yang leaving the camp in the dead of the night, when everyone was either utterly exhausted or utterly drunk. The only reason I was up was because one of my pals gave my face a solid kick. [He rubbed his chin as if he was sore] I thought I was punched by an Ursa.

I was about to fall back to the pile of sweaty, dirty, unconscious bodies that were my friends, when I spotted Yang stalking away from the campsite.

I followed her more out of curiosity than worry. I mean… she’s a Huntress, and I’m a police. If she encountered a Grimm she couldn’t handle, well shit, we were both dead. [He chuckled.] Anyway, I wasn’t worried at all. She’s more than capable of taking care of herself, and I was too drunk and drowsy to think logically.

We walked for an hour or so, I think. Her pace was… urgent. Heavy. Resigned. You’d be surprised how much you can learn from someone’s footsteps. I’m pretty good at it, at least when I’m not drunk off my ass.

She stopped when we reached a cliffside. I hid in the bush at the edge of the forest, too focused on rubbing the sleep away from my eyes and suppressing my yawns to see what exactly she was doing.

Then, suddenly, I heard the familiar sound of a shovel digging into the earth. I straightened up and stared. That’s when the huge boulder she carried all the way from the camp with her registered in my minds, and that’s the moment I recognized the dome-shaped shadow next to where she stood. It was a headstone.

I didn’t know who it was for, but I did realize I was intruding on a very private moment. I stood up, thought about calling out to my friend, when a hand appeared from the shadow and covered my mouth.

“Please be quiet.”

It was a woman’s voice. Soft, calm, and sad. When I found my nerve and realized I wasn’t being attacked, I nodded and she let me go.

I took a step back and spun around. She remained where she was, seemingly unbothered by my sudden movements. I wondered which would be faster, me screaming out a warning, or her unsheathing her weapon to slit my throat.

She didn’t seem like she was going to hurt me, or Yang. She just stood there, watching. There was something in her expression too complicated to be described.

“Who are you?” I challenged her in a hushed whisper.

She responded quietly. “A friend.”

I thought she was going to say more, but she remained as still and as quiet as a rock. So I asked. “Why are you here?”

Her eyes never left Yang.

“... to watch over her.”

For a split second, she looked lost. I stared, challenging her to continue. She must have felt it, for she spared a quick glance at me and smiled.

“I mean her no harm. You needn’t worry - I was her partner.”

I don’t know if she intended to say that, but I caught the implication.

“Was?” I asked, a little confused, and a little suspicious.

Something flashed across her eyes. Maybe it was pain, or regret. You saw them so often you began recognizing it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before looking back to Yang, who had already finished digging and putting the boulder in the empty hole, and was now beating the shit out of that rock.

After a long silence, she whispered to me, or maybe to herself, in a wistful voice.

“I’d like to think I still am.”

Something twinkled in her golden eyes, reflected by the soft glow of twilight rising from the horizon. Yang collapsed before the graves, crying soundlessly for all the things she lost.

“But that’s not my choice to make. Not anymore.”

Chapter Text

Mr. Winchester left the army shortly after the end of the war. Now, he works as one of the Peacekeeper, a group who strive to bring together the Human and Faunus populations. A Hunter himself, Mr. Winchester was well-respected by his co-workers. This was evident in their open admiration when he led me on a tour around their headquarter. He smiled embarrassedly when I expressed this observation. I didn’t understand why at first.

I used to hate Faunus.

[He paused to examine my reaction. When he saw my shock, he laughed softly.]

Yeah. I know.

Well, you aren’t the first to be surprised. Most of my pre-war associates looked at me like I’d grown two heads when I told them I’m working for PAEFA [*] .

[*: PAEFA stands for Peace And Equality For All. They are an organization aiming to bridge the gap between Human and Faunus population. Their major activities include creating social events, support groups, and educational platforms so that the two races can better understand and appreciate their differences. Peacekeepers is the nickname the public gave to the beloved group.]

I was your typical highschool bully who went around shoving people into walls for no good reasons. I pushed my way through the crowd all my life, always making fun of others for their miseries. Never stopping once to consider why they never fought back. People were scared of me, and the empowerment made me feel good.

My parents didn’t really care. They were always too busy doing something else to ask about what I was doing.

My psychiatrist told me I acted that way because I was raised in a kind of “survival for the fittest” environment. She told me not to be too harsh on myself for what happened. The past is in the past, right?

Well, don’t listen to her.

I fucked up, and there’s no excuse for what I’ve done. I can never take those things back, and I can never mend the damages I did to all the people I wronged. That includes both the people I bullied, and those who joined me in the bullying.

You see, I always found someone who would do my bidding, who would follow in my conquest to destroy all the pride and confidence in others. They weren’t always like that, but when you’re with someone like me, well…

[He paused to take a drink.]

When I was at Beacon, there’s this guy. Jaune Arc - yeah, that Jaune Arc, one of the heroes who ended the war. He wasn’t so tough back then, quite an easy target to be honest. I got some dirt on him and basically slaved him around for a while.

He should hate have hated me. But when I was on my ass about to be ripped apart by an Ursa, he saved my ass. And afterwards didn’t even try to get back at me or anything. Just told me not to mess with his friends and left.

That’s the first time I rethinked my actions.

But what really changed my mind and made me think to myself, “hey asshole, that’s a jerk move” happened much later, when I was on a mission with my boys on the countryside.

It was shortly after Atlas came and Ms. Goodwitch made that speech. My boys and I didn’t go to the ceremony. We made it back to our homes and were quite comfortable there. As far as we were concerned, we were done with Beacon and the war had nothing to do with us.

Well, we were dead wrong.

Most of the people we knew joined the army before the speech. Others who didn’t picked up the cue right after the speech. And if they weren’t in the army, they were at least doing something to help the war effort. Not just our classmates from Beacon. All the people we’d gone to school with, or just knew from random places.

And there we were. Hunters-in-training. Doing fucking nothing.

When you go to a prestigious school like Beacon, people know. They talk. They hold a certain expectations from you. Your families, your friends, your teachers, your neighbors, even your neighbor’s dogs. Everybody who knew you expected you to fight, or do something. They don’t question whether you could actually pull it off. They just look at you like you must have all the answers to the one million problems they had.

And if you didn’t do anything, they still chose to believe you had some sort of plan they didn’t know about.

Remember I said my parents didn’t really pay much attention to me growing up? Well, after the war broke out and they saw me come home, they started to look at me like I’m the next savior. They didn’t say that, but you could tell they wanted me to protect them when the war eventually knocked on our door. And even though I avoided going outside at all cost, the few times I did I could feel all eyes on me, like the next moment I’ll just brandish my weapon and the war would be over.

That’s what got to us.

One day, Russel showed up at my house with Dove and Sky. I thought they were just coming over to hang out, but they broke down before even stepping through the front door.

They told me they couldn’t take the pressure anymore. They told me what I’ve wanted to ignore all those weeks.

The next day, we went to the recruitment center and enlisted. It was about ten months after the war started.

[He shook his head.]

It was a mistake. We weren’t cut for that shit. As soon as we started the BTNR [*] we knew we made the wrong choice. We should have just ignored what people said and continued hiding like the cowards we were. Or maybe we should have gone into hiding, run away to a place where no one would know us…

[*: Shorthand for Basic Training for New Recruits, Vale Army’ standard training program designed to integrate Huntsmen and trainees into the military system.]

The training was hell. Not physically, but psychologically, to us.

Once you got used to doing whatever the fuck you want, it’s difficult to follow instructions and strict protocols. I butted head with my commanding officers so many times they should’ve just throw us out. Maybe they didn’t, because they knew I was looking for a reason to be out of this mess.

When they told us that training was over and transferred us to the new unit, I thought the worst was over.

Boy, was I wrong. It was only the beginning of the nightmare.

[“How so?”]

We got assigned to Battalion 428.

[“But…”]

I know, I know. Shouldn’t I be happy to be with a unit full of other Huntsmen and trainees?

[He coughed out a dry laugh.]

Well, that’s exactly why it was hell.

The day we officially entered service, Lieutenant Colonel Seymour greeted us at the entrance. All the Huntsmen and trainees stood behind him. It was the roughest day of my life.

[“Did they blame you for not being there since the beginning?”]

What? No. Of course not. That’s what made it even more unbearable.

I’ve got some dignity still - or maybe it was just pride. It’s hard to decide that nowadays. Point is, even if people didn’t say a thing, we could still hear the unspoken words echoing in our ears. When we marched off to the next village, when we brushed past them on the street, or even at night, when the whole world was asleep. There was always a voice whispering nasty things, telling us we didn’t earn the right to fight alongside the heroes and heroines, who didn’t even bat an eyelash when the world called for their service.

It sucked because they were true.

They should have got in our face and just tell us. Tell us we don’t deserve to be called Huntsmen. Tell us we don’t deserve to share their glory. But they didn't and it stank. It stank worse than all the Grimm we killed and the rotten corpses we didn’t save.

We weren’t happy after we settled down in our new home. Everyday, everything everyone did felt like a punishment, a reminder that we chickened out, that we turned our backs on the people we swore to protect. So we did our damn best to isolate ourselves from the rest. What you don’t see can’t hurt you, right?

So we kept to ourselves. Doesn’t matter if people tried talking to us or getting us to talk. We pretended we were kings. Acted like they should be grateful we were there. Because that’s the only way we could cope with the shame.

Soon enough any attempt to be friendly with us died away. People grew tired of our attitude and quickly began to ignore us in return. Even the regular soldiers avoided us.

It’s beautiful. I loved it. We loved not being bothered by those who were worthy to be called heroes. We loved not having others trying to “understand” what we were going through. We loved the freedom of being who we were, jerks and assholes and bullies.

It stayed like that for a while, but things changed in Strawburg.

[“Was that…?”]

Yeah. Mission 137. More commonly known as the Strawburg Disaster. That’s what you are here for, right?

[He sighed and toyed with a small lump of ragged cloth on his desk.]

It was supposed to be routine missions. Teams got divided up to help out different stuff. For example, CFVY had to eradicate the Grimm northeast of the village. Xiao Long got assigned to the area southeast. My team was supposed to escort some grade B cargo from the city to the village.

One of the teams in our battalion had to stay at Vale for operator training for the new communication system. I don’t know if it would have made any difference had they been there. I don’t think so. But whatever.

I complained all the way there. My boys humored me by agreeing to my snobby remarks. We bitched about Schnee, saying all sorts of awful things about her wish to “rebuild the bridge between the two races”, as she put it in her speech before the Black Blood fuckers interrupted the event. I still didn’t trust Faunus. Or maybe, I just didn’t trust myself.

When the escort mission was over, I let the boys go wherever they wanted. Actually, it was more like “leave me the fuck alone.” Half of the villagers were Faunus, and I was not okay with that.

I took a walk around town, just trying to clear my head, when I stumbled upon a Human and a Faunus arguing.

My first thought? The Faunus guy was obviously trying to swindle my good brother. I’ve gotta teach them a lesson, let them know not to mess with us Human. Arrogant, isn’t it? Before I heard a word they said, I’ve already decided the Faunus must be in the wrong.

So I walked up stiffly, and reported my name.

They looked surprised, but also relieved. And both started talking at the same time.

I wasn’t really listening. If I was, I would have asked questions, like what exactly did they agree on and stuff like that. But I wasn’t. I just nodded perfunctorily and waited until the Human finished so I could shame the Faunus.

I was about to say something when another voice cut in.

“What’s going on here?”

It was Xiao Long. She looked exhausted and bothered when she strolled past. She ignored me and questioned both of the merchants.

They repeated whatever they told me before. I tried to interrupt with my verdict, but Xiao Long shot me a hard look and I shut up.

I never took her as the patient type, but she listened to both men so carefully you’d think she’s investigating a murder case. Me? I wasn’t even pretending to listen at that point. I was so impatient to just tell the Faunus to beat it. The only thing stopping me was Xiao Long. You don’t want to mess with her, or any of her friends, for that matter.

And I’m glad she was there.

After what felt like forever to me at that time, she frowned, thought for a while, and said.

“So, if I’m getting this right. The price for one stack of good wood converted to lien would be five hundred, and for a pound of meat would be two hundred, right?”

They both thought for a moment then nodded.

“So shouldn’t you-” she pointed to the Human, “pay him-” and she pointed to the Faunus, “two stacks for the five pounds he’s offering?”

They looked at each other, stunned, and then burst out laughing.

“She’s right!” The Human merchant said as he gestured for his apprentice to come forward with a small cart. “For the love of Oum, I’m getting old!”

The Faunus man smiled and handed over his prize - a doe - in exchange of the materials. “I’m at fault too. I kept thinking we were measuring in something else.”

The happy merchant and hunter thanked the both of us. It was then that I started feeling awkward because I realize it was just a misunderstanding.

Xiao Long smiled to both of them and refused the gifts they tried to shove into our hands.

“No, no.” She said and returned the goods. “You guys keep it. We’ve got everything taken care of by the army.”

I scratched my head and mumbled something in agreement. There really wasn’t much else to do.

Once the civilians were out of sight, Xiao Long dropped the smile and turned to me. I thought she was going to punch me for being a moron. She didn’t look happy at all.

Instead, she sighed.

“You aren’t a bad person, Cardin.” She said. “I know why you’re angry and all, but you can’t let hatred blind you. We aren’t fighting for just ourselves anymore…”

She turned. And I don’t think she’s really just talking to me. “...you’ve gotta let it go. We've got duties bigger than ourselves to fulfil and lives to save.”

I mumbled something. I can’t remember what.

She looked back to me.

“Why did you go to Beacon?” She asked. “What’s the reason you fight?”

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish that left water. She watched me for a moment then dropped it.

“Just remember the people, or things, or places, that you treasure. Okay? Just remember what you fight for.”

Then, she walked away.

Later that night, I saw her entering her room with a bottle of whiskey in her hand and an expression that made me gulp. I turned back to the room I shared with my team. They asked me what’s the matter, but I didn’t tell them.

Few days later, the Faunus hunter showed up to our camp and asked to see me and Xiao Long.

She was due for another mission in half an hour. The Faunus looked disappointed - he wanted to invite us to his house for supper. I was cheering inwardly for Xiao Long’s “untimely” appointment, when she suddenly whacked me on the back.

“Cardin will go.” She volunteered my ass for the invitation. “He can be your guest and tell me all about it after I’m back.”

I was going to protest, but she shot me another glance and I shut up again. The Faunus didn’t notice our exchange, too excited, and ushered me to his wagon before I could find an excuse to bail.

He talked all the way during our ride.

His name was Sap, but didn’t tell me what it’s short of. I didn’t ask and just nodded along, feeling too awkward. What Xiao Long said few days ago suddenly came back to me, even though I tried my hardest to forget it all. I told myself not to think. Just get this over with and go back to my boys. Go back to how things were supposed to be.

We arrived not too long after, he introduced me to his wife, Lila, and his little girl, Odhran.

The supper was really nice. Hot stew, fresh bread, and homemade jam and sauce. I never had a better meal than that. Not before, not since.

I wouldn’t admit to anyone until much later, but I did have fun that night. Sap broke a barrel of his finest ale and we drank and laughed like brothers who met after a long separation. By the time I arrived back at the camp, I was half in the bag. It’s amazing really, the ale they brewed went down smooth as silk, but it hit hard like a charging Ursa.

I had this big, stupid grin on my face when I wandered through the tents, trying to find my way back to my team. A group of people walked past in front of me. My slurred mind didn’t register them on time and bumped into one of them.

I stumbled, cursed, then looked up. I wished I didn’t.

It was team CFVY.

Coco, Fox, and Yatsuhashi took one look at me, and rushed to stand between me and their last member, Velvet.

It’s pretty obvious, even to my drunk ass, that they thought I was looking for trouble. For once, I wasn’t. I actually felt ashamed looking at her face and remembering how I picked on her every chance I got.

“What do you want?” Coco practically growled.

I was barely standing at that point. I slurred something. They looked at each other in confusion before Coco raised an eyebrow and took a step closer. She raised her handbag casually, like it wasn’t also a deadly high-caliber minigun…

I was thinking “oh shit”, but too drunk to move my ass out of the way. I don’t think they were going to beat me up or anything like that, but a “talk” was definitely coming.

But then, out of nowhere, Velvet shot forward and locked her captain’s arms with her own.

“No no no. Coco. Wait!” She begged. “I’m sure he wasn’t going to do anything!”

If Coco was surprised, I didn’t see it. Well, it’s pretty hard to decipher her emotion when she’s wearing her shade. Anyway, Coco gave her arms a little pat and signed. She whispered something to Velvet, and her face turned red.

Then, Coco looked back at me. “Well? Were you?”

I sobered up instantly from the undisguised threat and enmity in her voice. My Fight or Flight instinct kicked in.

I was never taught how to back down, no matter how seriously outnumbered or outsourced. Had I been a bit wiser that night, I’d just say “no, I wasn’t looking for a fight” and leave it at that.

Instead, my mind went into battle mode. And in my panic I fell back to what had worked so well for me in the past. Yeah, act the “tough guy”.

“Get the fuck out of my way.” I grumbled and reached out to push my way through. Coco dodged that pathetic shove easily and frowned.

I put too much force in the act, and the alcohol caught up with me at that precise moment. My body lost balance, and I tripped, falling forward. I’m not sure if I blacked out for a moment when my face hit the ground.

Velvet bent down to help me up, and I was torn between taking that hand and slapping it away. My mind tried to do the former, but my body was going for the later.

So naturally, I ended up dragging her down with me, and we both fell over. I sat on my ass hard.

When you are trying to be all tough and mean, you don’t like feeling stupid. When you make a fool out of yourself, even if you know there’s only one person at fault, you blame it on the others.

Your face start burning up. Your heart race like you are running at full speed. The illogical part of your brain override any control the logical part has on your action and speech. And you do or say something that you’d regret later on.

“The hell are you doing?!” I shouted. “Watch where you are going, you stupid animal!”

Something snapped. And I don’t mean just metaphorically.

I was confused at first as to why my world suddenly turned upside down. Before I realized I was sent flying backward like a golf ball, gravity pulled me back down and my face made contact with the ground again.

The shock paralyzed me for several seconds. When I somehow struggled up, Fox was behind me with his tonfa pressed against my neck, and Yatsuhashi stuck his greatsword against my chest armor with enough force to bruise. Their expressions told me I had crossed the line.

But those were nothing compared to the overwhelming pressure I felt from Coco.

It was at the end of the year, just before spring arrives. The night can be a bit chilly, yeah, but I wasn’t shivering because of the temperature. I couldn’t see Coco’s eyes behind her shades, but it didn’t matter. I felt her cold, biting fury.

“You ignorant piece of shit.” Her voice was low and steady, but the way she enunciated each word, the way her pitch shifted ever so slightly, and the way her muscles twitched… man, I hope you never see that.

She walked forward in a slow pace, just slow enough so I can get a full view of her handbag being deployed into its minigun form. “You should not have done that.”

My mind went blank. I stuttered out something. I must look pretty pathetic.

Coco snorted out a humorless laughter and pressed the barrel against my temple.

I found my voice again when I felt the cold metal. “Hey! Th-this ain’t fair.” My voice cracked and I felt both angry, humiliated, and scared.

“Wow. You are dumber than you look, kid.” She raised an eyebrow. “First of all, I don’t care. Second, it seems very ‘fair’ considering how you treat other people. Last, I’m not going to hurt you, no matter how much I think you deserve it.

It was then that I noticed Velvet hanging on her arm, trying desperately to hold her back from blowing a hole in my brain. My jaw dropped.

“My sweet easter bunny could beat the living daylight out of you and your goons, with her eyes closed and one hand tied to her back.” She said. Velvet’s face turned bright pink. “But she didn’t. Do you know why?”

I stayed very still. She didn’t want my answer anyway.

“Because she’s got a bigger heart than all of us combined.” She signed and pointed the barrel of her minigun away from my forehead reluctantly. There was a hint of pride and helpless admiration in her tone. “I’ll let your sorry ass off the hook this time.”

She nodded to the male members of her team, and they reluctantly withdrew their weapons. Everyone except Velvet stared at me with this expression… like they expected me to - or maybe hoped me to - pick a fight.

I didn’t.

I backed the fuck off for the first time in my life.

My dad and his teaching can go to hell. I ain’t gonna stand up if they told me to stay down. I was done with being the “tough boss man” that night.

Velvet was still trying hysterically to pull Coco away. When we locked eyes, she gave me this weak, apologetic smile, like she was sorry for what her team did. I felt a mixture of confusion, annoyance, and shame. I got up. Coco frowned at me and raised her minigun again.

“Listen closely. I will say this once, and only once.”

I was taller than her, but somehow she managed to loom over and stare down at me.

“Don’t you fucking dare harassing Velvet again, ever. My easter bunny is too nice for her own good, but I’m not.”

I heard a click of her safety.

“She may still think you boys are good people despite all the shits you pulled on her, but I don’t. I will be looking forward to the day when you boys fuck up bad enough that I can give you a piece of my mind without her objection.”

And just like that, she stood back and let me go. I scrambled away, running as fast as my tired legs would carry me.

Russell tried to ask me what happened, but I didn’t breathe a word.

[He fell silent and looked out of the window. I nodded, thinking that’s the end of the story. He noticed my intention to leave, and moved to pour more tea into my cup. I realized there was more.]

Coco was right. Velvet could have beaten the shit out of me and my boys whenever she wanted. She’s a better fighter than any of us by a long shot. Everybody on team CFVY was a top-notch warrior.

That’s why they were assigned to go after the class A after the GISP [*] guys found out a hoard was moving towards the village. And that’s why my team was given the easy job - to defend the villagers.

[*: GISP stands for Grimm Intelligence and Strategy Planning. It’s typical for a battalion with Huntsmen to have a team of specialists to study their enemy and formulate the best tactic to eradicate the threat.]

