G.N. Chapter 49 (Patreon)

Remnant, in many regards, was a world of lost history.

Though in the present, it is possible to look into the history of the Four Great Kingdoms and a stretch of time predating them, beyond that is a fathomless unknown that goes even further. Because that is Remnant, a world as broken and scourged as the moon it calls its own.

Vale's past was a storied one.

Within its borders exist numerous lost civilisations, both ancient and whose existence is recorded in the annals. Those that are most ancient, their existence predating even the precursor groups that would one day come together to form a primitive Vale, are all but gone. Their remains are so thoroughly erased that little can be known about them, for little to nothing remains of them at all.

But one thing has remained true no matter the period, no matter the scope or scale or whether Human or Faunus.

They all suffered the Grimm.

The Grimm have been present throughout history and before it; the soulless monsters have existed for both Humans and Faunus, an unending scourge that has plagued Remnant… always.

The truth of this is seen earliest not in writings but as far back as cave paintings, the earliest of which shows humans crawling from the dust only to be set upon in their broken world. This is a common trend, and those few archeological expeditions that have yielded fruit, of which there has been an uptick in the past twenty years, have shown that time did not change things.

From primitive tribes to the time of the Paladin War and onward to modernity, the Grimm remained.

But so did civilisation.

The many kingdoms that would be confederated and subjugated to form Vale could all boast an identical trait that would become the building blocks of the Kingdom of Vale.

When the Grimm came, they remained.

It was these stubborn few who had the resilience and strength to put down roots and grow something that made all the difference. From these settlers who moved away from the wandering tribes came the establishment of settlements that would grow to incredible heights.

From villages to towns.

Towns to cities.

And from one of them… Vale.

From Vale came the Kingdom that would claim dominion over the east of Sanus and would go on to establish numerous settlements and outposts while reinforcing those that were already there. A kingdom equal to the likes of those established by the Malik the Sunderere and the Summer King.

Thus, the Kingdom of Vale was forged.

Vale persevered through plague, wars and, of course, the Grimm, who were always there, present and hungry.

As it was, it would remain, their threat in no way diminished as the fall of Mountain Glenn would brutally attest. Having suffered such a horrific loss, the Kingdom of Vale would step back and switch to a state of internal improvement.

Many establishments, both historic and those that could barely be called outposts, would receive an injection of interest and aid from the capital eager to move forward.

…Eager to flee the shadow of their mistakes.

But… this period did indeed show great results. Vale would revisit its dealings with the Kingdom of Atlas, the two kingdoms furthering their bonds through more significant trade and military contracts. Of course, these came with the caveat that the SDC would manage to slip itself in on several of these dealings.

It would also see the capital city go on to almost entirely reconstruct its port, ultimately securing it as the largest in Remnant. Following the calamity of Mountain Glenn, architects, a notable number of them Mistrali, came flooding to the capital to put forth their own efforts as the city began hunting for a solution to its ever-growing population. What went unsaid was the desire to showcase their own ability over those who had already failed.

Vale and Vacuo would accomplish several advancements in the field of agriculture as Vale began to look for further optimisation of their food production preemptively. Using hydroponics would allow both kingdoms to begin several construction projects within their countries, especially within their respective capitals.

But the greatest of Vale’s triumphs did not occur within their capital.

It was the city of Bastion.

The fall of Mountain Glenn was a tragedy that cannot be downplayed; the dream of the capital, the vision of the future, and the hope of the people were gone, savaged by the monsters that lurked just beyond the security of Vale’s defences.

The effect this had on the public was utterly devastating.

Huntsman and the capital Home Guard were forced to work nonstop, ensuring the fall of Mountain Glenn did not spread within the city and that the influx of Grimm, lured by the panic, didn’t overwhelm their defences. Police were sent out to quell the madness that spread to the streets, as the populace lived in a state of rampant fear and anxiety.

But while capital managed to endure, their defences were already being raised from the protracted siege endured by Mountain Glenn before it fell… other locations did not.

Bastion was one such location.

While Bastion was eventually saved by the efforts of a team of Huntsman led by the now legendary ‘Booming Salvation’, it incurred damages on such a scale that there were thoughts of abandonment. The city that had served as a major port linking the east and the west of Sanus was near ruin, with all significant infrastructure practically obliterated.