After the war broke out and Grimm population grew, we began to learn more about the creatures of darkness. There was a loose classification system in the pre-war era. We even learned it in the Grimm Study class. But it was only after two years into the war that we really began classifying them.

Class D were the most common ones. Anyone who graduated from a battle school could take them on. Class C were a bit tougher, and freshmen in the Huntsmen academy usually need to work together to bring them down. Class B should be only be handled by groups of senior students, or can be soloed by certified Huntsmen.

Class A, however, were much more dangerous. They could pose significant threat, even to seasoned Huntsmen. They are intelligent, ferocious, and some alphas even possess the ability to command other lower class Grimm.

As for Class S… well, I’ll just give you an example of a Class S. Remember that Grimm that destroyed the Beacon CCT tower? [I nodded.] Yeah, that’s a class S. It took a troop of Huntsmen to completely kill it. And that one wasn’t even the strongest recorded in our history… [he shook his head.]

Anyway. Class A was a significant threat. I know I said they should only be handled by seasoned Huntsmen, preferably a group of them, but we didn’t exactly have that available at the time they showed up.

So Lieutenant Colonel Seymour made the call of sending our best team out. I don’t know if he considered the possibility that CFVY wouldn’t make it. Well, if that’s the case, we were all doomed. Maybe he did, and that’s precisely why he sent them on that mission.

Anyhow, my boys and I were secretly freaking out when we patrolled the neighborhood. There was a lot of hushed whispers about ditching and make a run of it.

I wasn’t paying attention. I was still thinking about CFVY and about what we were going to do if things went to hell. I had a responsibility to my teammates. I needed to make sure they were taken care of, and most important of all, I’ve gotta keep them alive until we could go home.

I didn’t realize we were getting close to Sap’s house. All of the sudden I heard someone calling my name.

The boys were all staring at something… or someone. I followed their gazes, and froze. Odhran was hopping toward us with a broad smile.

“Hey Cardin…” I heard Russell say, his voice strange and slow. “Who’s that?”

Man was it awkward. I didn’t want to explain what’s been going on for the past few days, nor did I want to tell them about the slight change in my opinions regarding Faunus. I tried to ignore Odhran and walk away, but another voice called out. It was Sap.

He ran up to me and greeted us. I didn’t want to look at any of my teammates, afraid I’d see something I don’t like on their faces. I just kept walking.

The ground beneath us collapsed just as Sap was asking me if everything’s alright. All I can remember after that was falling down, faster and faster into the endless abyss awaiting for us below, and of Odhran’s little face.

[He paused and sipped his tea, his eyes staring into the far distant. I could hear soft chatters and laughters coming from the outside.]

When I woke up, I had no idea where I was or what had happened. I began to panic. I shouted, calling out to my team, to Sap and his daughter, to anyone.

But nobody came.

I don’t know how long passed, but eventually I got a grip of myself. The training came back to me and I soldiered on.

It was one of the scariest experience in my life. I couldn’t see anything, hear anything, or even feel anything. It was like being trapped in a void. Time and space lost meaning… you lose track of how far you have moved, how many times you have inhaled and exhaled, and even who you are. Memory and illusions fuse together.

I don’t remember how I found the exit, but I remember stumbling into the light, and a sense of peace washing over. After that, I just stopped.

Some time later, Yatsuhashi found me. I didn’t exactly see him approach, but I did feel him shaking my shoulder. I snapped back to reality and stared up. He looked oddly gentle when he kneeled besides me and tapped my shoulder.

“Here, let me carry her.” He said quietly.

I just kept staring at him.

What is he talking about? I thought to myself. What’s going on? What happened? How did he get here? Where’s everybody?

He mistook my inaction as something else, probably reluctance or mistrust. We never spoke of that day, so I never got the chance to ask.

He moved closer and reached out for something. Something in my arms.

Naturally, I looked down.

[He paused and looked at me directly in the eyes.]

… they asked me about it more times than I care to count. The commander, the Grimm specialists, the medics, eventually the shrink, and now you. My answer is the same.

I was alone when I woke up after the fall. I didn’t encounter anybody when I stumbled through the darkness. If there was someone else with me, I would have known.

[His fingers caressed the ragged cloth on the table. I don’t think he noticed.]

When I looked down, I suddenly became aware of my surrounding again, like someone just flipped the switch to my sensory system. I smelled the burnt ashes in the air, felt the cramps in my muscles, heard the distant sirens and gunfires.

A little bundle appeared in my arms. Out of nowhere.

[He paused, as if to stress the point.]

A moment ago she wasn’t there, but the next I knew, there she was.

[“But the report said…”]

I’m perfectly aware of what the report said.

[He sighed and pulled his hand away to rub his forehead.]

No offense. But it’s impossible.

Like I said hundred of times before, if she fell to the same place as I, if we had spent a week underground, if I had been carrying her through the ruins for more than three days, I would have known.

[This was when I realized, the lump of cloth was not just cloth, but a soiled doll.]

Right?

Chapter Text

Rohid Bianchi served in the VIA, the Vale Intelligence Agency, during the war as one of the agents. After getting severely injured during one of the operation and receiving a promotion to become an officer, he retreated from the front line. He retired to the neighborhood of his youth, in the town of Meadowton, a suburb village not too long a walk from the Agricultural District of Vale. He greeted me in his abode, and treated me with plenty of warm food and pleasant conversations before the interview.

Do you believe in atonement? I don’t mean confessing to a priest about inappropriate thoughts to your crush, or surrender yourself to the police after you stole a bag of Dust from a weapon shop. And I don’t mean going to the prison and doing physical labors. I mean trying to mend your mistakes, or if you are unable, think of some way to compensate to those you have wronged.

Do you think people do that so they will be worthy of redemption one day? Or do you think they do it to make themselves feel better? Will the victims be at peace with the past because of the wrongdoers try to “fix” their mistakes, or can they find the solitude regardless of the actions of the culprits?

How many charitable acts must one commit before they earn forgiveness? How long must they torment themselves to understand the suffering they caused? How much must they sacrifice, so they can compare to what the others have lost?

I don’t know if people who do that are honorable, or foolish, but I do know somebody who had done it. His name was Aeron Chastain. He was a defector from the White Fang.

Like most who got mixed up with the terrorists, Aeron wasn’t really a bad person at heart. They had big dreams of peace and prosperity for the Faunus people. And for a while, they were on the right path to making this planet a better place. Until one day something just snapped.

It didn’t always start the same way, but they followed a similar pattern. The seed of doubts began growing in their hearts after they witnessed an incident, nurtured by frustrations of their unsuccessful campaign, and eventually it blossomed into hatred and desperation. They started hearing the voice in the darkness. The sweet temptation that promised everything they desired, if they would just cross the line.

Some of them would suddenly be jolted awake one day. Was what they were doing any better than what the people they despised so much had done? They might have crossed the boundary that separated them from normal citizens, but did they really plan to give up on their own moral code as well?

“What have I done?” They would ask themselves in horror, in shock, and sometimes in regret.

Their life would become unbearable. They would be tormented by guilt and struggle every waking moment. They would want to quit, ready to give everything they had in exchange for the way out.

But most of them would never do it. Because if there was one thing more impossible than staying, it would be leaving.

Where would they go after they run away? Who could they turn to for protection or comfort? How could they possibly pretend life is still normal?

Most of them would stay unhappily where they had been, and either perish in the battles or drive themselves mad. Only very few would do anything to change their situation, for better or for worse.

Those who were brave - or crazy - enough to plan their escape, and actually carried through with the plan, still lost everything afterward. They couldn’t get their old lives back, let alone their friends and families, their reputations, and probably the most important of all: their innocence.

They probably realized that. And maybe that’s why they always escaped when they were on a mission. Maybe that’s why the White Fang or the Black Blood could never predict when one of their members was going to disappear on them.

Anyhow, that’s how I came across Aeron. In a cold, gloomy night. There was a knock on my door. I talked to Aeron, and we took it up to the big boys.

I was one of the few contacts to the Whisper Corp within my organization. My colleagues brought me any intels they thought worthy of an investigation, I went on to confirm or refute them, and my boss decided whether it was a go or a no-go to trouble the big-shots at the Whisper Corp.

There were some criterias to determine the priority of the intels. Their origins, the snitch’s background and motivation, the intel itself of course, and so on.

After I talked to Aeron, I knew this was something of utter importance. So I didn’t even wait til daybreak to wake my boss and his boss up.

[“They must have been very pleased to see Mr. Chastain then.”]

Not at all. [He laughed.] It was wartime. There were plenty of flukes. Everybody thought they knew something worthy the time of the secret agencies. Everybody was sure that their information was going to save us all.

My bosses weren’t too happy to be awakened that early - or that late - in the middle of the night. They questioned Aeron themselves, but still didn’t quite believe him. I don’t blame them. Some of the nutcases we received could make up very convincing stories.

But eventually, they relented. I’m not sure if they just wanted to get back to bed. They agreed for me to bring it to the Whisper Corp the next morning. They made clear I would be his custodian. I would be responsible for this intel and whatever happened afterwards. We did that so to make sure all agents think at least ten times before they go ahead with the process. Should anything happen, it would be the custodian’s ass on the line.

I brought Aeron back to my quarter, but neither of us could sleep. I made coffee and some food for him. He looked like he had been through hell. Like someone who walked through a Grimm slaughterhouse and had to survive on grass and moss for weeks. The only thing differentiating him was his relative cleanness.

By the time the sun rose above the horizon , we were already standing at my contact location. I can’t tell you where - even after all these years, those kind of information are still classified.

Anyway, as usual, my contact was already there, waiting for us. I always suspect the Whisperers knew about the information we brought to them, before we even heard about them. Well, whatever. They were always polite about it, and listened to our debriefings with as much grace as a cat slipping into the shadow.

That day, it wasn’t just my regular contact waiting for me. And that’s how I knew they must have already caught wind of the person I was about to bring to them.

I was right. Hound, my contact, introduced us to his colleague, Watson, one of the Whisperer’s specialists to deal with Faunus-related affairs.

Watson - that’s a codename or a false identity, no doubt - was a beautiful young woman with long black hair. She led us to one of the “offices”, controlled locations for the Whisperers and their contacts to exchange information and make deals. She asked to talk to Aeron alone.

[“She was going to interrogate your contact?”]

I don’t know. I never bothered to ask when I brought in contacts before. The Whisperers were good at what they do and that’s all we needed to know. We were all curious how they managed to extract the information, sure, but whenever someone asked, the agents would just smile mysteriously and replied with a “trade secret”. We knew better than to press them for details. And hey, maybe we wouldn’t want to know [he chuckled darkly] .

Anyway, it’s standard procedure. No other agents would think twice before leaving the Whisperer with the contact. But for some reason, I hesitated that day.

Watson sensed my unease and dropped the request. I think she was too eager to know what Aeron had to offer to bother with my presence. The meeting proceeded.

[“What did he tell you?”]

Not exactly what we wanted to know. Watson was a bit disappointed about that. Still, we learned valuable information.

[“What kind of information were you hoping?”]

Well, you know, the kind that would make the war a hell lot easier. The location of the White Fang headquarter, their leadership chain, their plans, etc etc.

Aeron didn’t have the answer to any of those questions, of course, since he was only a grunt. But he did tell us something interesting. Things that would eventually lead to Operation Bad Blood.

Territorial dispute between the White Fang and the Black Blood had been raging since the creation of the latter. Not that the land actually belonged to either of them, mind you, but they’d love to believe they could display dominance over the other race. Pathetic.

Anyway, Aeron told us that the White Fang suckers found out where the Black Blood idiots were hiding. They were going to pay them a visit, at the dead of the night, with plenty of weapons.

Watson asked him a few more questions after that, and soon the meeting was over. Just as we got up to leave, Watson stopped us and offered Aeron something we weren’t expecting. The WWPA [*] .

[*: The War Witness Pardon Act. It’s rumored that the Vale government had utilized the program to protect some of the most notorious and wanted criminals for one reason or another. The government never released the exact figure of people who entered the program.]

It’s a rare chance. They didn’t exactly hand out that package to all the defectors unless they had a really, really good reason to. Their status in their previous organization. Their expertise. Their knowledge. Something. It worried me as much as it surprised me, because as far as I could see, Aeron was just a regular grunt, a nobody.

Watson smiled for the first time we met, and she promised there was no fineprints. No hidden “charges”.

I was taken aback by that. Aeron just stared at her, dumbfounded. We were sure she knew the double meaning, perhaps that was her intention. Her smiled faded, and she apologized for her “inappropriate comment” before wishing us both a good day and slipped out of the room.

Few weeks later, Aeron came back with an expression a mix of concern, hopeful, and dread.

He told me the Whisperers were planning for a major operation. A raid of some sort. He was worried about it. Naturally, my first question was how he obtained that information, instead of the details regarding the operation.

[“And what did he tell you?”]

Watson told him about it.

[“The Whisperer?”]

Exactly. I was just as shocked. It just didn’t sit well with me, all the “special treatments” Watson had given to Aeron. I was so convinced she was planning something… something that neither of us would like.

To be fair, the VIA would be part of the operation, so we would have learned about it eventually. Maybe I was just being paranoid.

Aeron begged me to take him with me to the operation. He argued that his experience with the White Fang could be beneficial to the operation. Stupid me let him convince me. [He sighed.]

When the actual debriefing came, I learned that the operation was not against the White Fang, but against the Black Blood. The Whisper Corp and the VIA wanted to use the opportunity of their turf war to weaken the Fangs, and clean up the Blood. Sorry, bad joke.

[“Can you describe the operation?”]

It’s not the most glorious moment of our organizations, I can tell you that. But allow me to skip the details. Just know that, while the two groups were trying to rip each other’s throat out, someone else was watching from the shadow.

It didn’t take too long before we saw our chance. The Blood, although not nearly as well-trained or experienced as the Fangs, were still a fierce bunch. They came mostly from poor families or orphaned at a very young age, before they went on to join street gangs. It really isn’t that surprising they ended up in the Black Blood.

We were surprised at how well the strategy worked. The Bloods might have been defeated that night, but they didn’t go out quietly. They almost brought the Fangs down with them.

By the time we rushed them, there was nothing either side could do to stop us. We pretty much walked all over them. As bad as it sounded, it’s the truth. We tore through their ranks, beat up their commanders, and arrested their leaders. Most of them were too exhausted to fight back. I saw the expressions on some of my colleagues, even the Whisperers… they didn’t want it to be like this. They wanted to have a fair fight, maybe even chances to talk to their kinsman and try to convince them…

[“Would it work?”]

I honestly don’t know. And to be honest, who can? There’s no way to know whether or not the person we just knocked out really wanted to be there in the first place. Maybe they were forced. Maybe they were misguided. Maybe if we’d given them a few more days, they’d become one of our contacts. Maybe…

There’s always that possibility. There’s always that “maybe”. But “maybe” wouldn’t get us anywhere. We knew that, and we made the choice to move forward. It may mean we have to make mistakes to learn, but we’ve accepted that. You won’t make mistakes if you do nothing, but you won’t achieve anything either.

Come to think of it, maybe that’s why I let Aeron convince me in the first place. He felt the desire to something, and who am I to stop him? I’d never been able to before, why should then be any different?

[He cleared his throat, as if realizing he had let some information that he did not intend to share slip.]

Aeron had some beef with one of the top guys in the White Fang. I don’t know what exactly. What he told me - and Watson - was complete bullshit. He didn’t want to join us just because he wanted to help. He wanted his justice.

How could I have possibly known that? And how could I have kept track of him through all the chaos and bloodshed during the battle? I couldn’t. Even if I wanted to, it’s just physically impossible.

One moment he was still behind me, dodging from one cover to another. The next moment he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd of shouting, running Faunus and Human. [He stopped briefly and looked out of his window. His voice turned faint and faraway.] I never saw him again.

[“Do you know what happened to him?”]

They told me he was killed when he sneaked off to assassinate the bull guy.

[“Taurus?”]

That’s him.

[“But you don’t believe it?”]

I had my… moments of uncertainty, but nothing concrete. Remember my position. What else could I have done other than nodded my head and agreed to what my boss told me?

If they said Aeron’s dead, then he’s dead. If they said he must have brought some explosives and detonated them and there’s no body to speak of, then he’s blown to pieces. You can’t question what they told you. You just have to accept, and keep the suspicions to yourself, at least until you got a chance to talk to someone you can trust about it

They had a small service for all those who had fallen during the operation. It’s slightly less bleak and desolate than their celebration party for the collapse of the Black Blood, but still very depressing.

You’d think they would let loose a bit, considering they had just dissolved one of the most dangerous criminal organizations in Vale, and severely wounded the other. [He chuckled.] But no, it’s still all hush-hush. And everybody acted like it’s a goddamn funeral…. Oh wait, it was. [He shook his head.]

Watson came to the ceremony, to my surprise. She was the one to strike up a conversation. We chitchat a bit in the beginning, testing each other and talking in riddles.

I got tired very fast. I wasn’t in the mood for mind games. I asked her what she wanted.

She smiled, but not in the typical mysterious-secret-agent way. No, her smile was sincere and apathetic, which, given the circumstances, I found odd.

“Do you believe he did it to repent his mistakes?” She asked. “Do you think he’s honorable, or foolish?”

I didn’t answer.

“Do you think criminals like him will ever find peace in their minds? Or will they forever be tormented by their past until they take their last breath?”

I still didn’t say anything.

To tell you the truth, I don’t know. I don’t know if what Aeron did was honorable or foolish, but I know it cost him some of the most valuable things in his life. His families and friends. His beliefs. His reputations. His pride. His dream. And maybe his live as well.

“I never did catch his name.” She said to me before she disappeared into the shadow.

For some reason, that’s my trigger. That’s when I responded. I told her, [there was a look of tender sadness as he whispered] , his name was Aeron Chastain.

He used to be my best friend.

Chapter Text

Huntress Yang Xiao Long, more commonly known as the Dragon’s Fiery, is among the most celebrated war heroes in the modern era. Every year, the High Council of Vale reserves a seat for her in the War Memorial Day, an honor only those who made significant contribution to obtaining the victory of the war could enjoy. However, Huntress Xiao Long never showed up to any of the ceremony. Every year, the seat remains empty. There were rumors that Huntress Xiao Long had left the kingdom, in favor of a solitary life. However, none of her associates confirmed or disproved it.

This is why I was rather surprised to find this package by my door one morning. The neat handwriting on its cover and the immaculate bundle of tape did not exactly fit the image of the heroine, who was described as quite disorganized.

Video #1.

[The camera came to life as someone picked it up rather carelessly. It took a moment to adjust to the dimness in the room, and focused to the face of the young Huntress Xiao Long. She was mumbling something.]

…this is a bad idea. Maybe I should just… oh wait, is this on already? Ah shit. Well, guess I might as well then.

Log… crap, can’t remember. Anyway, it’s November 12, year 83. It’s, hmmm… [She squinted at the screen, presumably reading the digital clock.] …3:16 A.M.

Can’t sleep. Kept dreaming about them and that night.

[The camera pointed away from her face, to what looked like the interior of the standard military tent, where five other sleeping bags were scattered across the floor.]

My tent-mates all disappeared to god-knows-where. So I'm just talking to myself now. Hey, this would make a damn good blackmail material. Hah! I got evidence here you guys skipped curfew!

No, but seriously, where the hell did they go? We’re supposed to-

[She paused. I couldn’t hear anything else, but evidently she did.]

Huh, weird. Sounds like people talking. What are they doing at this hour? Tomorrow’s- or maybe technically today, whatever- our big day.

[She stood, and walked to the zipped up entrance of the tent. As she pulled it down, orange light from the bonfires illuminated the view. Behind every one of them, rows of half-cylindrical shaped tents lined up somewhat neatly. Most of them had their cover opened, revealing soldiers sitting around with mugs in their hands. She walked up to the nearest fire.]

Hey, what are you guys doing up?

[Many turned at her question, smiled and waved at her. A young woman answered.]

[Soldier 1] Can’t sleep. I’m guessing you too?

Well, even if I was sleeping, this noise would have woken me up.

[A young man beside the woman laughed.]

[Soldier 2] Bullshit. You can sleep through an earthquake.

[The ring of soldiers all laughed.]

Har, har. Very funny. Try drawing GAP [*: Guard And Patrol] for a week straight, and we'll see how well you can handle morning meetings.

[Soldier 2] Nah thanks. I'll stick with CAF [*: Chemical Armed Force] . …oh wait, that reminds me- [He turned into the tent behind and called out.] Coco! Yang's up.

What? Wait! [Huntress Xiao Long tried to stop him, but it was too late.] Dude! What the hell?! Why is everyone reporting everything I do to her!

[Another young man around the fire swiveled his mug, and took a sip.]

[Soldier 3] Sorry champ, you know how she is. [He started laughing drunkenly.] Hey! At least now you’ve got someone to look out for ya. Like a mom.

Oh fuck off.

[As the soldiers continued bantering with Huntress Xiao Long, a group of four emerged from the tent.]

Hey, Velvet! Fox, Yatsuhashi… [Her voice trailed off.] …and Coco.

[Ms. Adel] Not too thrilled to see me, huh?

[They started walking away from the fire, out of the earshots of other soldiers.]

No no. I'm just… ahem, I'm just a bit tired is all. So you guys can't sleep either?

[Ms. Scarlatina] I don't think anyone could. [She smiled timidly.] I mean… this is it. Tomorrow, we will be back to where it all started. We will… we will finally have the chance to take back our homes, and lay our fallens to rest.

[The camera shifted. She seemed restless.]

[Mr. Daichi] Everytime I close my eyes, I see those who didn't make it. Their cries will surely keep me up tonight.

[Mr. Alistair ] And we won't be the only one. [He gestured to the crowd walking about, each with a drink in their hand.] Sleep will difficult to find for all.

[Huntress Xiao Long looked around slowly, then dropped her head. The camera pointed towards her non-standard boots.]

…yeah, I guess.

[Miss Adel tilted her sunglasses down, and stared intently at Huntress Xiao Long.]

[Ms. Adel] You okay?

[The camera shot upward abruptly.]

Huh? Me? Of course. I mean, why wouldn't I be?

[Ms. Scarlatina took half a step closer, clearly concerned.]

[Ms. Scarlatina] Coco's just worried about you, Yang. We passed by some people who'd lost their teammates, and they were not doing too good…

[Huntress Xiao Long's voice cut in.]

That's them. Not me. I'm doing okay. There's no reason to worry.

[Ms. Adel shook her head.]

[Ms. Adel] You might be able to fool the others, but we have been fighting side by side for almost three years now. We were there the night the tower came tumbling down. We took the same airship retreating from Beacon to the city center. [She took off her sunglasses, staring at Huntress Xiao Long.] We might not have known you as well as your sister or your partner, but don't you think the struggles we've gone through together counts toward something?

[There was a long pause, until finally Ms. Adel chuckled and put a hand on Ms. Xiao Long's shoulder.]

[Ms. Adel] It's Blake, isn't it? You're worried she won't come.

[The camera shook suddenly.]

What? No! It's not… I don't…Why would… [She trailed off. After a moment of awkward silence, she groaned.] Arrrrrgh. Whatever. I'm going to sit by the fire. It's chilly out here.

[The camera turned and moved unsteadily toward the nearest campfire. The soldiers scooted away to make space for the newcomer. In the distance, a harmonica played.]

[Soldier 2] Hey! I know that song.

[Soldier 3] Well duh. We all do.

[Soldier 1] But I don't recognize that lyrics. The one I know goes like this.

[The young woman began singing. More and more voice chimed in. Soon, it appeared that everyone in sight were humming along.]

All my memories gathered around her
Farmer's daughter, stranger to blue water
Dark and dusty, painted on the sky
Misty taste of moonshine, teardrop in my eye

[A guitar began playing somewhere to the right of where the camera was positioned.]

I hear her voice in the morning hour
Her voice calls to me
The radio reminds me of my home far away
And marching down the road
I get a feeling
That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday

[The sound of what could only be described as rifle stock battering against a tree trunk came echoing from behind. The camera turned. It's exactly what the soldier with moppy brown hair was doing.]

Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
Brooke and Jade, Patch and Hope
Take me home, country roads

[The rest of the video showed the soldiers singing and playing makeshift instruments next to the campfire. A few soldiers rolled out some barrels which, presumably, were the light ale popular in the army during the war.

In accordance to its bittersweet taste and the almost non-existent aftereffect after a night of drinking, the soldiers nicknamed it, quite appropriately, Nostalgia.]

Video #2.

[At first, all I could hear was wind whipping and the roaring of some kind of machine. The screen was black for several seconds, before light suddenly cut into view. When the video cleared, I saw several Huntsmen lining up ahead.

This is when I realized Huntress Xiao Long was taking off the cap of her camera. The Vale Army had utilized the temporary CCT tower built by the joint effort of the Valish and Atlesian governments to create a new communication system for the military. Every soldiers had a program installed to their Scrolls, which were tied to their bodies. The camera recorded real-time footage of what the soldiers were seeing. The Crusade of Fire was the first time they tested this new system. It would supposedly provide "valuable insight to the elements contributing to the success or failure of our operations".]

-Xiao Long ready to go.

[The trapdoor beneath opened. The Huntsmen ahead leapt out of the plane one by one, followed by Huntress Xiao Long. The world expanded into blue sky, dark forest, and darker still shadows.]

Let's give 'em something to think about before crossing the line again!

[Static shouts of "Hell yeah!" and "For Beacon!" echoed through. The ground rushed closer and closer. I could almost hear the blood pumping in their veins.

The touchdown was even more heart-stopping than I had anticipated. The world halted as a burst of flame washed over the lens.]

We are back, Beacon!

[When the camera stabilized, I saw a horde of Creeps, Deathstalkers, and Ursas charging this way.]

What! You want some?

[Huntress Xiao Long roared a laughter, and lunged toward the Grimm.

Few had the privilege to witness the battle of a renowned Huntress such as Ms. Xiao Long. Even rarer was the chance to see how she handled herself in hand-to-hand combat, from her perspective. I cannot hope to put into words her excellence.

Grimm fell down by the dozens whenever her flaming fist landed. The fire cut through the darkness like a sharp razor.]

This!

[She grabbed a Griffon by its beak and tore it in half.]

Is!

[The camera swiveled around, and I caught a glimpse of a Deathstalker behind her being incinerated.]

For!

[With a snap, two King Taijitu exploded in flame.]

My friend!

[I heard gears grinding, and a brilliant light shot from Huntress Xiao Long's gauntlet, hitting a Nevermore square in the chest.]

My family!

[Another shot was fired. The five Boarbatusks in front of her bursted to flying sparks.]

And everyone else!

[The next half hour was the most intense battle I had ever witnessed or could have imagined. I watched in awe and respect as Huntress Xiao Long, and other Huntsmen, tore through the Grimm like they were made of paper.

The forwards stormed the airship dock with such fervor, that it made my own blood boil, even after the battle had been over for years and I was sitting comfortably at my own home.

One by one, the strategic points were secured. The courtyard, the atrium, and now they turned toward the cafeteria.]

The only fight that shoulda take place here is the food fight!

[She barked as she brought down the ceiling to bury the Grimm.]

You blood-suckers ain't allowed here!

[After a few more minutes of Huntress Xiao Long smashing the Grimm to fiery pulp, suddenly, the camera was jerked sideways. I heard a groan. The screen turned, to two Goliaths which had apparently pinned Huntress Xiao Long down.]

I'll snap your tusks and use them as toothpicks!

[There was a bright golden light emitting from behind the camera. No doubt it was Huntress Xiao Long's Semblance activating. But just when she was about to blast the energy to the two Goliaths, a shadow appeared on top of the one on the left, and a flash struck the beast in its head.

The remaining Goliath loosened its hold, and turned to its dying comrade.]

What in the name of Oum…?

[A dark-haired Faunus woman slid down gracefully from the top of the Goliaths.

There was a gasp, and a moment of complete stillness.

Huntress Xiao Long was rasping, like she had trouble breathing.]

…Blake?

[The woman disappeared as the second Goliath roared in anger. The camera snapped around frantically, until it focused on the beast’s head. There she was.]

The hell are you… Why didn't you… How did you…

[Her whisper was drowned out by the pained howl of the remaining Goliath. For a moment, it seemed the Faunus woman made eye contact with Huntress Xiao Long.

But just as suddenly as she appeared, she disappeared again.

Another hoards of angry Grimm charged in sight. To which Huntress Xiao Long blocked with her bare hands.]

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Screw it!

[Brilliant lights blinded the camera temporarily. Before the video completely died, I heard Huntress Xiao Long laugh, and bark out one last sentence.]

God fucking damn it. It's good to see you, partner!

Video #3

[The video started with Huntress Xiao Long in a hospital gown, sitting up at the bed. There were bandages all over her, making her look akin to some sort of live mummy.]

November 17, Year 83. Yupe, I'm in the hospital. Again.

Apparently the operation is a huge success. Doc still don't want me to go wandering outside, even though I told 'em I'm perfectly fine. I want to see Beacon, you know.

[She chuckled.]

I bet even Professor Goodwitch would have a hard time cleaning up the ruckus we made.

Guess I should start from the beginning.

[She shifted and laid back into a more comfortable position.]

We stormed the dock, the yard. and the lobby in under 10 minutes. I was vaguely aware of other units attacking from the side, breezing past the wings when the main force of the enemies were drawn to us. But I never saw them, not until kitty cat came to my rescue.

[There was a fond smile, but for some reason, it also looked a little sad.]

I don't know why I went for the caf first. Maybe I was looking for something… or someone, there.

[She sighed.]

I never expected to see her.

[She looked up to the ceiling, and stayed quiet for a while.]

It's a good kind of surprise. I was conflicted, but in the end I thought, 'screw it', and just went with my gut instinct. It went better than I expected.

After we secured the location, we went for the res, then finally the tower. The tower… man…

[She rubbed the stomp where her prosthetic arm should have been.]

It was one hell of a fight. I never truly appreciated what Ruby was up against that night. Now I know. Now everyone knows.

[She smiled softly, but also looked like she was about to cry.]

I knew you'd be great, little sis. I just hope I know where you are, and how you are doing now.

[Her voice choked up near the end of the sentence. She wiped her face with her sleeve, and smiled again.]

Oh well. Anyway.

We fought hard, but just the troop wasn't enough. The profs joined in and it made one hell of a difference. We threw the disadvantage back to its face. Even though… [She chuckled.] Mama dragon smacked little dragon me down like a rag doll. Kitty cat had to haul my sorry ass to one of the medic tents.

[Her smile faltered a little.]

Nobody's seen her other than that. She just kinda showed up and saved my ass, and then she disappeared again.

[She cleared her throat.]

I want to talk to her.

[Her voice was low, and rough.]

I don't care what we talk about. I just want to talk to her. Just ask her how she's been doing, where she's sleeping now, whether she's eating properly, and maybe even… even…

[She cleared her throat again.]

When I woke up, I was already lying on this bed. She wasn't here, not that I'd expected her to be. Though, Coco told me she'd been by my side until yesterday, when she was called to some mission.

…maybe it's, I don't know, fate? Or something. Maybe I'm not meant to see her, or Ruby, or even Ice Queen until this is all over.

But I think it will be over soon. I can see it in CFVY's faces, even CRDL's. We'll make it through. We'll be together again. Maybe not right away. But one day… some day…

[There was a knock on the door, and she fumbled for the camera.]

Just a sec!

-whoa whoa, I thought you guys won't be back until-

[The video cut out.]

Chapter Text

  My visit to “Dan” Hanlon was… peculiar was the only word I could describe it. I visited Dan at the War Veteran Home, where the government offered to support those who suffered too much from the war until the end of their natural life.

“It’s a glorified madhouse.” Dan told me. “Or it has become such, after the last physically handicapped died few years ago.”

When we finally had the chance to go back to Beacon, it was only Lapis and me left. Nickel died during one mission in September that year, and my twin Daffy was one of those who didn’t make it through the Great Retreat. After the battle, I was the only one left on my team.

I won’t bother you with details about the battle. You can hear about them from other veterans who actually won something that day. For me, that battle took away the last good thing on Remnant in my life, and I don’t want to repeat it.

After the dragon was slayed and the whole perimeter was secured, we were supposed to go back to our bases. We didn’t. I’m not sure who started it, or maybe it was just some collective consciousness that drew us toward it, but before I realized it, I was among a sea of people moving toward our dormitory.

We marched one last time that night. We marched not to war, but to our past. A past that we were robbed of and longed to return to.

I guess you can say we were “going home”, because Beacon was our home before the war sneaked up. And soldiers would love nothing more than to return home after a hard fight, even if said home had become nothing but crumbled walls and shattered glasses. It was the memories that mattered. I suppose that’s why the commanders didn’t stop us. Because they, too, yearned for such a chance.

As the looming shadow of our former home came into view, many started trembling and sobbing quietly. In the pale moonlight, it looked so fragile. So alone. So broken. It reminded me of my last visit before grandma passed. Looking at the half collapsed building was like witnessing her withering from the disease that took her life, all over again.

[“But hadn’t you been there when the troop cleared it?”]

Ah, yes. But you must understand, we are trained to push all emotions and feelings to the side when we are fighting. Distractions can be fatal. A good soldier must be able to stay focused on the task at hand, and only sulk after the battle is concluded.

I guess that’s why we had such severe reactions when we approached the fractured building. At a subconscious level, we all knew we were finally home when we touched down, but because there were Grimm to kill, friends to avenge, and a war to win… we suppressed it.

But when the last piece of the Dragon dissolved into the starry night, so did the shackle that locked it all in.

If you go ask everyone who’s there that night, they would probably give you a different answer as to when they broke down. Some who had been through too much collapsed in tears when the last enemy was defeated. Some during the march. Some when they saw the pieces of the dorm, furnitures, and our belongings scattering across the lawn. And some… some held it in all the way until they stood in front of the room they once shared with three other individuals who shared a bond deeper than almost anything in their life.

[Dan stole a quick glance to the bedside table. On it was a picture frame, lying face down on the surface.]

Naturally, we didn’t have the chance to go back to the dorm after what happened. Sometimes you would wake up in the middle of the night, suddenly remembering you left something there.

But what could you do? It was deep behind enemy line, which might as well be the brink of the world…

I think we just tried not to think about it too much. The fire. The destruction. The things we had already lost, and the things that we are afraid to lost. We keep the thoughts away by any means possible, alcohol, drugs, sex, fights… until eventually, we forgot about the smell of food in cafeteria, the warmth of the sun that woke us up every morning, the gentle breeze when we walked past the gardens. Until we forgot what our rooms looked like.

And suddenly- [Dan paused.]

Well, that’s not entirely true. We fought a godforsaken war to get it back. But suddenly the chance was here. The chance we had all been dreaming of since the day Beacon fell. It was like a dream. A dream too good to be true.

When I put my hand on the doorknob, I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up. It must have taken me more than a couple minutes to calm down.

You might find it laughable. Maybe it is, but what does it matter? There were people who couldn’t bring themselves to even get into the building, and I can tell you straight up: no one has the right to laugh at them, or call them cowards.

If you sit down with one of them, and just listen to their stories… listen to all the agonies and sufferings they endured, you will understand. It just hurt too much.

…I digress. Eventually, I got over my nerves and pushed open the door.

[Dan paused, a dreamy expression slowly overtook the calmness.]

You know how books and movies commonly use the expression, “the world grind to a halt and time stopped”? I thought I knew what they meant.

I was wrong.

First thing I noticed - well, first thing anyone would notice when they walked into our room - was all the clothes we threw on our beds. We were all teenagers with sloppy lifestyle, too lazy fold them properly and put them in the closets. Our beds were unmade, or half-made - why bother with it when we were going to came back and just crash right into it and fall asleep? - and there were books lying open on the table, and homework we didn’t get to finish. The laundry basket was half full. It must have smelled really bad after all that time.

[Dan chuckled.]

The room was trashed. I’m not sure if any scavengers visited after our evacuation. I doubt it. And even if someone did come in, they didn’t loot our stuff. Maybe the mess was caused by the Grimm, the weather, or a combination of both. I don’t know.

My eyes continued wandering around the room. There were our stuff all over the floor… bags, pencil cases, CDs, shoes, board games, water bottles. Then, I saw something brown and maroon buried under the dust. It was our uniforms.

That’s when my water bag bursted. I was practically wailing. It still puzzled me how I made it to my own bed in that state. Honestly, I couldn’t care less.

I stumbled to my bed, not to lay down and rest. I staggered my way there so I could grab the picture frame on my bedside table. The glass was shattered, but the frame and the picture were both intact. I don’t know what I would do if they weren’t… [A deep breath.] It’s the last picture of my team together.

I wailed until I was out of breath, then I started weeping. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to cry until I pass out, until the fatigue bring me to the dreamland, where I might be able to see them again.

Some people asked why we even bothered to go back at all. Why didn’t we just leave the past behind?

Those kinds of questions make me angry.

I am the only one on my team who survived the war. My teammates had no bodies to be buried. There was no graves I could visit. The closest thing I had was the epitaph on the monuments where they died.

People need to understand, for many - if not most - of us, that night, back to where it all began, that was the only place we could really mourn. And I don’t mean just for the people we had lost, but also for all the good that was destroyed in the war.

[A bluejay flew to the window and chirped. Dan smiled at it and held out a shaky hand. The bluejay hopped on, and Dan stroke its head gently.]

Eventually, I was completely spent from crying. My tears continued to fall silently and my body shook with all the sorrow and grief from the past three years, but my throat felt like sandpaper. I just couldn’t make any more sound, even if I wanted to. Heck, I could barely move [chuckles] .

As I laid there, one thing became painfully apparent. The emptiness. The loneliness. Each time I closed my eyes, I could see and hear my team laughing and messing around, like we used to, like how we were supposed to. But each time I opened my eyes, they were gone. All that’s left was the overwhelming silence.

The overwhelming silence… no.

My eyes snapped open when I realized I did hear something. I struggled upright, and strained myself to listen. Was that my imagination? Had I gone insane from the pain?

No. It was not my hallucination, and I had not gone mad. Yet.

It was the sounds of other people grieving for what they had lost. I was not the only one who came to lament. I lost three irreplaceable friends. My twin.

Some of them lost their lovers, their soulmates…

Of course, you can’t compare pain. But the idea that I wasn’t the only person drowning in the ocean of despair soothed me. Does it make sense? It comforted me to know that, even though I was alone, I wasn’t the only one alone there.

The echoes were like a lullaby, it drew me to the most peaceful slumber I had since the war began. There was a sense of serenity, of hope, and as unlikely as it sounds, courage.

Before I completely passed out, I heard someone singing. It’s the most beautiful song I have ever heard in my life.
It went something like this…

Now it’s time to say goodbye
To the things we loved
And the innocence of youth
How the time seemed to fly
From our carefree lives
And the solitude and peace we always knew…

[The doctor was waiting outside with a clipboard. She brisked to me as soon as the door opened.]

You are all done? How’s the interview?

[I told her it went well.]

Well…Sorry about the interrogation. I’m just worried.

[She looked toward the door. I was about to excuse myself when she spoke again.]

Team DNDL was placed under my care after their leader sacrificed himself for his team to escape in the Great Retreat.

From what I heard, Dan Hanlon was a brave young man. Maybe not the strongest warrior, but definitely a responsible leader and a good brother. They told me he was always fighting alongside his teammates in the frontline, always rushing to their rescue.

They told me that he spent a lot of time to get to know his teammates, until he became so bonded to them that it was as if he could read the minds of everyone in his team. Dan was someone that all three of them looked up to.

[She sighed and tapped her clipboard absent-mindedly.]

Maybe that’s why this happened. After the tragedy that claimed young Dan’s live, his team was sent to me for psychological evaluation.

They were grieving, but there wasn’t anything out of ordinary. I mean, who could have thought…

[She shook her head.]

That poor kid must have been keeping it inside all those time for her team. Maybe she thought her team needed her brother more than they needed her.

The string had been straining since she witnessed her twin brother’s death, but we still don’t know what made her snap.

Anyway. I better go check on her. You never know what might trigger the explosion. Please sign here.

[She handed over the clipboard. Under the box that read, “Patient Name” was the neatly typed words “Daffy Hanlon”. I signed my name and left the institution.]

Chapter Text

Ms. Coco Adel has been voted one of the top 10 most favorite Huntsmen in Vale for the past fifteen years. Her popularity is well-founded, and especially obvious in the numerous requests of interviews, seminars, and other event opportunities. However, despite the fame, Ms. Adel rarely accepted any invitation. That’s why I was extremely surprised to receive a reply for my request.

Do you remember that earthquake? The one that almost brought down the temporary CCT tower? Thinking back, that was just the prelude to the real war, the true crisis few know about even to this day.

Of course, all that came years later. At that time, all we knew was the threat at our doorstep. The shadow cast by the li-

[She cleared her throat.]

You know that old saying? ‘It’s the darkest before dawn?’

What they don’t say is, there would be moments you doubt whether the darkness would ever dissipate. The epitome of that darkness during the war was the Grimm Tide.

It came as unexpected as it was ferocious. Some of the cruelest tragedies happened in those ten days, in the darkest nights when we thought dawn would never break.

I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? [She chuckled.] My team kept telling me it’s a bad habit.

Anyway, I better start from a bit earlier.

After Atlas came with their technical aid and military support, the government started rebuilding the CCT tower. The real deal wasn’t finished until nearly a year after, but they erected a temporary one good enough to re-establish continental communication within months. Despite the many limitations to the system, such as the signal strength, reliability, and link rate, it was enough to help coordinate military operations and provide early warnings to Grimm attacks.

On the other side, the temporary tower also expanded and boosted the local area network. News of the reclamation of Beacon spread across the kingdom. Footages from soldiers’ cameras were broadcasted on repeat, showcasing this glorious triumph.

Not enough people appreciate what it meant. For those who were lucky to be evacuated into the cities, they learn of the victory in newspaper or from words on the street. They would know about it without the broadcast. That’s why its effect was downplayed often among historians. That’s why you should look to the rural areas, to the towns and villages and fortresses that cut off their contact with the outside world to save themselves from the Grimm and the bandits.

As we later learned, many such settlements still held on to the hope that one day, they would hear something other than static from their television or radio. Our voice - and a voice that told them victory is possible no less - was like a miracle. A blessing. Many lives were saved because of that temporary tower. Because of the broadcast.

But it’s not just that. Like I said, the tower enabled commands to plan long-distance military operation, further widening the effective area the troops could cover courtesy to a functional communication system. Moreover, it revived our dying economy.

When the CCT system collapsed during the Fall of Beacon, all trades ceased. Not overnight, mind you, but abrupt enough that it caused a major panic for citizens that did not live in a self-sufficient community. Some died of starvation, some lacked access to clean water, and some to the defenses that crumbled like paper when Grimm attacked.

Over the months and years, people learned to adapt. Small communities merged into bigger ones, or traded with each other for raw materials and manpower. I suppose one could argue any group that couldn't do so would have been eliminated one way or another. That's a whole other can of worms, so I won't go there.

The point is, after the tower was functional,business sprouted out like grass after the spring rain, which also jump-started our offenses. We learned how other civilians kept themselves alive, and passed on that knowledge. Modified shovels, pitchforks, and other tools… it's truly amazing, the sheer creativity of some of those inventions.