Only thanks to the use of Great War bunkers did such a large percentage of the population manage to survive the disaster.

While Bastion was still discussing how to proceed, the notion of abandonment made its way back to the capital.

It was deemed unthinkable.

Every effort, expense, and resource was poured into reconstructing Bastion.

In its infancy, Bastion was actually a pirate cove that existed during the time of the third king of Vacuo. Of course, it had no name during this time and eventually wound up being abandoned as the pirates who used it fell victim to the wrath of the first kingdom.

Later, it was rediscovered by a group hailing from Eastern Sanus, who laid claim to it. From there, it grew, utilising its vital position to facilitate trade between Vacuo and the territories of the East. The wealth of supplies and support from the established Kingdom of Vacuo allowed the Bastion of the past to grow until it became a minor Kingdom in its own right.

Bastion would become the capital of the Kingdom of Mordred, which would grow strong for decades before eventually confederating under the banner of Vale towards the end of the Paladin Crusade. It is worth noting that the Kingdom of Mordred was the last of the minor kingdoms to confederate, though not the last to unite with Vale.

That honour went to the Kingdom of Bedivere.

But this only exemplifies Bastion’s resilience, its ability to endure and hold out against the impossible, and these traits were what was kept in mind during its rebuilding. Nearly every facet of the original Bastion had faded with the passage of time and the tribulations of the city; the near-fatal Breach had merely served to finalise the process.

So, when Bastion was rebuilt, it was done with entirely new doctrines and the most advanced construction methods available. What could be salvaged would stand apart as the city reformed, changed, and grew into something new.

Bastion became a sight to behold, boasting its grandeur as the second-largest settlement in the entirety of Vale behind the capital. Its wall is nearly as imposing as the capitals, if not in pure size than in its armament. The city adopted a district system wholly built with the idea of preservation in mind.

The near-fatal Breach that would have doomed the city would never happen again, for the city itself would ensure it. The interior of Bastion was now segmented by interior walls capable of quarantining entire districts in the case of a Breach event. This would contain the event, limiting the devastation the Grimm could unleash while allowing the city to work towards fixing the issue.

The final result, Bastion, became a modern example of how Vale as a Kingdom could stand against the darkness.

This was why, as worrying as the Breach was, those in power within Vale were far from panicking.

“Reports have already come in giving us an estimation on the severity of the Breach and its size; both have been taken into consideration for the beginning of the reclamation plan,” the Speaker of Bastion elucidated, pointing to a map of the city and focusing on the district in question.

The map was very detailed, with a rough red blur in the area proximal to the Breach. The hazy area was as close to accurate as they could hope to achieve. It also showed other colours, these coming in various shades, with each indicating some other aspect of Bastion, whether that be evacuation points, relay locations or even mobilisation routes.

“The evacuation efforts?” Ozpin asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the map, the red seeming to blaze to his eyes.

“Proceeding at a markedly rapid pace… though the last Breach was some years ago, the population has not forgotten it, and we have seen a positive response from the vast majority of the district,” the Speaker answered, his gaze locked on the screen displaying the statistics in question.

“How up-to-date is the information?” Leman enquired. Of the three, he was the only one sitting and eating, enjoying himself a sandwich and drinking from a flask.

“Very; we will get our evacuation stats shortly after they themselves do. Other information, such as further specifics on the Breach and Grimm numbers, will have to come through when available.”

Leman snorted, a grim smile coming to his face. “The wonders of modern technology.”

Ozpin grew a smile of his own. “Different from the days when you were forced to bellow from one end of the city and hope the other side heard?”

“Ha! I’ll have you know there was no hoping. I knew damn well they heard me,” Leman boasted.

The needed jest was felt as those moving through it grew amused at the old Huntsman’s grand boast. Ozpin let slip a chuckle because he knew how true the old Huntsman’s words were. Young Leman had been an utter brat and, even as a child, had a set of lungs that made him quite the effective alarm system.

“Sir, the rally reports you requested,” one of the numerous bustling staff declared, marching up to Leman and handing him a Scroll.