On a more personal level, the temporary system also gave some the chance to find out what happened to their friends, families, or even lovers. A simple conversation of no more than five minutes with a presumably dead loved ones did more for the psyche for the people than all the “inspirational films” the feds produced during the whole damn war.

So finally, the feds decided it was time to “reclaim our pride and honor”. With the new comm system, the kingdoms began their international operations, and within the kingdoms, we were sent to actively repel the Grimm from our lost territories.

The unit my team was in - Battalion 428 - got sent to the village of Hope. It’s our fifth mission after the Crusade four months prior. We all knew the drill by then, though we still kept our guards up - rule number one as a Huntsmen: never be careless, even if you’ve done the same mission for over a thousand times.

On our third day at the village, the Tide began. My team were out in the field clearing out a couple nests reported by the villagers. We did some hard work on one nest, but then on the next one…

[The confident smile faded and she fell quiet. I asked her what happened.]

Nothing happened. I mean literally, there was nothing waiting for us.

Few minutes ago we were still exterminating Grimm, but next, we were standing on a supposed hotspot, with not a shadow of our enemy in sight.

[“Wasn’t that supposed to be a good thing? Not seeing any Grimm around?”]

On the contrary. It could mean a lot of things, many of which had devastating implications. It could mean the map was off. There could be more dangerous and intelligent Grimm than we knew. Maybe even new species…  Oum knows how many dormant ones popped up during the war.

Or, it could mean something sinister was brewing in the darkness. A repeat of the Strawburg Disaster. To this day, not one Grimm expert could give a satisfactory explanation as to what exactly happened in that town.

The eerie silence unnerved us all, but Velvet reacted to it the strongest. She got paler and could barely contain her shivering the deeper we went into the forest. Like she was suddenly becoming ill.

I think it had something to do with her heritage - Faunus are always more sensitive to the change of the environment. [She tapped the side of her sunglasses.] Once you learn how to read your Faunus teammates or squadmates, you begin picking up on the signs too subtle for Human to detect.

It was only the sixth site on a list of twenty-five, so we went on to inspect the other ones. If it’s just one site that came up empty, it could be explained away as a simple mistake in the report.

Instead, we found the other sites dead silent and empty as well. We checked all nineteen others, just to be sure, even though we knew something had gone horribly wrong. Something we couldn’t see and couldn’t defeat in that forest. With each empty nest, we quickened our steps. In less than two hours, we returned to the camp.

We hurried back to report our findings to the commander, Lieutenant Colonel Seymour. He was already instructing the battalions to fortify the defenses around the village. We learned soon that other teams had similar experience.

He’s a good man, our commander. Always took our words seriously, and never second-guessed our professional opinion as Huntsmen.

For five days we holed up in the village, patrolling on the hastily but sturdily built walls. For five days we looked out to the forest that laid few kilometers away from the border. For five days, everything was quiet.

Then suddenly they came.

In one moonless night, the Grimm emerged. My team was on patrol. I still remember the shrill cry of the alarm that cut through the overwhelming silence.

I don't know where they came from. The forest. The underground. Maybe the darkness itself. They just… materialized.

At first, I only saw a few of them. Ursas and Creeps and other species that you could hear with trained ears. I expected more would show up soon, but I wasn’t afraid. Behind us, the battalion was mobilizing. With our stocked up firepower, we could clear out the hundreds of Grimm estimated to be around this village.

But when other guards aimed the searchlight to the incoming force, I froze. So did others who climbed up the defense.

There weren’t hundreds, but hundred thousands of them. The ground was covered in an ocean of black, with only the white plate armors and those blood red eyes glimmering. The plan to go out and meet them in the open was instantly thrown out of the window. We barely held them back from the initial attack.

When the momentum of their charge died down, Lieutenant Colonel Seymour sent a runner to each station, relaying the message to each of us. The Grimm had surrounded the village. We were essentially pinned in the cage, with nowhere to run. It’s going to be a siege.

The 48 Huntsmen - we originally had 52, but four went down - were divided into three rotations. Sixteen at a time, guarding the walls eight hours straight. The commander made sure we had plenty of time to sleep and eat, but refused any of our attempts to aid the villagers. He told us sternly, for every Huntsman toppling over, the defense weakens, and consequently, the chance of saving the villagers diminishes.

We understood. Of course we understood. But it was against our training, our goal, the very essence of our profession as Huntsmen to turn away from the cries for help.

It was hard, not only the physical aspect, but psychological as well. You can limit our interactions with the villagers or even the other soldiers, but you can’t stop the whispers of how much ration we had left, the whimperings of the villagers, and other worries. They were a source of worry. Of distraction.

And you don’t want to be distracted when you’re on guard duty.

On the third day of the siege, when it became obvious the Grimm were there to stay, the commander finally told us what he learned from the command center at Vale.

The center was in complete chaos. Most of the units they sent out met the same surprise attack, and requested some form of backup. The few that didn’t… they assumed the worst.

The command center instructed us to hole up at Hope and wait for reinforcement, but they couldn’t tell us how long it would take. You could see the realization of our impending doom on everyone’s face. It stayed with us for the rest of the day, and the days after.

[She rubbed her temple, as if to dispel the expression from years ago.]

Ten days after the siege began, the Grimm population started returning to normal.

In the beginning, we thought it was just because we had thinned out their ranks with our continuous effort. We fought harder, even though the Grimm showed no sign of tiring or retreating. The battle shifted with each charge of the Grimm, each bullet shot through our barrels, flipping back and forth between desperate and hopeful.

Five more days, and all returned to normal. The Lieutenant Colonel phoned the Vale command again, and this time, finally some good news.

Other units also reported Grimm dispersing from their location. Once the way cleared, relief units would be sent out to replace the battle worn battalions. We could return home soon.

I breathed a sigh of relief when Lieutenant Colonel Seymour told us. Loath as we might to admit it, we were all hard pressed to our limit. If the siege stretched on, we could have another Sandycove [*] on our hand.

[*: The tragedy of Sandycove was among one of the most terrifying incident recorded during the war. Five thousands were trapped in the small city during a siege that lasted for seven months. When the city was finally liberated, survivors told gruesome tales of desperation, bloodshed, and cannibalism. ]

But the lieutenant colonel looked worried still. I caught him after the debriefing and asked what’s with the frowning. He was reluctant at first, but eventually let on.

Since the communication system was still a work in progress, not all units were equipped with, or had operators trained to use it. He feared that other units either didn’t have the opportunity to request assistance, or that they might be so shaken up by the sudden assault that they did not realize the worst was over.

[“Did you volunteered your team to send messages to those units?”]

No. Even if I had no problem volunteering for this suicide mission, my live was not my own.

[She looked fondly at a photograph on the table. In it were four young men and women, standing side by side, showing off their weapons.]

I had people who relied on me. And it would not be fair to ask them to throw their lives away with me.

[“So what did you do?”]

What any sensible leader would do. I saluted and walked away.

I thought about what I should do on my way back to our tent. I wanted to help. Fear could make people do all sorts of terrible things. Just like Sandycove. One of my childhood friends was there, and he was one of the… victims.

We had turned away from so many people already. So many lives were lost because we weren’t strong enough. Because we couldn’t help. I don’t want to feel that helpless again. That’s not what Huntsmen were supposed to be. Like what the headmaster said, Huntsmen should be the beacons of hope. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if similar tragedy happened, and I could have done something.

I made up my mind before I reached my team’s tent. Deception was out of the question. My teammates deserved my honesty.

But I wouldn’t want my team to follow me. I was going to tell them to follow the main troop back to Vale. There would be other volunteers from other teams and the soloists, and I would join them. That’s what I decided.

And then, Velvet tackled me when I walked in.

It was at that moment that I knew they all knew. About my conversation with the commander, and of what I was going to do.

While Yatsu gently pried Velv off me, Fox came up quiet as his namesake and tapped me on the shoulder.

“You aren’t gonna tell us to go with everyone else, are you?” He said, almost accusingly.

Yatsu patted Velv gently, but kept his gaze on me.

“We respect you, Coco, but…” He trailed off.

Velv said nothing, but hugged me even more tightly.

And that’s how we all ended up volunteering for the messenger mission.

[“How long did you have to travel?”]

Overall? It took us fifty six days to complete the mission and return to Vale. But trouble found us merely days after we set out.

I’m still not sure exactly which Grimm caused Velv to fall so severely ill. We encountered dozens of Grimm everyday. On top of that, we had to keep our Scrolls off most of the time, lest the battery ran out when we actually needed it.

I considered calling the commander to extract Velv, but knew any support would be unlikely given the already stretched manpower. After all, that’s precisely why we were even on this mission.

Nine days after we separated from the main troop, Velv’s condition worsened to a degree that she could no longer suppress her whimpers with each step. We took turn carrying, or supporting her, much to her protest.

None of us knew exactly how to treat her illness because of the confusing symptoms, despite the survival trainings. Our supply kits were packed when we set out, but it emptied soon, while none of the medications seemed to work.

On the twelfth day, I made a decision.

Fox found me packing in the middle of the night. He asked what I was doing. Yatsu and Velv both woke up from his voice.

I didn’t try to conceal my action, both because I was too exhausted to, and because I plan to tell them anyway.

I told them I was going to go into the forest we had skirted around for the past few days and search for some herbs. The probability of finding something useful was slim, but I had to try.

He nodded slowly, hesitantly, and asked why it couldn’t wait until daybreak.

So I told him. I planned to go alone.

All three of them started protesting immediately. Velv even tried to get up, even though at this point she could barely move her limbs. I caught her just when her legs gave out.

I explained as calmly as I could while holding her. It had to be me. The team leaders received special trainings both in Beacon and in the army. I knew a little bit more about what to look for. Besides, someone had to take care of Velv and someone had to guard them while I’m away.

They tried to argue, but they knew I was right.

“If I don’t come back in three days, take Velv and get the hell out of here.” I stroke her hair, trying not to tremble. “There’s no time.”

It took some more time, but I was finally able to convince them to stay. They accompanied me to the edge of the forest anyway, and stubbornly stayed even when I told them to go back to our campsite.

I will always remember how Velv tried to hold onto my hands as long as she could, how her eyes pleaded with me to not go, how her breath came out short and shallow. It broke my heart. I wanted to stay by her side and held her close, to tell her that everything’s gonna be alright. But I can’t. Not until I find some way to help her.

I steeled myself. I’ve always hated being alone. My minigun is suitable for long-distance, wide-area attack. I’m not that good at close combat. If an enemy caught me off balance in closer quarter, it would be over for me in no time.

But there’s no time to hesitate or be afraid. Velv needed me. So I threw away my fear, and walked into the silent forest.

I won’t go into details about my adventure. Most of them blurred together, and I’m not sure what’s real and what’s my fear-induced imagination, anyway. So here we go.

The first day, everything was going okay. I found some plants that, while might not cure her, would at least help with her pain.

The second day, I was much deeper in the forest. Something felt wrong. My instinct screamed for me to turn back, but I pressed on. The overwhelming urge to find something to help Velv overcame my fear.

And then, things became really strange.

I’m not sure when Day 2 ended and Day 3 began. I couldn’t keep track of time. Even when I chanced to turn on my Scroll, the device was unresponsive. I gave up on the idea of checking for time after a few tries, but I knew the three day limit was coming up fast.

At some point of day 3, everything began blurring together. All I can recall were hazy forests, dancing shadows, and my unsteady footsteps. That is, until I stumbled upon the Virgin’s Tears.

Do you know what that is? The Virgin’s Tears?

[I shook my head.]

It’s a rare plant, said to be found only in the highest of the cliff, the most isolated meadow, or… [She smirked.] in the deepest of the forest. It’s so rare that some thought it was made-up stuff from folklores. But they do exist.

According to stories, the tea brewed from the leaves of this plant acts as a natural painkiller. The scent of its flower can be concentrated into perfume or put into sachet that can give a person the strength to walk three days without sleep. The most astonishing effect, however, came from the fruits, which was said could cure, or ease any kind of poison.

I didn’t really know all that at the moment, but I recalled seeing the shape of it from somewhere. Maybe one of my textbooks, or from old stories. I didn’t remember. All I knew was this could help my friend.

I scrambled to gather as many as I could. For the first time in Oum knows how long, I was aware and focused again. Maybe it had something to do with my proximity to the plant and the effect of its scent. I don’t know.

I carefully plucked the leaves, the flowers, and the buds, putting them into the airtight tubes I prepared with me. I don’t know how much time had passed. All I could think about was the plants I held shakily between my fingers. They could save Velvet. I just knew it.

I was so lost in the gathering that I didn’t notice the Grimm gradually surrounding me. The first attacker drove its claws deep into my left shoulder. [She gestured at her shoulder blade.] I’m convinced it didn’t claw out my heart because of some mysterious force that made me shift slightly out of the way.

I tucked the three tubes into my belt as I rolled away. Adrenaline kicked in, and all I felt at the bloody mess on my shoulder was a pinch. I took one look around, and knew I had to run. I have barely any Aura left.

There were twelve of them. Monsters I had never seen before. I described them to the specialists at GISP a few times later, and they all agreed they were most likely Class Bs, and that I was lucky to survive their ambush. [She chuckled softly.] I didn’t need them to tell me about the latter part.

I ran and ran. The scenery didn’t change. All I could see was dark grass, dark trees, and darker still shadows. The rustling behind me followed relentlessly. A few times, I thought I felt a chilling breeze brushing against my neck, like something tried swiping its claws at me but missed. I didn’t dare to look back.

When fatigue began setting in, so did the pain from my injury. It began as a dull ache. Then, with every pulse, the pain grew just a bit stronger, until it felt like tiny little claws were driving in the wound again and again.

It hurt so much, I thought I was going to black out several times.

Against the rushing wind, I could hear the devils speaking. They told me to give up. It would be so easy. Just slow down. Take the few deep breaths my lungs so desperately craved. Close my eyes and let the darkness take me away. I wouldn’t have to suffer anymore, they told me, the war along with all the pains and sufferings could end right there, right then, if I just gave up.

Each time I was about to step over the ledge, I would reach for the containers fastened to my side, or dig my fingers into my wound.

I couldn’t give up. I couldn’t die there. Velv still needed me. My team still needed me.

And more importantly, I needed them.

I almost cried when light broke through the darkness and I saw Yatsu standing at the edge of the forest. His face turned from subtle worry, to surprise, and finally to outright fear when he ran up to meet me. I fell unconscious before I landed in his arms.

When I woke up again, I was on his back. He was sprinting at full speed.

“Are they…” I croaked, “are they still behind us?”

My voice startled him, and he turned halfway to meet my gaze, but only for a brief moment. “No.” He said. “Whatever was chasing you returned to the shadow.”

I smiled, but then frowned. “Then why are you running?”

He was quiet for the longest time. I thought he didn’t hear me, and was about to ask again, when I heard his voice again, choking. “It’s Velvet.” He said. I tensed up immediately, my foggy brain cleared by the fear. “I don’t know if she’s going to make it.”

We didn’t spare any glance at Fox when we charged into the tent. I rolled off Yatsu’s back and lurched to Velv’s side, somehow finding strength from the injured and fatigued body. I snapped the tubes from my belt, and froze.

They were empty.

Velvet woke up from the ruckus I made. She tugged my sleeves gently when I was done screaming. She pulled me closer to her and raised a hand shakily to wipe away my tears.

I still relive that moment in my nightmares. [She looked away. Her voice became distant.]

“Coco, leave me.” She whispered in that fragile, raspy voice, but smiled the bravest and most brilliant smile. “Save them. Go save them.”

[She fell silent. We sat in stillness for a full minute, listening to soft wind blowing outside the cabin, and the crackling of logs in the fireplace. Finally, I gathered enough courage to speak up.]

[“Did she…?”]

Huh? Oh.

[She chuckled. There was a slight tap on the door, and Ms. Adel called out lovingly, “come in.” The door creaked open. The person carrying a tray of tea and cookies was none other than Ms. Scarlatina.]

By some miracle, she fully recovered.

Logically, it should have been impossible. Yet, when you consider the lores and tales regarding the Virgin’s Tears… [She shook her head.]

We all survived the war. Though, only the two of us are still alive. [She beckoned for Ms. Scarlatina to come closer. Ms. Scarlatina’s face reddened, but obeyed. I coughed and looked away when Ms. Adel nonchalantly pulled her into her lap.]

Fox passed few years after the war, when the family disease that blinded him from birth eventually claimed his live as well. Yatsu went during the Battle of the Five Seals. We are the remaining half of team CFVY.

[“And the wound?”]

Mine healed quickly after we reached the next village and found ourselves a doctor. Velvet’s, however, remained a lingering issue.

[Ms. Scarlatina smiled shyly.] It wasn’t too bad, really. But I can’t ignore the implication after the effect became more prominent after all these years. That’s why I returned my Huntress license.

[Ms. Adel patted her knees.] But she still follows me out for missions whenever she could. Off the record, you understand.

The trauma from the war will, most likely, never fade. The wounds may no longer bleed, but they left scars that permanently branded us in sorrow. It never gets any easier, and we don’t expect it to be. It will stay with us until our day has come.

The people we lost will never come back, and there’s no guarantee we will ever see them again in some afterlife paradise.

But there is one salvation. There’s one small victory that even time won’t be able to take away. One comfort we will always have.

[She paused and looked at Ms. Scarlatina. It was the most gentle smile I had ever seen on her face, both during our interview and in any other public records I could find.]

At least for now, we have each other.

[When I left, I had the sudden urge to look back. I saw Ms. Adel taking Ms. Scarlatina’s hand gently in hers as they walked back into the cabin. The rings on their fingers glistened a warm light in the setting sun.]

Chapter Text

 Commander Arc is something of a legend, even among heroes such as the Huntsmen. His Semblance and appearance earned him the much loved nickname, The Holy Knight of Vale. Combined with his rumored involvement with the Guardians, tracing as far back as the Silent War, many suspected he had been the chosen successor of Warden Ozpin. He was praised as the symbol of peace and hope in this new era. When I mentioned this, he looked rather somber.

“They are mistaken. All of what I have should belong to someone else.” But beyond this cryptic objection, he refused to comment on it any further, stating “it is a wound that hasn’t healed.”

When asked about his youth, he laughed and bewildered me with all sorts of rather comedic stories about his school life, painting him as a goofy, awkward young man. He insisted I call him Jaune.

We were not, strictly speaking, part of the Guardians. Not in the beginning, anyhow.

In the earliest day of the war, I lost someone… dear to me. Someone significant. Someone I still dream about every night when I drift off to sleep. I was not in a good place. My world lost some of its magic, some of the colors, and they remain amiss ever since.

Not being there for any chance of a proper goodbye made things worse… or perhaps better, now that I think about it. I was a weak-willed, fragile man. If I saw her go, I don’t know if I could ever get back up.

Some months after the Fall of Beacon, during which I nearly dug myself into a hole of grieve, I received a message from one of my closest friends. She intended to set out in search of answers, and asked if we would accompany her on the journey.

To say the request gave me a sense of purpose is a gross understatement. At that time, when the sea of uncertainty threatened to drown us in its abyss of despair, it was the lone piece of driftwood that kept me afloat. I found the courage to step out of the hotel room I holed up in, and I never looked back.

Our small expedition of four set out in one winter morning from Patch. The path was arduous, full of dangers and shadows that proved time and again I was too weak to save anyone. We found villages burning, people slaughtered, and all sorts of different horror. With each stop, our morale dropped down another flight of stairs.

If not for Ruby, we would not have come near as far.

[He stopped himself, cleared his throat, and continued on as if nothing happened.]

Our journey took a drastic turn when we came upon the wounded Warden Ozpin. We halted to tend to his injuries and, as reluctant as I was to hear even a word out of his mouth, we listened to his explanations of the turn of events that led up to that point.

I knew he was somehow involved with the tragedy that night, but I never expected what he told us. It angered me more than I thought possible. The Four Maidens. The secret brotherhood of the Guardians. The dangerous fanatics called the Vindicates…

I realized what critical role he played in the death and destruction that marked the beginning of this war, and I became so enraged that my companions had to restrain me.

How could he, the strongest and most intelligent Hunters, have failed to protect us?

I couldn’t understand. Or rather, I refused to understand.

There was something bigger at work than we could comprehend at that time. The danger ran deeper than the power of the Maidens, or the war on our doorstep. Hundreds of years ago, the Warden and Stewards of the brotherhood decided to hide the Maidens in order to protect them. They bled and died for their cause for generations, without asking for anything in return.

To you, it sounded noble. It sounded glorious. It couldn’t be farther from the truth.

See, in the long history between their struggle with the darkness, the Guardians sacrificed everything. Not only did they give up their lives, their families and friends, their normalcy, but also quite frequently, their humanity.

And that’s the unbearable part. In the end, the death of P- her , meant nothing. Just a chess piece driven off the board. We were all chess pieces. Everything that happened was the consequence of someone’s game. The Vindicates might be the ones who started it, but in the end, the Guardians gradually became numb to it as well.

My doubts plagued me. Weeks dragged into months. I tried so hard to trust the Headmaster again, but every time I looked to him, I saw the man standing on the steps, beckoning her to death.

As I struggled with my inner demons, the Guardians gathered. We stuck around, even though I longed to continue toward Haven.

Qrow Branwen was one of the first Huntsmen to find us - I suspect he had been following us since we left Patch. He looked relieved, but unsurprised when he saw the Headmaster. For the first few weeks, he would leave for a few days, then suddenly show up with another Hunter or Huntress in tow. Once enough people gathered to form a small village, he started disappearing for longer durations.

As days slowly rolled by, the Warden decided it’s high time this small army was put to use. He started sending out the Rangers - brilliant fighters and scouts. Provoke local resistance, recruiting more able Huntsmen, secure strategic locations, and so on.

Their manpower soon stretched to the limit. Because of this, as well as the eagerness of everyone except for me, the four of us began partaking some missions as well.

We were still not part of the Guardians at that point. Everybody knew that, but some people started calling us the “Young Rangers”, probably referring to our names and the team naming rule.

It made things awkward and tense between my teammates and our fourth member. As much as we loved and respected her, it just felt wrong. Not only because she had her own team, but also… [He twitched his lips upward, but there was no smile in it.] …we will always be Team JNPR. She… she cannot be replaced, no matter how much time has passed. No matter what happens.

[“So what did the fourth member do?”]

Being the sensitive and sweet person she was, she noticed how much it bothered me of course. She was very vocal in denying the four of us was a team. She even tried to isolate herself from us whenever someone else was around.

And I let her. Because I couldn’t see past my own pain.

It must have been even more difficult on her than us. We still had each other, but she was all by herself. Her team was scattered all across Remnant. One of them was taken back to Atlas. Another had her spirit broken. And only Oum knows where the last one was and what she was doing.

Yet, she stayed strong for all of us. She always did.

You don’t hear them praising “Team RNJR”, only “Team JNR”. Our names will be repeated to the future generations, I'm sure. They will one day sit in the classrooms we once spent our youth in, trying to remember the dates and names from a period they could hardly imagine. The Four Maidens, the Guardians, the Vindicates, the generals, and the politicians. We will be remembered.

But not her. Not the greatest hero of our generation.

[He stroke the small silver cross around his neck.]

Years ago, I would have protested at the unfairness of this prospect. But now I understand. Like a wise man once told me, “Some heroes are not meant to be celebrated.”

[He got up to make more tea. His voice drifted over the marble countertop.]

Fast forward to a few months later. We arrived at the mainland of Dracones along with the rest of the Guardians. The others clued into the whole Young Ranger thing and stopped referring to us as a team. I was feeling much better about everything in general, though I still didn’t trust Ozpin. At the very least, I was cooperative enough, and the agony had dulled into a manageable level.

We took on several missions together, the four of us. We had grown much stronger during this time, maybe not quite comparable to seasoned Huntsmen yet, but good enough that we could handle most things thrown our ways. One day, the Headmaster sent us to scout ahead.

It was just another routine mission. Go out there, observe what could be seen, don’t get killed, and report back.

We were talking about the leafless we just passed by, the dried up rivers we discovered along the way, and just the barrenness in this part of Remnant unlike any other places we’d been.

The arrow came out of nowhere.

I raised my shield before I consciously knew what’s happening but lost my balance. The arrow bounced off with a sharp clink. I fell to my knees, and saw from beneath my cover my friends turning sharply in a defensive stance. Their weapons full deployed.

“Who’s there!” Ren challenged our unknown adversary.

I stood up and readied myself for an ambush. We stood back to back, watching all sides cautiously. I was counting all the places our enemies could hide.

And then, she stepped out of the shadow.

I thought I was dreaming. It’s impossible.

Lightly curled red hair dancing in the wind like autumn flame. Pair of bright green eyes that reminded me of the flowery hill behind my family farm.

Her name burned in my throat, choking me.

But it all went away in an instant. The magic shattered when she took a menacing step forward. That simple gesture was full of her prowess and ferocity, but lacked the grace I utterly expected to be there.

As I got a better look, my desire and fantasy crumbled. The young woman standing before us, few years our junior, was nothing like the person I longed to see.

“That is my question. Strangers.” She said. Her muscles tensed as her hands raised to stretch the string of her bow again. “Who are you? And why do you intrude my clan’s hunting ground? Speak!”

It took us quite some time to diffuse the situation and convince her that we meant no harm. That in fact, we didn’t even know there were people here. She was skeptical of our words.

“Those who last claimed such things led the Cursed Ones to my clan.” She hissed. “Many of my people perished with screams of agony, while those maleficus laughed.”

This bit of information peaked our interests. Those “witches”, as I later learned what maleficus meant in her language, could very well be Cinder and whoever she was working with. We begged for her to tell us more.

I am still not sure what changed her mind to trust us. She never told me when I asked. But she took us to her tribe, and we met the nomads of Peregrinans.

She escorted us to see the tribe leader, who also happened to be her father. On our way, she revealed her name hesitantly. Piroska Nyilas.

What a fitting name. I remember thinking to myself when I learned the meaning behind those two words. It described her perfectly, but also disappointedly. I knew she was never the person I was seeking, but still… the desire lingered like a ghost.

We met Imrus, the tribe leader. He was a tall man, strong and wise. The scars covering his body bore witness to the countless battles and experience hidden within that muscular body. He greeted us warmly, despite the disapproving looks his daughter shot him. We explained our presence, the group we came with, and of our encounter with Piroska.

Imrus listened to everything with a slight nod, and asked us many question in turn. Gradually, it became clear he was particularly interested in one of us. That’s the first time I heard anyone commenting on her silver eyes.

[“Silver eyes?”]

Yes. And I mean real silver. Not grey. Silver, as in it sparkles and twinkles like the stars. You haven’t met anyone with such eyes, have you?

[I thought long and hard. People’s eye color is a strange thing to pay attention to. In most of cases, I only noticed how they are shaped, or displayed the person’s emotions. I shook my head.]

I figured as much. [He chuckled and returned with his tea.]

Anyway, in the middle of our talk, we heard warhorns blown from far distance. One followed after another. Imrus’ expression changed. He stood up and rushed outside, as did Piroska. We followed after.

A large group of Grimm were heading toward the tribe, one shaken young man told us. They had taken his father and brothers when they were collecting woods.

Imrus roared some curses, and ordered the tribe warriors to prepare for battle. I volunteered the four of us to assist the tribe. My friends looked surprised at first, but patted my shoulder. Their smiles told me all I needed to know.

Piroska was the only one who did not have any faith in our abilities. She protested when Imrus looked meaningfully at us - or perhaps, just one of us.

Ignoring her, Imrus welcomed us to their ranks. He instructed his daughter t accompany us to the northwest defense line. Piroska was quite unhappy at the arrangement, but reluctantly complied.

We were both surprised by the other’s skills, maybe she more so than us. I never dreamed that someone who never received any training from one of the Huntsmen school could fight as well as she did. But then again, she had lived in the wilderness all her life, lulled to sleep by the cries of untamed beasts and nurtured by every wound she received. Maybe it was rude for me to feel that astonished.

We eliminated the threat with relative ease, but dared not to let our guards down until the watchtower signaled that danger had passed.

[He paused, and entwined his fingers together.]

…there were moments. Moments at which I thought I was hallucinating again.

I thought I saw her in her moves. Each strike was so on point. Each dodge seemed so effortless. She dominated the battlefield like her . The invincible.

But something was always amiss. Something always distinguished one from the other.

[He closed his eyes. His knuckles turned white from the force. He whispered the next few sentences, like they were not directed to me, but to himself.]

I just wanted to see her again. To hear her voice again. To feel her again.

Maybe I was too greedy, and that was the reason the unforgiving gods took no pity on me. They grew bored and tired of my prayers, and decided to send someone who would forever remind me of my weakness. Or maybe they did, and she was my salvation. I still cannot decide, years after our introduction. I know not whether she was the angel to free my soul, or the devil to torment my heart.

[He shook his head. His voice returned to its formal steadiness and calm.]

After the battle was over, we returned to Imrus. He thanked us for our assistance and offered to host a small feast in our honor. We declined as politely as we could, explaining we must return to our group. He bade us farewell, or in his words, “may you have all the guidances the Gods can offer,” and asked his daughter to escort us back where we were found. Piroska nodded without objection this time.

At the edge of the leafless forest, just after we exchanged goodbyes, she called out to me.

I turned. She jogged up with a mixed expression.

“A song echoes in the wind near you.” She said, a bit awkwardly. “The great warriors of the past come to your aid whenever you swing your blade.”

I smiled. Maybe my predecessors had been watching over me after all.

“...but I also sense a gentle wind on your side. A strong spirit protects you and your comrades, whenever you raise your shield.”

I blinked several times, slowly, before my mind registered and processed her words. I bit into my cheeks, hard enough to draw blood, as I struggled to prevent the burning liquid from spilling out from my eyes.

“They are always with you.” She said, a little bit more confidently. “They are the wind that caress your cheek. They are the stars that guide your way. They are the songs in the spring. They are the flowers that your fingers brushed against. They are the love within your heart.”

She laid a hand on my chest. Exactly the place where she had, years ago.

“They will always be with you, always.”

I sank to my knees after she was out of sight, and cried until my body gave out. Until my voice was hoarse, and I was so exhausted that I drifted off to sleep, to a time when we were young once again and back to those carefree days.

I remember what she said to me, countless times before.

“I’m glad to be on your team, Jaune.” She would always say. Sometimes out of nowhere. Sometimes when I started doubting myself and she had to come hold my hands, quite literally.

For months I thought I need to try my hardest to forget, but at that moment, I realized I had it all backwards.

I remembered the warmth of her body, the pleasant fragrance of cinnamon and pumpkin that always soothed me. Always made me happy.

“I’m glad to have met you, Jaune.” She would always say. “And I want you to know, my great leader and treasured friend, I will follow you to the end.”

Chapter Text

My journey started, in fact, more than a decade ago. Back then, I was a freelance journalist in Atlas. My first project was the modern history of Atlesian society, which naturally led me to requesting an interview with the then CEO of Schnee Dust Company, Miss Weiss Schnee. This record took place some three years after the end of the Silent War, and nine years before I set my course on reporting the various stories you have read thus far. Now, it had been more than fifteen years since that morning, but I could still recall with vivacity of my experience.

Ms. Schnee was, as expected, unbelievably busy. I lost count of how many time I had heard her secretaries apologizing to me when I called to check for her availability. In fact, I almost gave up on securing an interview once I heard rumors circulating her departure from Atlas.

To my surprise, just before I dismissed the idea altogether, I received a phone call from Ms. Schnee herself one evening. She expressed her desire to have this interview. However, as she informed me, I must not expect the interview to be long, or informative, as her busy schedule would likely prevent our discussion to reach that point.

Needless to say, I agreed to those terms immediately. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, and I was not about to pass it off.

As the designated time approached, I sat nervously in my messy apartment, wondering whether she would actually be there. She was right on time. Not a second too early not a second too late. As soon as the clock jump to 10:30, the call came.

I cannot stay for long.

[“I understand. Thank you for agreeing to this interview.”]

So what would you like to know? Please be specific, or I’ll have to redirect you to other credible sources.

[“I’m writing a piece about the modern history of the Atlesian society, so I’d like to ask about your ascension to the head of the family. When did it start? What happened along the way? How did you overcome the obstacles?”]

It started the day my sister renounced her status as the heiress. Father adjusted my lessons as he saw fit for the future heiress… do you have a more specific time frame?

[“How about the war?”]

The war? I suppose I can do that.

Of the hundreds of students and spectators who came to the Vytal Festival, I was one of the ‘lucky’ few who was taken home immediately after everything settled down. Father came to Vale personally to see to my safe return. Sometimes I wonder whether he thought I might refuse if he sent anyone else.

Sometimes I wonder if it would have made any difference if I stayed, and for better or for worse.

I went to Beacon, you already know that. The night it happened, two of my teammates were seriously injured. I lost track of my partner in the battle, who was not found until hours later by other Huntsmen when the area was somewhat secured.

Before the airship I took even landed, I could already see the plane bearing the Schnee crest. Words of my partner’s relatively good condition just reached me, so I went with him without protest.

“They will be fine.” I remember trying to convince myself as I stared out of the airplane window. The sky was tranquil. Clouds rolled by lazily, calmly. One would never suspect the kind of turmoil raging thousands feet below. At such height, you feel like nothing could ever harm you.

After I was safely back on our family estate, Father brought me to his office, sat me down on the couch, and kneeled in front of me. He took my hands, said nothing, and simply examined me from head to toe.

When he was satisfied, he stood up, and told me I would be foolish to try to learn what’s happening in Vale.

I knew that. I saw the CCT destroyed by the Dragon. An idea struck me.

“Father,” I tried not to sound too urgent and kept my composure. “Do you know what happened to my team?”

He looked back evenly. I couldn’t tell whether he was angry.

“Don’t ask questions you are not ready to hear the answer.”

Sometimes I wonder whether it would have made a difference if I had stayed.

Winter came home a few days later, when the Atlesian troops all returned from Vale. I think she came to make sure I wouldn't get any idea to join the front line. I was still a child.

But so were my team. We were all still children.

Her worry was unnecessary. Once I recovered from the battle, Father started taking me to business meetings and social events I could normally get away with. I was practically under surveillance in my own home.

Besides, where could I go?  With the CCT system in shamble, and international travel nearing impossible, the chance of returning to Vale was almost nonexistent. And even if I do manage to get back there, how would I find them? I knew two of them came from the island of Patch, but we never exchanged address. Why would we? We were living together in the dorm.

I knew I had to do something, but I don't know what.

The idea of helping from inside the SDC actually came from a joke my brother made. But I took it, talked it over with Winter, and presented it to Father. To my surprise, he agreed to my proposal for the war relief program. He even gave me the authority to order, transfer, and manufacture any kind of parts or raw materials I would need.

It was essentially a small company on its own. And it kept growing.

The responsibilities and the power I carry increased with each passing day. Little by little, he handed the control of the company over to me. However - and I must emphasize this - all my proposals must be approved by him, regardless of whether it was business, new funds for public service, or humanitarian aids.

Do you understand what I am saying?

[“In other words, your father approved your view on racial equality and support to the Faunus living condition.”]

Exactly. The Faunus Right Committee. The Wartime Support Program. The Neighborhood Patrol. All those things the public praised me for would not have happened if he had said “No.”

[“But why?”]

Contrary to popular belief, my father did not hate Faunus. He mistreated them, yes, but he did not hate them. They were two completely different topics, and if you take away nothing else from this interview, remember this. When Father took over my family business, it was during a difficult time. There were many paths present to him, and he chose the one to sacrifice his Faunus workers. That choice was prejudiced with the values he grew up believing in.

It by no mean justified his actions, and maybe it will not change people’s opinions about him. Still, he is my father…

The vicious cycle of vengeance fed on the flame of hatred and discord, until it evolved into an unstoppable purgatory which lure more and more people deeper and deeper into its core, like fire does to moths. They became trapped, and the flame engulfed those who failed to escape, dooming them to a life of misery.

Father realized that, but by the time he had the desire to get out, he no longer had the means. In the years of the struggle, he had established too many alliances and made too many enemies.

He knew the White Fang would get to him, eventually. I think he was happy that I showed such support to Faunus right, even if he continued challenging my efforts. He continued being the villain, and made me the savior the public needed to see. It would give the White Fang no excuse to harm me when my time came.

[“Did he expect an attempt on his life?”]

He had been expecting it all his life.

The fall of Beacon was merely a reminder of the target painted on his back. On all of our backs. He knew that one day, one of the assassins would get past the security. Maybe he even looked forward to it.

He missed my mother terribly. Winter said he was never the same after Mother was killed in that riot. I do not remember much of that time, being only five years old at that time. But I did see his loneliness and sorrow.

Anyhow, when I received reports of the bombing came, I was in a meeting with some potential clients. It was part of the plan to phase out the “questionable business partners”, as one of my friends once quite accurately put.

The news caught me off guard. I was so close to proving to the Faunus that, yes, someone was willing to treat them equally and respectfully like they deserved. We were so close to the future where the two races live together in peace and harmony. It was practically at our fingertips.

This act of terrorism could ruin everything.

The White Fang claimed responsibilities for the attack, of course. They would have regardless of whether it was really them who orchestrated it. They had suffered so many defeats lately. They desperately needed to regain their reputation. Not to mention, they were counting on the certain uproar among the pro-Human traditionalists.

Traditionalists, like the Atlesian nobles.

Yes. The first thing I thought about when the news registered in my brain was not my father’s condition. It was the noble council. I remember rushing out from the meeting with my clients, but only vaguely. Everything after was a blur.

When I came out of my shock, I was already standing on the podium, hosting the meeting. I remember looking around, still half dazed, seeing the eagerness beneath the fake empathy on those vultures. They wished for Father’s death as much as the White Fang did. It was all about wealth and power. I still feel sick to my stomach for having to deal with those people.

The room was so full, the amount of people standing almost exceeded those seated. Any family with even a thread of influence came to watch how we would respond to this crisis. The sly elders and their ambitious successors, all hoping to gain some favor or advantage from this gathering.

I was accused of being too ‘soft’ to the Faunus. The elders wasted no time demeaning all my efforts to rebuild trust between our two races. They gladly used the opportunity to express their ‘outrage’ of the atrocity committed against my family. They demanded “justice”, and by that, they meant to abolish all the Faunus right groups and cease supplying the wartime refugees.

I should have stopped those clowns right there, but I foolishly allowed them to continue, naively thinking that I could persuade them with good sense and logic.

Of course they would hear none of it. They grew even bolder, blaming this assassination on me, claiming that if we had continued pressuring the ‘savages’, they would not grow so ‘undisciplined’.

[She shook her head and scoffed.]

Ridiculous.

They took turn expressing the same opinion, to give the impression that they spoke on behalf of the majority, I suppose. That way, anyone who thought differently would be inclined to hold their tongue.

[“Was it not? The popular opinion, I mean.”]

It’s more ambiguous than you would think.

To an extent, all they cared about was what was most convenient to them. To many, lording over Faunus was easier than securing Human help. They were cheap labors, had no social status the employers needed to worry about, and could be easily satisfied. Most of the Faunus asked only for enough to get by their daily life. They would avoid troubles that could take those away at any cost.

Conversely, if it became inconvenient to mistreat Faunus. Say, if they were viewed as equals to Human, if the public determined they needed to be treated better - which is what the traditionalists were reluctant to grant them - the nobles would change their mind about Faunus faster than you could say ‘Nevermore’.

And it’s happening. The younger generations, myself and many of their successors included, started questioning these values. By exposures to values other than our own, we started seeing the flaws in our logic. Started second-guessing everything we took for granted. Started doing what we thought was right, instead of what our parents thought was right.

It would mean changes in legislations, culture, and business strategies. The elders didn't want changes. To them, changes meant inconvenience.

[“But you want things to change.”]

Yes.

[“Why?”]

I made a promise to a friend.

[“What kind of promise, if you don't mind me asking?”]

It's nothing extraordinary. I simply said I would do the right thing.

[“And in this case, it entailed?”]

Stopping them from flaming another racial war with the Faunus. The logic is trivial, even if you are not one for equality. [She scoffed.] But no, they responded with horrified gasps, as if I had suggested a genocide against my own kind.

[“For the record, could you elaborate on your arguments against the civil war?”]

Very well. I shall list the four main reasons.

First and foremost, we were nearing victory in the war against Grimm and the terrorists. The very fact that they made a move against my father at such critical time suggested they were desperate. The bombing was not a show of power, but rather a last-ditch attempt before they met their destruction. Compared to the Fall of Beacon, this attack was something that only a cornered beast- [She cut herself short and grunted.] -please do not take it literally, it was meant to be a figure of speech.

Back to topic. The White Fang were losing supports and running out of resources. What we should do, if anything, was continue what we had been doing. Namely, double our efforts in building a working, friendly relationship with the Faunus citizens.

Second, it was simply impractical to fight two wars at the same time. Even if one overlooks the complete destruction the Grimm would surely bring to our civilization if not stopped, there was no question that our already thinned ranks and starving resources could not support another war front. In a purely strategic perspective, making enemies out of the Faunus would be simply idiotic.

The third reason was the Faunus population and their roles in the Atlesian society. Although they had a much lower percentage compared to Human, 40% was no small number. It would take a huge toll on the kingdom and all the citizens involved. Why risk it?

Furthermore, this 40% of population essentially made up the layer of base-level labors in any industry. If they all stopped working, the economy would collapse, and all productions would come to a crashing halt.

Now suppose we were to wage war against one another… not only would the Faunus have the advantages of the know-hows at manufacturing the tools, but the opposite held true as well. Most of the middle and upper class Human would have no idea how to maintain, let alone construct even the most basic equipment needed for survival.

In other words, it would not benefit anyone to have this civil war.

On the other hand, the majority of the Faunus remained neutral in the conflict between the nobles and the White Fang. All they wanted were a roof above their heads, enough food in their bowls, and some peace and quiet with their family. They were the silent majority, who had endured countless harassments and unfairness just to get by in this harsh world.

They were honest and honorable people. But if being pushed too hard, this timid, quiet crowd would rise to the occasion.

Why force them to take a stand? We knew which side they would end up. What good could possibly come from encouraging them to join the White Fang?

I was able to convince the majority of my audience. Even if they didn’t give their verbal support, you could see it in their mannerism. Doubts, hesitation, excitement, and most of all, approval.

But the elders still had a trump card.

“Why would you protect the people who murdered your mother?” One of them cried in mock bewilderment.

“It’s betrayal to this family!” Another slammed his fist into the table. “You have dishonored your father, your mother, and the Schnee name!”

“How could you possibly allow those criminals to roam so freely on our streets?” A different elder exclaimed. I saw the conniving smirk he was almost able to hide. “I refuse to believe it, but… perhaps it was you who plotted against your father.”

That was the moment they abandoned any pretense at logic and good sense.

It was never about changing my mind to conform with their values. They had been aiming much higher since the very beginning. Imagine, Heiress Conspires Against Her Father with Terrorists . Makes quite a catchy headline, doesn’t it?

And it wouldn’t matter if someone disputed it later, because by then, everyone would have remembered that headline. And despite what they came to believe in the end, there would always be a part of them that secretly wondered, ‘could it be true?’

I was hard pressed to defend every single word I used or did not use. Which left little room for any progression on the logic aspect in any argument.

I couldn’t hold out until they gave up. My inexperience in the art of verbal crossfire backed me into a corner.

But just when I thought I had lost the fight. Just when I thought there was nothing left for me to salvage, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned.

It was my sister. Winter.

“Forgive me for being late.” Her posture was ever so stoic, but I saw the gentle, warm smile tucked to the corner of her lips. I swallowed hard and blinked away the burning sensation in my eyes.

Winter took the stage like she was born for it. She gracefully deflected the elders’ attacks on why she was late, how she could allow such thing to happen, et cetera et cetera. They led the battle of words, but she dominated it. I felt ashamed of my inadequacy, but she noticed and took my hand under the podium.

“Keep your head up, Weiss.” She whispered while pretending to take a sip from the glass of water the servant brought moments ago. “You have done extraordinarily.”

She put the glass down and curled her lips into a graceful smile. “And now I shall do my part.”

It was not the first time I witnessed the elegance and supremacy my sister wore with natural ease, but it still mesmerized me. It was the same awe as watching a fencing master in battle. It was no longer a fight, but a dance.

However, even the most skillful fencer can lose if their opponent refused to fight on fair ground.

Our nation is one where traditional value and radical innovation clash, but one rule always wins. At the end of the day, seniority and status will overrule everything. I knew what would inevitably come.

“Watch that sharp tongue of yours, young lady.” One of our distant great uncle - Ludolf, I think that was his name - scowled at Winter. “We have spilled blood and sweat to defend your House, the spirit of Atlas, and all that made this kingdom great. We had been making sacrifices for longer than you were born. Who are you to commandeer us ?”

I looked to Winter, half expecting to see her temper flaring like mine already was. But she just smiled even more gracefully.

“I shall apologize if I gave you such impression.” Her words were humble, but her eyes were cold and hard. “But I’m afraid you have been mistaken, good sire. I would never dare to challenge your seniority.”

My sister could be dramatic when it suited her. She bowed and took a step back. Every pair of eyes followed her movement, including mine.

“She will not.”

I heard Father’s stern voice before my mind fully comprehended what my eyes saw. He stepped to where Winter stood moments ago. His immaculate suit seemed to glow under the spotlight.

“But I will.”

[“He was not injured?”]

Not even a scratch.

From what he told me later, the assassination attempt was not even remotely close to successful. The building they blew up had been empty, although we did lost some products and robots placed there to make the place look active.

[“So why didn’t he show up earlier?”]

He knew there would be people trying to bring the family down. So he leaked some rumors that he was critically injured, and just waited for those who would post a threat to reveal themselves.

I think he also faked his injury so that he could see how I would react. How would I defend my position once he’s gone? Could I change the minds of the nobles? He sent Winter to watch over my performance from behind the curtain.

[“So your sister knew?”]

Ah, yes. I believe she was the first person Father contacted after the bomb went off. She helped covering up his condition, and had been his point of contact to all our friends and allies.

[‘But how did he come out unharmed from the attack?”]

There was… [She paused for several seconds.]

There was a phone call. Somebody warned him.

[“Who was it?”]

Father tried to find out, too, but the trace went cold.

All we knew was the number was registered in Vale, and was a disposable phone. He never got a name, or any specific characteristics that could narrow down the search. The call itself was short, and the caller disguised their identity with some voice-altering device.

But the sheer amount of knowledge, the accuracy of their predictions regarding the assassination…

[“Sounds like you have some idea who the caller might be.”]

I have my… suspicion.

I am almost certain who it was, but I never got her to admit it. [She shook her head, but there was a fond smile.] If she did not want the credit of saving Father, I will respect that. And regardless of whether it really was her who called Father that day, my opinions about her would not change.

After all, she already had my trust, loyalty, and friendship that will last until both of our last days.

[“So it was one of your associates?”]

[She gave me a look.] Like I said, I cannot say for sure who the caller was. And that is final.

[The sound of faint knocking echoed from her side. She looked up from the terminal and gave me an apologetic nod.]

I am afraid this is the end of the interview. I hope you have learned what you wished. Good day.

[The video call clicked off before I could thank her for taking the time to accept this interview. I thought I caught a glimpse of some strange emotion on Ms. Schnee’s stoic face, but I couldn’t be sure.

I saw her again a few weeks later, but this time through the newspaper. I stared in disbelief at the article. She had passed on her family’s empire to her younger brother, Mr. Whitley Schnee, and retired from the business. I tried to reach her again, but from that point on, I have yet heard anything of her.]

Chapter Text

 I found a package taped to my mailbox one autumn morning. There was no signature, address, or any information written on it. I was unsure of what to make of it first. In the end, curiosity got the better of me. There was similarly no notes inside, only a single audio tape. After listening to its content, I decided to add it to the compilation.

Have you ever wonder whether there is a monster inside you, waiting to break free?

Have you ever questioned your sanity, your most primal nature, and your belief? Have you ever lost control of yourself and done something you never thought you were capable of? Have you ever stand in front of the mirror, and wondered whether there is something more sinister in that reflection than you realized?

Regardless of our gender, race, and nationality, we have all asked the question: are we innately good, or are we born killers?

We are drawn to the pureness of children, but we ourselves often have acted cruelly to others during our youth. We hurt each other in order to survive, yet, we seek reconciliation before death.

Maybe it differs from one person to another. Maybe some people are born evil, while some are just meant to be heroes. I can not say for sure. What I could tell is this - Adam Taurus, the notorious Bulldoze of the White Fang, was not always a violent person.

I’m sure you are familiar with the name Operation Defang. Yes, it was the largest scale collaboration by the Faunus since the Great War. Over five hundred operatives from the four kingdoms, and more than two thousands freelancers joined effort to bring the era of terrorism to an end.

I was one of the volunteering agents from Vale. I was alone, but there were many others who were joined by their persistent friends and teammates. [There was a small chuckle.] They just wouldn’t let us do it on our own.

Most of my colleagues and friends chose to stay at Vale, while others returned to their homeland, mostly Vacuo and Mistral. Not many decided to go to Atlas like I did. I was essentially among strangers on the airship.

The ride itself was rather uneventful. People didn’t talk much. We all had our own ways of preparing for the battle to come. But that stillness was broken when the airship passed the wasteland of Dracones.

At first, I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me. But I saw the restlessness and alarm on the face of my kins. Some of the more… active ones, even began growling at the unseen threat.

I became certain of my premonition when the Human also started reacting to whatever was stirring in the forbidden land. It wasn’t just nervous anticipation. Something was terribly, horribly wrong there.

But whatever it was did not make itself known. We passed the land safely.

[A short pause.]

We made our way to the warehouse where the White Fang escaped to after their unsuccessful attempt on Adolf Schnee’s live. I had hoped his security would arrest the perpetrators, but maybe that was an unrealistic hope when bombs were involved.

We surrounded the warehouse in the night, but waited for dawn to launch our attack. Since Faunus generally have excellent night visions and other heightened senses, a sneak attack would be pointless. Coupled with the fact that we had many Human volunteers with us, a battle in the dark would be unpreferable.

We were given strict order before the strike began. The executives were our primary targets. They had shown us pictures of their faces and videos of their fighting styles. Everyone knew what to look for and what to avoid.

We were instructed not to hurt the grunts, which I was eternally grateful of.

For all we knew, those people were misled to believe in the false promise of a Faunus paradise. Maybe they mistook vengeance for justice. Or maybe the White Fang threatened them to cooperate with violence.

In war, you see all sorts of people. Sometimes we become disillusioned just like they did. There had been so many unnecessary death. So much lost already. We didn’t want to take more lives than we needed to. Not anymore.

When the hour came, we breached their defenses with ease. They were caught off guard. The leadership was split between giving up and making one last stand. Most of the grunts had neither the energy nor the will to fight. Fear. Resignation. They were exhausted, just like we were.

I watched my colleagues putting handcuffs on the downed criminals and taking them away, one by one. The White Fang was finished. There was no question about it. I remember the mixture of regret and relief surging through my heart.

Like many others, once upon a time I had put my faith in the White Fang. I believed what they- [Another pause.]

-what we were doing, would make the world a better place. I once believed we could, and would, be the answer to equality, to peace. It took me much too long to realize the monsters it was turning us into. I ran away, and in the process hurt even more people.

Many people… including Adam.

Adam, who used to muss up my hair when he praised me. Who used to laugh when we played hide and seek in the forest. Who loved playing harmonica when we sat by the riverbank, exhausted from running around. The brother I never had.

When I spotted him that night, he was standing by a door leading to the far end of the warehouse, smiling. The chaos around him seemed not to matter at all.

He tilted his head ever so slightly when he saw me looking back at him. Even though the mask hid his eyes, I knew he was staring directly at me. Had been since we charged in. He placed his left hand on the hilt of his katana, fingers twitching.

I made my way through the battleground, trying to decide whether I should walk into this trap. When I paused, safely outside his attack range, he shrugged and turned around, walking through the doorway.

From the blueprint of the building, I knew it was the storage area. He wanted a duel, or maybe a surefire way to kill me once and for all.

I followed him. The storage area was empty. No crates of supplies or ammunitions. Just the reinforced walls and a single working light hanging above our heads. As soon as I stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind me. I heard at least three locks.

His smile grew wider. He specifically set the stage for the two of us.

Adam knew I would come face him eventually. But did he know about the army waiting outside last night? If he did, he did not warn his comrades. Could he have gone so utterly mad that he would trade his empire for a chance of vengeance?

I wondered, but I did not ask. He drew his weapon, and I unsheathed mine. There was no long speech before the battle. We locked gaze for maybe a brief second, and the fight began.

Calling it a duel, or a battle would not be accurate. We tore at each other. There was no form, no etiquette, no honor.

It didn’t matter if we had to scramble on the floor to avoid the next attack, or whether we had to bite or claw or elbow the other person to get the upper hand. The only rule is to survive.

In the end, I came out on top.

I cannot describe what it meant to me to have defeated him. Ever since the Fall, everything I did, all those time spent training and improving myself - they were all for that singular moment. Adam had always been a talented fighter. He practically taught me how to fight. I never truly believed I could defeat him alone. I’ve always pictured, when the time comes, I would be surrounded by allies and friends, and…

[Pause.]

I almost killed him, and he had severely wounded me. If left to ourselves, we would both bleed out here within hours. I remember limping towards him, all the while praying the others would be able to bust the door down soon.

As I reached for the Aura-suppression handcuff, he spoke.

I knew he was going to try to get a reaction out of me. He was never one to accept defeat, and would quite literally struggle on until he was knocked out cold. I had told myself countless times before that I would just ignore everything he said to me.

But I couldn’t. Through his swollen lips and bloodied mouth, he spoke of… awful things. Things I wanted to forget. Things he knew would anger me.

I told him to shut up through gritted teeth. As I prepared to cuff him, he stepped up the effort, prying into the past I thought nobody besides me knew. All my sins. All my regrets. He dug into the rotten wounds and pulled out everything he could.

If you don’t know how the Aura-suppression handcuff works, here it is - the user supplies his or her own Aura into the special material, which would counteract that of the prisoner. It is just like how one can physically “block” someone else’s Aura if they make body contact, or you can say it is the reverse of unlocking someone else’s Aura. The point is, if the prisoner uses enough of his or her own Aura, or that the supplier does not provide a steady supply, it would not work.

In my fury, I lost control of my Aura flow. He broke through with a burst of energy and lunged at me. He knew it would most likely kill him, but he didn’t care.

I brought up my cleaver. I had to fight back.

[Roughly a minute of silence.]

… but that was just an excuse. Who am I kidding? I knew how weakened he was. I could have taken him out easily if I set my mind to it.

There was no reason to take both his arms. But I did.

He laughed when he lost his balance and fell face first to the floor. His jaw was badly broken, but he still talked. It's like he couldn't feel the pain.

“You didn’t come to fight for justice, or whatever you claim it to be, did you?”

He was doubled over in hysteric.

“You are here to avenge that Human, aren’t you?”

In that dimly lit room, I watched my former mentor take the final plunge into madness, sobbing between fits of uncontrollable laughters.

“You are tamed, love.”

He slowly raised to a sitting position, but still shaking with laughters. As he did so, the Grimm mask on his face shattered, and broke off.

I dreamed of that moment some nights, wishing beyond wish that when the mask fell, it would reveal the gentle soul I once knew. I prayed. I prayed that his obsession, his hatred, his anger, and his insanity, would all fall away with the symbol of monsters.

“You are nothing but a house cat now. How pathetic. You could be the pioneer to a new era, the black panther striking down the foes with the claws of death. Now you are nothing but a house cat, begging for love and attention from the Humans.”

It had been so long since I saw his eyes. The fiery red of marigold common in our hometown. But there was nothing left of the man whom I once respected and adored.

“Maybe so.” I told him. “But I am happier being whatever I am now than becoming the monster you are.”

“Why.” He smirked. “You and I are not that different.”

In the end, there was only a hollow fire burning within. I took his weapon, cuffed him, and slumped down against the door after failing to break it open. I waited for others to find us.

The slow seconds ticking away was torturous. Minutes felt like hours. We sat facing one another, but neither of us said one more word. I was too exhausted, and he was slipping into unconsciousness.

I dared not take off the cuff that restricted his Aura. I was afraid he would lunge again, and what I would do if he did.

So I watched. I watched blood seeping out from his wounds, pooling into a small pool around her body. His eyes never left mine, although towards the end, they no longer looked menacing. Sometimes they lost focus, and his expression would suddenly be overcome with the beginning of calm. But it never lasted for more than a few seconds. The sharp and wild flare of madness always flickered back to life.

I told you, he was never one to accept defeat.

I pulled my knees to my chin and stayed like that until others broke down the door. Slowly dying with my dream and my nightmare.

They got the medics to check on me, and rushed him to the prisoners’ cart. He didn’t seem to hear or feel any of it, just continued looking right into my eyes. Before they reeled them out, I saw him blink one last time, sighing as he did so.

The sight was almost too difficult to bear. My heart finally accepted the reality that, it was only at his ultimate defeat, at this prideful man’s lowest downfall, that I shall see any sort of peace on his face.

The people around us erupted into a blur of frenzied movements. Adam had stopped breathing. The medics checking on me left my side to help reviving him. They wheeled him out, leaving behind me and a few others.

I limped out of the warehouse with their support. As I stepped into the sunshine, the whole world seemed to have suddenly expanded beyond my recognition. But not in the way you read in books. The vastness was not full of possibilities and new beginnings, but full of emptiness that made you and everything you ever cared about felt infinitesimally small.

I became keenly aware of the weight of my weapon. I recalled the sensation of slicing them through Adam’s arms, and the anger I felt when he taunted me with my past.

His ambition was over, and soon the world would be too. So why did I feel like I’m nowhere closer to the finishing line?

Because the past was never over. They stay with you. No matter how far you go, if you look back to the shadow, they are right there.

So I feel to my knees and prayed. I prayed desperately this would not be my prelude into the same destruction that Adam walked.

There were people I wished to return to. I simply cannot let the same thing happen to me. I will not let them suffer the same sorrow I endured.

After that mission, I started having nightmares. Most of them were past I wished I could change, moments I regretted, and words I had no courage to say. Sometimes they were about my own sins, of the people I betrayed or could not protect. Sometimes they were critical moments of my life that did not turn out alright. But the worst… the worst was always the dreams when I ran away.

I could not stop my dream self from fleeing. And as punishments to my cowardice, I never truly escaped in those dreams. I would flee from one scene, only to stumble headfirst into another. My guilts and despair replayed in my dreams again and again, like broken pieces of vinyls glued together into a song.

The war had been over for years now, and my life has returned to normal. But sometimes I still feel broken.

You hear about people say how some of us “came back”. I don’t think that’s accurate. We might have patched our wounds enough to hide what’s underneath, but we are never the same.

[A minute of pause.]

I still think about Adam.

Not the bloodthirsty lunatic, the merciless murderer people associated his name with. But the man I once considered a brother. The strong-willed, reliable partner, who loved bathing in the sun by the riverbank. Who loved playing harmonica.

If Adam left the White Fang like I did, would he ever “come back”? If he had known what would become of his dreams, would he have chosen another path?

Was he destined to become the man he became, or did he have a choice?

Sometimes when I wondered about that, I could hear his laughter. Not the crazed, high-pitched shriek of a manic, but the gentle, amused chuckle from my youth.

“You think too much, love.” That voice would always say. “How would I know?”

And again, I would see him lying on the floor, staring at me with those blood red eyes, repeating over and over.

“You and I are not that different.”

Adam was wrong about many things. He was wrong about how peace and trust between Human and Faunus can be obtained. He was wrong about believing there was one superior race that should dominate the other. HE was wrong in joining force with the Vindicate.

But maybe he was right about one thing. Maybe we all had a monster within us, and maybe too many of us had ours awaken during the war.

Maybe they will never be put back into the slumber.

Chapter Text

I met Warden Ozpin in the Headmaster’s office. I heard the headmaster specifically requested it to be rebuilt according to the previous one during the reconstruction of the Vale Tower.

“This is where it began.” He beckoned me toward the large windows and pointed to the mountain where the Dragon was said to emerge from.

I looked away and tried to distract myself from the looming discomfort the view gave me. I turned to the school ground, the great waterfall, and the distant forest. Some students ran past the courtyard below. Their laughters muted by the distance and thick, bullet-proof glasses.

“Some think that, at such a position, one would be able to see all the sorrow and all the happiness of those within their sight.” The headmaster said. “I think it takes more than the mere presence of a person to achieve what they claim. A blind or ignorant person would not be able to appreciate the secrets just within their grasp.”

He walked me back to the desk, gestured for the chair, before sitting down on the other side. He produced a mug from seemingly out of nowhere and began sipping from it.

Some tales are not meant to be told. Some mysteries are not meant to be solved. Some relationships are not meant to  last. And some heroes are not meant to be celebrated.

You have heard of the name Ruby Rose, have you not? You have heard her names, you have seen her face, you have known of her existence. Yet, you know little of who she is, or what role she played in the Silent War.

You wonder why there was so little record of her. If she truly was the hero you suspected her to be, surely the whole world would know her name. Stories would be written of her adventures, songs would be sang of her virtues, and we would have festivals and ceremonies in her honor. That is what you thought. Every great heroes would surely desire to be remembered.

I invite you here today to tell you otherwise. Ms. Rose is not a hero.

You look shocked. You are curious, aren’t you? All those clues of an unnamed martyr who saved Remnant from destruction. The popular Hunters and Huntresses who spared time for your interviews. The packages left by your door to tell you stories from a time most people didn’t want to remember. Even in my reply to your request for this interview.

Yes, I am well aware of your project. I have been following your progress for quite some time, in fact. All the interviews you have conducted, the correlations between events and peoples you learned, and the conclusion you have drawn from them. They are of great interest to many influential people. Some of them are enthusiastic about your work, some are concerned, and some happen to be my associates.

Please, don’t be alarmed. You will understand after this interview. Or I hope so..

[He pushed a mug across the table toward me. I did not see where it came from either. I hesitated before taking the handle and raised the cup to my lips. Headmaster Ozpin watched me silently.]

There are many ways I could reveal it to you, but I chose this particular setting, for the reasons that, simply, it suits me best, and that, as cliche as this might sound to you, some stories are not mine to tell.

Thus I will describe to you the events that occurred on the corrupted soil of Dracones. The Battle of the Guardians, that is what people call it if I am not mistaken. Not much is known to the public, other than that we defeated the people responsible for the Fall of Beacon and, arguably, the Silent War.

So who are they, the Vindicates? You wonder.

Individually, they are people just like us. They were born and raised by mortal souls. They breath the same air and live on the same planet as we do.

But as a group, they were one of the few secret societies that endured the trials and challenges from our forever-changing world. They adapted and evolved, and perhaps, in a way they did not realize, became something entirely different from what they were supposed to be hundreds of years ago.

In the beginning, they were priests and priestesses. They worshiped the beings that created Remnant, and all the gifts they left to their children. They celebrated life and nature, studied Dust and the elements. Once upon a time, they fought to keep the balance of the world. They bled to protect the power of the Seasons. They died to save innocent lives from the darkness.

Once upon a time, they were the very same group of people as the Guardians.

At some point in our history, things changed between our predecessors who once fought side by side toward the same goal. The reasons had long been forgotten, but the consequences persisted. We became the Guardians, and they the Vindicates. We stood on the two extremities of the spectrum. The people who should have been like brothers and sisters turned against each other.

We Guardians reformed after the separation. To celebrate our diversities, we created titles such as the Medics, the Scholars, and the Rangers. We address and acknowledge the contributions of one another based on what we do, and who we are.

On the other hand, the Vindicates held on to the tradition. They had their Sacerdos, young women who, before our segregation, were destined to receive the power of the Seasons. They remained a united entity. All for one, and one for all. Even the way their leadership was passed to the successor started resembling as such. Through dark rituals that bonded past to the present, and linked the current to the future, the chosen ones became part of a never-ending, never-dying darkness. They became Salem.

I cannot tell you what their purpose is, for I wished not burden you with the knowledge. Just know that, the Vindicates saw despair and desperation in the truth of our world, while the Guardians saw light and hope.

[He put down his coffee mug.]

I apologize for giving such lengthy prelude. Let me begin the actual account by telling you what I desired would happen in that battle.

I wanted to destroy the Vindicates. I wanted to uproot their whole organization, kill every last one of its members if necessary. I wanted to wrestle the power of the Seasons away from their hands. I wanted to seal away all the darkness in their knowledge. I wanted all of them banished.

It sounds cruel, does it not? Perhaps that spoke volume of the man I truly am. However, it was far from my worst.

For my goals to be realized, I must be able to control the pieces on my side of the board, so to speak. Particularly, I would have to ensure the people who followed me to this battle, and the four youngsters under my watch, would carry out their tasks faithfully and successfully.

Yes, I had decided prior to the battle who was to play what role. Some of them trusted me well enough to accept the assignment without questions, but some needed to be persuaded, and a few I had to trick into believing they were following their own will. They were not, strictly speaking, wrong about that. They just did not realize that I had pushed them in the direction that led them to their actions.

That was why I simply looked on as Mr. Arc located Cinder, not stopping that young man from leaping out of our defenses and charging at the Sacerdo. He shall be the executioner, the hero to release the power of Autumn from the hands of the Vindicates.

Ms. Rose saw Mr. Arc charging ahead. She made to chase after him, perhaps hoping to bring him back to his senses. I pulled her back.

She turned to me. When our eyes met, I witnessed the realization dawning on her face, and the turmoil in her eyes.

“You planned it.” She said. “You are letting Jaune go fight Cinder on his own. You want him to.”

I did not deny it. I simply asked. “Will it comfort you to know that he was not sent to die? That I had arranged assistance?”

“How? If everybody is fighting here - ” She began, but then cut herself short and shook her head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know what else you had planned for my friends. Just tell me, what do I have to do?”

“You will stay by my side.” I responded. “Your power, your training, all of them are for this day. Are you ready?”

There was a commotion on the wing of our formation. We paused our conversation to look toward the source.

Unsurprisingly, it was Ms. Valkyrie and Mr. Lie. They, too, broke off from the line and ran after the Sacerdo - or more precisely, after Mr. Arc. I gave Ms. Rose a small smile.

Of course, the actions of those two were well within my prediction. I had planned to let them aid Mr. Arc in his battle against Cinder since the beginning. Mr. Arc would likely argue if he had known it, claiming that he must settle it by himself. But I believe Ms. Valkyrie and Mr. Lie had just as much right. After all, they are all Ms. Nikos’ teammates. And I felt a little more confident if it’s three against one.

However, I failed to foresee the intervention from Cinder’s puppets. I had thought they were disposed of, but evidently, we were misdirected. The two vagrants she sought out ambushed Ms. Valkyrie and Mr. Lie. We were too far away. All I could do was watch, helplessly, as they lured my students away from the path, and out of sight.

I had to physically restrain Ms. Rose, lest she struggled out of my grasp and ran to her friends’ aids.

“Please tell me that was part of the plan too.”

She clenched her fists so tightly, blood trickled down from her palm and fell to the ground. I did not realize it at first, for her weapon and attire were of a similar shade of crimson. It was only when i felt her Aura activating to close the wounds that I noticed.

I could not possibly tell her the truth.

“Their fates are no longer in your hands.” I said to her. Though, when I saw my own reflection in those pools of silver, I wondered if she knew I was saying it to her as much as to myself.

She looked away.

“We each govern our own.” She replied quietly, like a student struggling to remember a passage from their textbook. It was something I said to her not long ago. She closed her eyes, and her voice cracked. “I know.”

I let go of her and watched her hands fell to her sides.

There was nothing else to say. I kept forgetting how young she truly was. They all were. My students. I put the fate of this world upon their shoulders, believing that they would be the saviors. But perhaps I had lost track of what made us human. Perhaps they should not have to bear such heavy burdens.

Ms. Rose took several deep breaths and looked down to her scythe. She cleaned the blood from the handle and busied herself performing some last-minute checks. I watched her silently withdrawing a cartridge from her pouch, sliding it into the chamber before clicking the safety off.

And suddenly her voice came, so small, so fragile, and so distant. It was like listening to a long forgotten dream.

“If I don't survive,” she whispered. “Will you tell them? Tell my friends, tell my sister, that I’d gone to be with Mom.”

Of all the moments she reminded me of Summer, that was the one which nearly broke all my resolves.

“You won’t be doing this alone.” I said that with a little more force than I intended.

“I know.” She looked up at me. There was a heartrending calmness. It was an expression I had seen before, on the faces of those who embraced death like an old friend, with the grace, dignity, and gentleness suffice for the whole world. It always reminded me of the night before the new moon. “But you can never say for sure.”

She meant nothing more than to point out the uncertainty in our fate. Yet, I felt like a complete failure, more so at that moment than all the times before when my incompetence made innocent lives suffer.

I was distracted by my thoughts when she looked up, toward the battlefield and squinted.

“She’s here.”

I was startled back to reality. To the familiar presence of my sworn enemy. I felt the sickening pressure of the corrupted power. The air seemed purged by the foulness of all the deaths they caused. Salem had arrived. It was the beginning of the end.

Ms. Rose stood next to me. Her peaceful expression undisturbed.

“Will you tell them?” She asked again. “Will you tell them I lived a good life, that I had no regrets?”

Despite my better judgement, I responded.

“Even if that’s a lie?”

She paused. We kept our gaze on the enemy, but in the corner of my eyes, I saw a small smile spreading across her lips.

“It’s not.” She chuckled. “Even though I do want to see them again, I don’t regret this.”

It brought me back to the night we first met. I saw the fifteen-year-old who knew nothing of the doomed future, nor of the terrifying responsibilities bonded by her heritage. She was innocent, and pure. Maybe she had always been, I simply failed to see it through my tainted eyes.

“Everyone will die eventually. But if I die today…”

Salem spotted the us. She looked from me to Ruby. Her lips twisted into a cruel smirk. A drastic contrast to the genuine, heartwarming smile by my side.

“At least I get to do it saving the world.”

Chapter Text

We took a break from the interview. The headmaster went to handle some business. He did not tell me whether it had to do with Beacon Academy, or the Guardians.

I visited the formal student dormitory, which had been converted into a memorial house after the war. Being a journalist, I had been here several times before, but this was my first time just wondering around, taking everything in without rushing to collect someone else’s biography.

I walked through the rooms at a leisure pace, allowing my eyes to wander from one epitaph to another. The names of the Huntsmen who sacrificed themselves glimmered under the light of all the candles the visitors lit for them. The nameplates and pictures radiated a soothing warmth, and the quiet prayers from the visitors echoed like a lullaby.

Most people visit here to pay tribute to these heroes, but there are some who arrived after a long journey, seeking the truth of what became a friend they had lost touch with, a stranger who had once saved their lives, or someone who has crossed path with them in some other meaningful way. There was a collective serenity here, which nothing seemed to be able to break. This was a place of comfort and healing.

I recognized several of those names on the wall. Most of them I had became aware of during my research. I thought I had learned all I could about those people - their names, their family, their occupations, and their ideals. However, seeing the photographs and the short notes left to them by the visitors, I realized all those information I collected were only some cold, hard, and empty shell.

It was in here, through the faded photos, the whispers of love, and the fond memories of a distant past, that we were closest to the lost souls.

When I returned, Headmaster Ozpin was already back sitting behind his desk. If he saw the redness in my eyes, he feigned ignorance very convincingly. I nodded my thanks when he gestured for me to take the plate of refreshment and the new cup of beverage. I sank back to the chair, already feeling exhausted. He gave me a look akin to pity, and sipped his coffee.

Before I continue, I shall tell you what became of Mr. Arc, Ms. Valkyrie, and Mr. Lie.

Ms. Valkyrie and Mr. Lie could not shake off Cinder’s puppets, both of whom were experienced fighters, fierce and persistent. Soon after their encounter, the pair realized that they must defeat them to reunite with their leader.

Judging by your archive record, you have watched the footages of the Vytal Festival the year Beacon fell. Are you familiar with the technique those two used against Team CFVY in the double round?

[I nodded.]

Very good. And are you aware of what we speculated Ms. Sustrai’s Semblance to be?

[I shook my head.]

Some form of mind control. Not in the sense it could brainwash others to do her bidding. We suspect it’s a branch of Illusions. The effect on her victim include confused visual and audio clues. The extent of her ability was never properly documented.

Using this Semblance, she and Mr. Black, son of the deceased assassin Marcus Black, proved a deadly combination. Many of my people suffered under their ‘divide-and-conquer’ tactic.

However, when they tried the same strategy on Ms. Valkyrie and Mr. Lie, something unexpected happened. Much to their surprise, Ms. Valkyrie, as simple-minded as some would claim her to be, was immune to Ms. Sustrai’s Semblance.

There is no way to confirm our theory now, but I believe Ms. Valkyrie was too strong-willed to be deceived by the illusions. Adding the factor that she and Mr. Lie shared a bond that could not be described by simple words, Ms. Sustrai was at a severe disadvantage. [He chuckled.]

Mr. Lie, on the other hand, was not as lucky. He is a master at martial art, proficient in observing and turning the opponent’s physical strength and Aura against themselves. He lacked in strength, but made up with his agility and dexterity. However, his knowledge became ineffective when his opponent were not entirely made of flesh and blood. Yes, as we found out later on, Mr. Black had two prosthetic legs. I believe that was why he never wore any shorts, no matter the temperature.

Ms. Sustrai, unable to gain any advantage over Ms. Valkyrie, abandoned the original plan and turned her Semblance to Mr. Lie. She was unsuccessful, however, as Ms. Valkyrie realized her intention and forced her to give all her attention.

The battle dragged on longer than the two members of the Vindicates had anticipated. They grew anxious.

Similar thing could be said about Ms. Valkyrie and Mr. Lie as well. Worried for Mr. Arc’s safety, they made mistakes. Their opponents made sure those mistakes did not go unpunished.

There was no deciding moment in that battle. Both sides became accustomed to each other’s attack patterns, and learned where the flaws in their opponent’s defenses would be. If it continued like that, the chance of my pupils’ survivals would be almost nonexistent, for their opponents had more experience against human. Their tragic past demanded they steal and kill to get by each day. If they entered a stalemate, my students would no doubt be worn down and slain.

But that was not what happened. Mr. Lie, being the intelligent young man he was, turned his disadvantages around and made them work for him.

He knew he could not use his skill to disrupt the Aura flow like any of his previous sparring partner, for the prosthetics had a different sort of energy that combined with Aura to make them feel more like normal limbs. But he also found out that, unlike human nerves, the robotic legs did not alarm its master of certain assaults that would have made normal people feel pain.

And so, he started using his Aura to tinker with the prosthetics. He did it so subtly that I believed Mr. Black never realized what happened to him.

My students were the pair who emerged from the battle alive. They sustained heavy injuries themselves, but still wanted to reach their leader's side. I'm forever grateful that my fellow Guardians found them, and carried them back to the Medics. I shudder to think what would become of Mr. Arc if he had lost his remaining teammates.

[He paused at the mention of Jaune Arc, looking thoughtful.]

You remember I mentioned before, that I had intended for Ms. Valkyrie and Mr. Lie to join Mr. Arc in fighting Cinder. I had hoped that, by combining their efforts, victory would come at a lower cost.

I knew Mr. Arc would fight harder than he had ever been before that day. I knew he would find false courage and strength, like men who were blinded by hatred and anger often do. Those emotions would make him powerful, formidable even. But they would not make him strong, and if he did not realize that, he would surely die.

I had hoped that the presence of his teammates would help waking him from the frenzy of vengeance, should he become trapped by it. Despite the possibility that his improvements could surprise the enemy and give him the upper hand, the power that came from such negativity could just as easily be his downfall.

After all, it was the exact same power that the Vindicates wielded, and which their organization was built upon.

If Mr. Arc was to stumble in that battle, he would not be given the chance to stand back up. I knew it would be inevitable, yet, I chose to send him on the way.

When I saw Ms. Valkyrie and Mr. Lie being distracted from their path, I knew Mr. Arc would have an uphill battle ahead of him. But there was still one last hope for him. There was one person, whose existence I learned about only few weeks prior, and whom I had never met, that I put all my faith in.

I saw her stalking after Mr. Arc when Ms. Valkyrie and Mr. Lie were distracted by Cinder’s puppets. No one else had seen her. Not the Guardians, and not the Vindicates. She was someone who was not supposed to be part of this mix, and I gambled Mr. Arc’s life on her, again, without her knowing it.

Mr. Arc described that battle to me after he returned. As I expected, Cinder taunted him about Ms. Nikos, and he let the rage blind him. The woman toyed with him like cat playing with mouse, always giving him just a little hope, before snatching it away and crushing it in front of his eyes.

To their surprises, just as Cinder was about to finish Mr. Arc off, an arrow appeared from seemingly nowhere, and embedded itself in Cinder’s heel. The Sacerdos was distracted only momentarily, but the split second provided the opportunity Mr. Arc needed to get back on his feet and wrestle her to the ground.

He struck her with everything he had, but it was not enough to kill her. The Sacerdo blasted Mr. Arc off with the Maiden’s power, rendering him unconscious. When she turned around to search for the intruder, there was a moment when her power was still recharging. When she was vulnerable.

And so it shall be, that the trespasser put another arrow through the Sacerdos’ chest.

In a way none of us could have predicted, the power of Autumn was released from the Vindicate, and a new Maiden was born.

After Mr. Arc had awoken, he confided in me that he thought the person disrupting the battle was Ms. Nikos. He looked both confused and hopeful. I knew just how desperately wanted to believe in what he had seen, even though he knew it was impossible.

“The person who saved you is here.” I said to him, keeping my expression as even as I could manage. “If you wish, I could ask someone to fetch her.”

Slowly, the realization dawned on him. He saw his choices, each forking off to a different future.

He could refuse the offer, never to know who he really saw, and continue to believe in what he wanted to believe in. There might be some nights when he would question, and regret this decision, but if his faith is strong, the doubts will eventually fade away.

On the other hand, he could face the reality. He might find comfort in the identity of his savior, knowing that someone real had come to his aid in his moment of need. He might find something which he never knew he had been searching for. But he might also lose something precious to him, something that might have supported throughout this long journey. It might break him.

I waited for him to make the choice.

He buried his face in his hands. His word came out strangled.

"Why?”

It was difficult to maintain my neutral expression.

“You have to be the one to make the decision.”

His head shot up. Two stormy, dark blue orbs stared dagger at me.

“Why now?” His voice was hoarse with anguish and rage. “You never gave any of us choice when it mattered. Why?”

He was suffering. I had essentially stabbed him again in a wound that never truly healed. But it had to be done.

“Do you truly believe that?”

For a moment, his face contorted into a fearsome scowl. His muscles tensed, his body coiled ever so slightly, like a serpent preparing to strike at its prey.

But almost as soon as it came, it went away. He slumped down into the makeshift bed, and murmured.

“You are not gonna go away until I made my choice, are you?”

I didn’t answer.

He stayed there for several minutes, quietly pondering. I listened to his every uneven breath. His hesitation. His struggle. I prayed that, whatever he chose, it would bring him the peace he deserved.

When he finally sat up, he looked like he was about to cry.

“Invite her in, please.”

He turned away. I nodded and stepped back, even though he could not see. Someone shuffled behind. I lifted the drape of the entrance, and gestured for the young woman to come in. She hesitated for a second, but held her chin high and walked in with the dignity of a noble.

Mr. Arc stood up with his eyes closed. He took several breaths, before slowly turning around.

I left the two of them to speak in private.

[He swirled his mug absent-mindedly.]

I knew Mr. Arc would need somebody by his side afterward. Perhaps he would want his friends to be there. Perhaps not. I did not ask, because I wanted to be there. I wanted to help him, and if nothing could be done then, at the very least, to see this through.

They did not take long. It was merely fifteen minutes after I left when Ms. Nyilas came out. She was surprised to see me waiting outside, and gave me a suspicious look.

“He asked for you.” She said. “I came out to search.”

I nodded. Mr. Arc must have guessed my intention. He was always observant. It was one of the many reasons I appointed him to be his team’s leader.

Before I entered the tent, Ms. Nyilas stopped me.

“Will he be okay?” She asked, a little hesitantly. “He looked… lost.”

I paused to consider my response. ‘Of course’ would be too unceremonious. ‘I hope so’ lacked confidence in Mr. Arc. I settled on the simpler, more general answer.

“All in due time.”

There was something akin to appreciation on her face when she nodded to me. I stood there for a few more seconds, watching her leave.

When I walked back in, I saw Mr. Arc leaning against the supporting beams on the other side of the tent, where the other entrance was. He held the drapes open with one hand, watching the gloomy grey sky. We stood there in silence.

It was the sound of rainfall that began our conversation. Mr. Arc turned, and I saw something had changed within him. His eyes were red and puffy, but there were no tear stains on his face. When our eyes met, I saw not a broken man, but a reborn soul.

“Professor Ozpin.”

For the first time since the Fall, he addressed me the way he used to. Not the Headmaster. Not the Warden. “Professor,” he had called me. He saw me as his teacher again.

“Jaune.” I walked up, and put a hand on his shoulder. I had been waiting for the right moment to tell him, and now, I finally had the chance. “I am sorry.”

He nodded.

“I want people to remember her.” He whispered. “I want her to live in our memory.”

The small drizzle turned to heavy downpour, but the droplets were still quiet when they hit the ground. The soundless voices echoed.

“I don’t want to forget her.” He said. “But I can’t bear to remember. It hurt so much to remember.”

And he sobbed like the boy he was supposed to be.

Chapter Text

As if someone had been listening all along, the sky had turned grey and the air damp and heavy by the time we finished the last part of the interview.

We took another break. Professor Ozpin invited me to stay for lunch at the academy’s cafeteria. The familiar taste of a dish made for large group of customers, served with the cheerful laughters and excited chatters from the students, lifted my spirit.

“I remember always complaining about the cafeteria when I was a student.” Professor Ozpin said before stuffing a spoonful of mash potatoes in his mouth, looking almost happy. “It was not that the food was bad. It just got boring eating the same food the same person cooked day after day.”

All of the sudden, I heard a loud “hey! Stop that!” from the other side of the room. We turned, curious.

The girl who was yelling noticed our gaze and sat down in embarrassment. The boy next to her laughed and sling-shot another mash potato ball at her.

“Are you stupid ?” The girl hissed, but we could still hear. “The headmaster is here.”

I turned to Professor Ozpin, wondering what his reaction might be. He simply smiled.

“Yeah!” Another boy said. “What if he joins in? We all gonna get owned!”

While the students continued with their not-so-quiet strategy meeting to defeat the headmaster - should he participate in their mischief - Professor Ozpin and I had finished our meal. He led me toward the exit.

“That is one of the reasons why Glynda never liked it for me to come here to eat.” He mused. “Also why she did not like to be here either. It almost always guaranteed a mess to be cleaned up afterward.”

“One of the reasons?” I asked. “There are more?”

“We have better chefs at the teacher’s lounge.” He paused. The amusement faded from his smile. “That, and because the only thing we can taste here nowadays is nostalgia.”

What makes a hero?

Is it marked by the path they walked in the darkest nights? Or measured by the greatness in their strength and knowledge? Are they born with the selflessness that prompt them to sacrifice themselves for the sake of others? Or are they inspired to to pursue greatness? Do they give light and hope to those around them, or are they made by the burdens and sorrows they carry?

Perhaps I was a bit rash to say Ms. Rose is not a hero. To many, she matched their definitions of a hero.

Personally, I find those definitions unsatisfactory. We knew little of the people we called heroes. Be they real people whose name appeared in history textbooks, or the imaginary ones we created in fairy tales. We assigned them, quite singularly, qualities that we anticipated them to have. We believe they must be the brightest, bravest, strongest, and the best kind of person there is.

But they are people just like you and me. They err. They have their shortcomings. And more often than not, when we learn the complete truth about them heroes, we are disappointed by their imperfections, even though we are the ones who arrogantly assumed it in the first place.

They rise to difficult times and great challenges, but they did not transform overnight to someone completely different from the persons they used to be. Yet we do not see them as heroes when the world is at peace. We overlook the normal, small kind acts that happen around us everyday. We take them for granted, like the air we breathe.

I see heroes everyday, everywhere. I see them in the parents who work to provide for their family, in the students learning to make contributions to the society. I see it in the helping hands given to someone in need, in those who go out of their way to make someone else a little happier. I see heroes rise and fall. I see them born and die.

I also see villains. I see them in every cheater who wanted everything for nothing. I see them when temptations and greed got the better of a person. I see the seeds of evil sprout when someone ignore the sufferings of others for their own gain. You may think it is harsh, but those seeds can grow into calamity that suffocate all of us.

Sometimes the hero and the villain are the same person. The line between good and evil is bleary and always shifting. A caring father can also be a bully who oppress their subordinates. An unkind teacher may not think twice before sacrificing themselves for their students.

We rarely see others fully, not just because our opinions are biased based on our interests, experiences, and what we have heard from others, but also because we carelessly simplify complicated matters. People are complicated, yet we can come to a conclusion about someone in the first three minutes of our meeting, sometimes even mere seconds. Our opinions might change when influenced by events that shine a new light on what we knew, but we do not always have the opportunity.

I am not saying this is a terrible thing. More often than not, our simplified idea about a person is all that matter to us. You do not need to know the life story of a rogue before you stop them from robbing an elderly woman. You do not need to know all the fights and conflicts that happened between a couple before you comfort a grieving widow. It is unnecessary, and impractical.

The same thing applied to Ms. Rose and I.

I saw something extraordinary in her. A brave warrior, a kind leader, and an heir of a powerful bloodline. That is all I need to believe she would be the chosen one.

Salem knew this. She knew I wanted to make her my successor, the next leader of the Guardians. We saw the same thing when we looked at that simple, honest soul - endless possibilities and true inspirations. Our only difference was that, while I tried to make her the greatest hero of our era, she wanted to make her another martyr in their conquest.

Ms. Rose never cared for any of that. She never cared for the fame and glory, nor the sacrifices and sufferings she had to endure. Her goal was pure, simple, and almost laughable - she just wanted to help.

[He paused and took a long sip from his mug. The room was too quiet. I could hear the gentle breeze from the air conditioner, the soft murmur of the gears from the clocktower, and my own heartbeat.]

Salem took her from our side with dark magic, no doubt something she discovered from the ancient scrolls and documentations, where she also gained the knowledge of the significance of Ms. Rose’s heritage. She was likely planning to slay her anyway, but also thought that it would demoralize us greatly, if she could kill her first, then display her mutilated corpse out in the open.

It would be a devastating sight, without a doubt, to see such a brilliant star fell. To the few who knew her importance, it might even distinguish the small flame of hope entirely. If she did not consider the Guardians too much of a threat, I believe she would have attempt such horrific act right in front of our eyes.

Alas, she thought it would be too risky to carry out her scheme under our resistance. There were too many variables, too many things that could go wrong. Thus she took her to a desolate land, hours away from help.

I could not deny the hopelessness that gripped my heart when I witnessed Ms. Rose disappearing in the thick, crimson light. I had to fight my way out of the desperation, and the swarms of Grimm that feast on our horrors. But we managed.

I organized several search parties immediately after the situation was under control, going whichever ways we believed the hope may hide. It was those parties that also found Mr. Arc, Ms. Valkyrie, and Mr. Lie.

I myself joined the search as well, though I refused any company. I could take care of myself, but I feared that anyone who strayed alone would be slain by our enemy. Furthermore, my instinct told me that we must cover as much ground as possible, else it would be too late to save her.

I would never know if that premonition was true or false. I would never know whether I might have chosen a different path if I had other company. It will remain a mystery for the rest of my life, whether the course of history might have changed, for better or for worse, if I did not listen to that tiny voice in my head.

I found Ms. Rose, eventually.

When I spotted her, she was half buried under a thick layer of black mud. There was no sign of Salem. Broken stones and ashes scattered across the barren land was the only evidence of what was undoubtedly a fierce battle.

I did a quick visual check, scanning for any sign of a trap before I dared to approach. It would not help Ms. Rose in any way if I was ambushed. Salem was as cunning as she was powerful. I had no way of knowing whether she was defeated by Ms. Rose, or the other way around.

It made me more suspicious than confused to be surrounded by utter silence. I kept vigilant. The absence of the foreboding pressure from Salem was a welcoming relief, but she could be hiding in the shadow, waiting for the perfect chance to strike. I was almost certain she would appear.

But she did not.

When I finally accepted the reality that, for whatever reason, she had vanished from this area already, I finally allowed myself to look more closely at Ms. Rose.

If I was more shameless, I would claim that I knew of the terrible state she was in, and that it was because of the sorrow that I refused to look at her. It was only partially true. I had no idea what I was about to see, but it was heartbreaking.

Her legs were bent to unnatural angles. Her face was covered by cuts and bruises. There was a hole the size of my fist in her abdomen. Blood pooled under her tiny, unmoving body, merging with her red cloak. She looked utterly shattered, like the leaves fallen in autumn and trampled by uncaring boots.

I had failed again. The realization almost crushed me. I sank to my knees, ready to wallow in my despair.

How could I let it happen? I asked myself. How could I have let the last hope of our world be smothered? How could I be so helpless, for all the power and knowledge I possess? What good am I, if I cannot protect a budding rose that would blossom into the most marvelous flower in the world?

I had not shed any tear for many years, for I had grown numb to the sorrow of this world. However, at that moment, I was about to cry.

I caught the slightest of movement through the mist in my eyes. “Old fool,” I thought to myself, “do not let wishful thinking deceive you. The higher it raises you, the harder you shall fall.”

I was ready to resume my mourning, but then, my ears picked up a weak cough. My heart almost stopped. It feared the disappointment of being cheated by illusions. I blinked furiously, trying desperately to clear my vision, like a man wandering too many days at a desert without water finally seeing the oasis on the horizon.

It came again.

My eyes welled up when they met two pools of unfocused silver.

I grabbed her hands.

“You are okay now.” I said. Though, I could not be sure whether I was saying it to her, or to myself. “You are going to be okay.”

I channeled my Aura through our connection carefully. I wished it would help with her condition. It was a dangerous task. Our Aura types were not a match. In fact, she was so unique that even her half-sister would not be able to do more than I could. The only person who could have soothed her had passed away long ago. I knew that, if I forced too much of my own Aura on her, it would do more damage than good. The idea terrified me.

She groaned. I was uncertain whether it was because of the discomfort from my Aura flowing to her, or from her injuries.

“Do I… want to know… how bad it is?”

She tried to joke, but her voice was barely a whisper. Her attempt to smile fell short to a slight twitch of her lips.

I shook my head, part to answer her question, and part to show my exasperation.

“Just rest.” I said. “I will get the Medics. So just rest and save your strength.”

“Okay.” Her eyes fluttered tiredly, like a child struggling to keep awake past their bedtime.

She sighed. For a moment, I feared it was her last breath.

But she spoke again, quietly, and apologetically.

“I'm… sorry, Professor Ozpin.” She whispered. “She… got away.”

My hands trembled. I felt it like an earthquake. If she noticed, she was either too tired to remark upon it, or did not mind it at all. Her eyes shut again, and I watched her shallow, pained breaths. In, and out.

I could not take my eyes away even if I wanted to. I had the strange feeling that, as soon as I look elsewhere, she would slip away.

A lump formed in my throat, and I fought a losing battle to keep it down. It physically hurt to know there was nothing that could possibly be done about her sufferings.

She would get better. I tried to convince myself. With enough Aura, her wounds would heal in a few months, and she would be able to return to her friends. She had survived. She would live.

I lost count of how much time had passed. I focused on supplying her with my Aura, and keeping watch of her condition.

Suddenly, she cleared her throat, even though the effort made her wince again.

“Professor…?”

I gave her hand a gentle squeeze to show her that I was listening. I did not trust myself to speak.

“Will you…” She paused and took several more breaths. I waited for her to recover and continue.

I wished I had just shushed her.

“Will you do it?” She asked. “Will you tell them? In case I…”

Her voice trailed off.

[He stopped for several seconds, as if collecting his thoughts, or maybe restraining his emotions.]

For an agonizing moment, I was convinced that she had passed.

I was certain that, once again, I had failed to protect the people that truly mattered, that I had essentially murdered the people whom I was supposed to protect.

It took me several seconds to realize that she simply fell unconscious again. Perhaps my Aura had finally triggered hers to begin the healing, and that was what drew her into sleep. At least she would not feel the pain now. That was the only comfort.

I clutched her hand as one would treat a newborn baby. She seemed so broken, so helpless, so small. She looked just like the child she was supposed to be.

I robbed it from her. I robbed many things from many people. And it shall be what keep me awake at night until I close my eyes for the eternal slumber.

I picked her up, and carried her back to the camp. She felt too light, light enough that the wind might lift her to the sky above if I did not hold on tight. She felt too small, small enough that she could fall through the gaps between my fingers like a grain of sand. She felt too cold, cold enough that the whole world might freeze if I lay her to the ground.

So I held her tight, firm, and gave her everything I could.

[He put the mug down.]

Within few days of time, Ms. Rose recovered from her injuries and was her cheerful, bubbly self again.

The Medics worked wonder on her after she was safely transported back to our base camp. They told me I had practically saved her, for she would surely have perished if she was left unattended any longer. I never succeeded in convincing myself to accept that statement.

Most people would not be able to tell the transformation she had gone through, but those close to her did. I had seen the wounds invisible to many. I had witnessed her breaking, before she single-handedly put the pieces back again.

Even though Ms. Rose had survived, the fifteen-year-old girl I had invited to my school was no more.

A great man once told me, whether someone becomes the hero or the villain depend on which side wins the war. The tyrants and the saints are more similar than people realize. And in the same way, I am just the same as Salem. They praise me as the hero and condemn her as the villain, because I am victorious in the end.

But that was not the case for Ms. Rose.

She never once blamed me for the things I had selfishly put her through. She never cursed her fate, nor complained about the crushing burdens I put on her shoulders. She hid her tears and her pain, and always showed the world her brightest smile.

She was willing to burn, if only it shone the path for someone else. And that was why she was not a hero. She was much more than that.

To this day, I refuse to call her a hero. Heroes rise and fall, but legends -

[He paused. There was something shining in his eyes, though his calm expression betrayed nothing.]

Legends live on, forever and more.

Chapter Text

 I had a dream last night, of a red-cloaked Huntress standing by the edge of the world. She was looking into the abyss, as if waiting for some horror to emerge from the bottomless depth. Fearful that she would fall, I called out to warn her.

She turned with a smile. “Sum lux spei”, I heard she say.

The world seemed to have lit up with that simple phrase. The darkness above turned into bright sky the color of sapphire. The ashes below my feet transformed into grass, and kept spreading endlessly. The abyss became shore of white sand and calm ocean, stretching as far as eyes could see.

I felt something pulling at my sleeve and looked down. It was my daughter, Lucia, whom passed away in the war many, many years ago.

I shall not trouble you with the details of our reunion. Therefore, let’s skip ahead to when I looked up again. I saw a giant door I have never seen before, but the red Huntress was nowhere in sight. Yet, I felt her presence everywhere.

Some might say this dream was the product of the overwhelming emotions I felt after listening to the many tales of the war, or that it was my overactive imagination. Truthfully, my logical self would agree with all those statement. Still, another part of me would love to believe otherwise. I felt it was a premonition. A story told not by an individual, but by Remnant itself.

I might have played an important role in this world without realizing it. For all intents and purposes, what started out as mere curiosity could have been the will of some other-worldly beings, urging for the stories to be told. There might be people reading this, being touched by this, whom I am helplessly unaware of. This work is for their sakes as much as it was for mine. And as such, I decided to record the dream - or premonition - that visited me and left me a sobbing mess after I woke.

I set out with the ignorant bliss that my work would be of no importance to anybody. Now I must bear the pleasant sorrow that it might have provided someone, somewhere, some kind comfort.

I thank you for joining me in this journey, and I wish that you have felt as much as I did when I transcribed the tales of the survivors. I wish you the best. Until we meet again.

Dario Seymour

There were too many ifs. Too many possibilities for a better future.

We blame those who fucked up to make ourselves feel better, even though in truth, we all contributed to the loss and the death.

Things don’t happen just because of one person’s one mistake. They happen after a series of events occurred. It’s like the cheese theory.

[“The cheese theory?”]

Yeah, you know, the one that basically says, “no matter how many slices of cheese you put together, you’ll always find a hole that penetrates from the first slice to the last.”

Okay, I might be pulling something out of my ass right now. Pretty sure it’s not what I thought it meant, but whatever. You get what I’m saying, right?

We pretend we are not one of the slices. We act like we weren’t part of the reason why that hole existed.  We point fingers at one another because we don’t want the responsibility. It’s easier to deal with the problem that way. We became so used to doing it that we actually start to believe it.

But this war was a wake-up call. It’s basically the world slapping us on the face and telling us, “grow a pair, will ya?”

Marjorie Rivera

The children born during the war - they know how to fight and how to live on very little. The first breath they took after they left their mother’s womb was of sorrow and horror. You can see the solemnity in everything they do, even in their shy smiles.

On the other hand, the children born after the war were blessed. They only knew the horror of the war from tales of their parents and other adults. They never experienced it themselves, and that is a good thing. I wish they will never have to go through it like we did.

When you are like me, seeing classes of children come and go each year, you notice the differences. Not only that, you also realize that the children feel it too. Perhaps more keenly than the adults.

[In the distance, a boy fell. A young woman noticed and rushed to him. She whispered some words to the tearful boy, and he rubbed his palms against his eyes and shook his head. The woman smiled and extended a hand to the boy. He took it.]

We seemed drawn to children these days. Not just those of us who were mature during the war, but also those born during it, those who grew up watching the world on its long journey to recovery. We are drawn to the children born recently, and there is an instinct within all of us to protect every single one of them. I think it was because we saw something we had lost once upon a time, long ago.

[“What is it?”]

[Just when she was about to answer, someone called out to her. We both turned. A middle-aged man sitting in the car waved. In the backseat, I saw two young men dressed in the SDC uniforms. She smiled and put a hand on her slightly protruded belly.]

Innocence.

Fintan Todde

I take comfort in knowing that many had resolved their differences and learned to look past trivial matters such as their genders, nationalities, and races.

These -

[She gestured to the west side wall, which is filled with newspaper clips, photographs, postcards, and assortments of other articles.]

They are all from people who survived the war with great stories of courage and hope.

When times become too hard or I feel like giving up, I look at them and retell those stories to myself. “Look, there are still hope.” I tell myself. “There are some good in this world, and they are worth fighting for.”

[“What about those?” I asked, pointing to the east side wall. There were perhaps ten times more snippets than the other side.]

Those are the lives lost to the violence and prejudice. [She shook her head.]

On my good days, I look at this wall to remind myself that there are still many out there, hanging on by a thread. I look at each of these faces and tell myself to work harder, to make things better. “You cannot stop and slack.” I will say it every morning into the mirror, or rather, the person in the mirror will say to me. “Someone out there is waiting for your work to be done today. If you are too late, they will die.”

Some people forget about the sufferings we endured together in the trying times as soon as it passed. I tell myself to never forget.

[“Doesn’t it bother you that the survivors are so few compared to the ones that didn't make it?”]

Yes. Of course.

For every story of peace, there are at least ten heartbreaks. But you should not compare them like that. It is not the point.

[“What is the point then?”]

That hope still exists.

Devon Kruse

She came here in the beginning, following other volunteers to keep the Grimm population low. She was here mostly by herself. I saw people talking to her, but rarely did they stay by her side.

She went on hunts on her own, and when the sky lit up, we all knew it was her fighting for our sakes. She fought just like her father, brilliant like the sun.

I thought it would become a routine, but then one day she stopped visiting our village. There was a replacement. Someone she recommended. They stuck around for a long time, and eventually became one of our regulars.

People rarely talk about her now, but when we do, it is always with a fond smile and some regret for what happened. I tried asking around, just to see if anyone knew what happened to her. Nobody did. And as time went on, my curiosity became something that only surfaced rarely, like a fish in the sea.

That is not to say we forgot her. We will forever and always remember the little dragon who was reborn after the fire - wait, that’s phoenix, isn’t it? Ah well. Whatever. You get the point.

Even though she isn’t constantly in our thoughts anymore, she’s always with us. I don’t mean she lives in our hearts or that sort of soupy crap. I mean she’s part of our past, and that past made us who we are. You just can’t escape it even if you try. You know?

Cyrus Hunt

What happens when you shine a lamp on the shadow? It disappears. It becomes part of the light.

The reform - the politicians called it - is the light. It shone on us regardless of whether we were comfortable in the dark. They think they are liberating us, when in truth, they only wanted others to believe it and keep them in the office.

We have no say in the matter. Even if we resisted, the world will not listen. They might see us as the nameless heroes today, but they can start calling us rebels and terrorists tomorrow.

And so we will accept it. We will step into the light and become part of it. That shall be our fate.

I just wish that all my agents will find this light a comforting presence, instead of a blinding threat. They deserve to live the rest of their lives in peace.

Sherry Mortensen

I never drink before missions again. Not that there are many of those nowadays anyway.

[We are sitting in a bar for soldiers. The bartender kept her glass full. I thought it was beer or ale, but I smelled no alcohol from the mug. It dawned on me then that it was just apple juice.]

I didn’t do it because I was afraid of having some other “friends” pulling similar shit. Everyone heard about the stories of how my unit survived. Some of them added stupid shit to the rumor, like how I found out those guys tried to get me killed and so I killed them.

Whatever. It kept people out of my way. And I know nobody would try anything stupid on me or my guys ever. I don’t need to explain myself. They won’t believe it anyway. And I don’t want to.

I come here regularly still, even though I have no idea what the hell I’m here for.

[She chugged her apple juice and made a face.]

The drinks they made here are terrible. Alcoholic or not.

[“Do you still drink?”]

Nah. I gave up drinking altogether. Don’t have the money. I got a family to take care of now, and our paycheque grow thinner and thinner every year. Fucking politicians said they’d pay us plenty for our services, but half of those money either went into their own pocket or got “recycled” to other funds.

Besides, whenever I’m drunk, I hear them laughing and talking like the good ol’e times.

And it is goddamn depressing.

Ebony Devlin

Those of us who left the island for work come back at least once a year, usually during the anniversary of the Cobblestone Assault.

I search for Yang and Ruby in the crowd every time, but I never see them. Sometimes I would remember that woman with long black hair, and wonder whether that sorrow in her eyes ever faded away.

I don't know if I will ever learn the answer. Not that I must. I respect their privacy. After all, we all have a thing or two that we just don't want others to know.

Wherever they are now, I wish they are happier than they were in the war. I am, but I know many who aren’t.

Cardin Winchester

I regret every stupid thing I did to make their lives miserable, and every cruel word I directed their way. I wish I can take them all back, but I know I can’t, so I’ll settle with making amends. That’s why I’m here.

I don’t really see my past associates anymore. Not because I don’t want to, just… we all got our own stuff to do. Some of them I don’t even know where they’d gone. And others… well, Arc is busy with Beacon, and it is to my knowledge that Coco and Velvet just wanted to live the rest of their lives peacefully together.

Plus, if I go visit every person I had ever wronged and wanted to apologize to, I’ll probably die of old age first before reaching the bottom of that list. [He laughed.]

I know what Coco will say to me even if I go. [He raised an eyebrow, doing an impression of Ms. Adel.]

“The hell are you doing here, kid? Looking to get your ass kicked? Get back to work!”

Rohid Bianchi

I still ask myself that question. Could people who had done something horrible ever find peace?

They have to, right? How else could so many of us live on happily?

Or are we truly happy right now? Sometimes, I dream of the operation, but instead of the White Fang and Black Blood killing each other, I see myself doing the bloody work. I can’t help but think, how many people could we have saved? How many of them could have turned around and realized their mistakes?

Maybe that’s why I try so hard to help my community. Maybe, this is my way of atoning for my sins.

Jaune Arc

I hear her soft chuckle in the wind still. I feel her presence when the warmth of the sun embraces me. Every night I go to sleep, she is waiting for me in my dream. I know she had never left my side, even though the form in which she lingered had changed.

I know all of that, but still, I cannot deny the loneliness and sorrow.

Sometimes I wonder what she would say if she was here. Would she be proud of the man I have become? Or would she frown and firmly but gently point out my mistakes?

If there is an afterlife, if I ever get to see her again. This time, I want to tell her how much she meant to me. I want to thank her for everything she did. I want to hold her tight, and tell her that I'm sorry I wasn’t strong enough to be relied on when she needed me the most.

I want to say to her, “I’m glad to have you in my life.”

Piroska Nyilas

I never thought I would be so involved with the balance and peace of the world. I had always thought my only contribution would be the times I kill for my people, and when I eventually wed someone and bear children of my own.

It scares me sometimes, to feel the power of the Season coursing through my veins. To know that if I fall to an unworthy opponent, the world could be engulfed in flame. It was a heavy burden to become something much more than who I thought I would ever be, to be part of the peace at stake with our eternal war with darkness.

But it is as the Warden says, “we all have a role to play in this world.” If I must carry this weight, then I will march on until it is my time to rest. If I must fight and be broken so that the people who come after see the path, I shall lay down my life with no regret.

I never understand those who ask “why” and act reluctant to fulfill their duties. This is our world. We are all part of something much larger than ourselves. We exists to serve this world as much as it exists for us.

Ozpin

Tell me a story where the hero did not go on a long journey. Name me one hero who lived “happily ever after”. It is difficult, isn’t it?

But why must heroes go on journey? Why do they have to travel so far away from home, and leave their loved ones behind? What could possibly be found at the end of the world, that we cannot obtain here? Why must heroes suffer and carry the burden that would eventually crush them?

I ask myself that, but despite years of searching, I am still nowhere nearer to the answer than when I started my journey, a long time ago.

Sometimes others ask me the same questions too, but there is only ever one who gave any sort of answer.

“I leave them behind not because I want to, or have to.” She said.

I can still remember that day atop this tower, when we watched the sunset together. The wind ruffled her hair as she laughed. Her smile reflected the soft glow from the warmth on the horizon.

“No matter what happened, I never give up searching for love. Not the kissy kind. Just, you know, the kind that makes you smile, and it can be anything, really. I feel loved by my family, and I feel loved by my friends. Sometimes I even feel loved by strangers I’ve never met. Does it sound weird?”

I answered no.

“Well. Anyway. I think it’s because of love that we must travel all that distance. It’s not because love can only be found at the most desolate corner, or the farthest away from home. For me at least, I miss them and realize just how much I love them just a bit more with every step I take.”

“Then why didn’t you turn back? Why did you keep going?” I asked.

She chuckled.

“Because there’s still something for me to do out there.”

Her white cloak fluttered in the wind as she hopped down from the rail. Rose petals scattered in the wind. The orange light of the sun made them look like little sparkles of flame.

“There are still people out there waiting for me. Still many things I have to learn. Not all of them are happy things, and sometimes I can stumble. I can get hurt. But I must dry my eyes if I want to go home. If there’s still something or someone I have to protect. And there’s plenty of those.”

The wind carried them higher and higher to the sky. I wonder if they would rise so high, that they become part of the stars.

“In a sense, I go away so that I can come back to a better world.”

We all had a story to tell.

Now you have heard our stories. There are people you didn’t know even existed whom, I hope, you have come to care about. You have heard our voices, sympathized with our pains, and mourned for our deaths.

I wonder if you learned anything from them? Or perhaps you were reminded of something you have always known?

Will you give up trying to change the world? Will you choose a comfortable and easy life? Will you accept the bad things happening to good people? And endure it?

Or, will you leave your house with a renewed determination to do good? Will you keep your hopes up when everything seem to go wrong? Will you live your day like it is the last? Will you give it your all to everything you do? Will you work to be a better than the person you were yesterday?

Will you remember the sound of silence?