“Ahh, bugger it, just uh do the thing and put it up on the big screen, me hands got mustard on em,” Leman ordered. His orders were swiftly followed, and soon, the display was filled with information about the Huntsman being dispatched to aid in the Bastion situation.

Vale was not half-assing it.

Vale was directing a sizeable portion of their current Huntsman ranks toward Bastion. On the list was a vast selection of individual Huntsman and teams currently being directed toward the city. This included Sponsored Huntsman, those presently operating independently, and even a select section of Beacon students. However, only in the third and fourth years did they gain leave to partake in the contract.

But it wasn’t just Valean support being directed.

“Atlas really enjoy showing off, don’t they?” Leman grunted, looking at Atlas’s contribution.

The Speaker for Bastion quickly clarified: “As much as you are correct, I feel that I should remind you that Bastion does possess several valued targets that Atlas would likely desire to see safeguarded.”

Leman was not appeased, though.

“Atlas or the SDC,” he ground out before taking a particularly angry bite of his sandwich.

The Speaker remained silent.

Ozpin decided it was time to step in, “Vacuo’s support is… interesting, to be sure,” he commented, seeing a familiar name from a past life appear.

Leman swallowed, “You expected them to send their few sponsored our way?”

Ozpin smiled affably, “No, no… I just wasn’t expecting to see that name appear, is all.”

“Aye, the old bird probably wouldn’t have minded sending aid to Bastion, though I'm not sure how he would have felt about his lads starting up a mercenary group,” Leman nodded.

The Speaker merely shrugged at this, “Life in Vacuo is harsh, and much like us, there doesn’t exist a single military power outside of Shade… instead, they boast their mercenary companies.”

“I'm not bothered that his lads decided to follow in his footsteps! I was referring to the bloody name they chose for their group,” Leman protested, jutting a finger at the title of the famed Vacuan mercenary group.

“I think it is fitting; they are literally the ‘Sons of Yarrik’ after all,” Ozpin said, adding his input.

Before further comment could be made on the group's nomenclature, Glynda Goodwitch entered the room, a pile of paper forms in one arm and her riding crop in the other. She cut through the controlled mania of the situation room like a hot knife through butter, her stern glare sending several poor technicians scurrying.

When she reached her target destination, she slammed the sizeable pile of forms in front of the headmaster, the sound of her Crop creaking in her grip audible to everyone at the table. Glynda quickly followed her aggressive action with a speech of equal temperament, “Your students attempted to riot.”

Ozpin looked towards his mug filled with hot cocoa and weighed the pros and cons of going for it.

He decided not to… yet.

“About?”

Glynda inhaled, her nostrils flaring as she rose to her full intimidating height; Ozpin noted that she had her ‘serious’ heels on. “Apparently, the second and first years took exception to the fact that they were prohibited from assisting Bastion, so much so that they started a protest.”

Ozpin began to reach for the cocoa; consequences be damned. “A protest is not a riot…”

“No, but when I informed them that the discussion was not up for debate, there was a mass walkout of classrooms and six separate attempts to break into the armoury,” Glynda seethed.

Ozpin wrapped his hand around the cup, not breaking eye contact with his second. “And…”

“And I handled it… for now,” Glynda finished, furrowing her brow as she dared the headmaster to question how.

Ozpin was not without daring.

“So… a happy ending then, no?”

“Several students have been detained, and you will be needed to actually perform your headmaster duties after the Bastion situation is settled,” Glynda declared, finding her way to a free seat.

Ozpin paused, his cup just before his lips, “Do you mean they have detention-“

“You heard what I said.”

Ozpin stared at Glynda, considering the paths presented to him… before yielding and taking a long sip of his favourite beverage. He had hoped he could enjoy the sweet, warm chocolate beverage for the entire Bastion fiasco… but he might need to switch to coffee at the rate things were going.

He definitely would have to do so before returning to Beacon.

“You should send the young’uns who want to get up to mischief out on patrol and let the people see a strong Huntsman presence is still in the capital while we are moving people about,” Leman suggested.

Glynda looked at the old Huntsman with a frown, but slowly, her face morphed.

“That… is not an idea without merit,” Glynda said, giving the thought some due consideration.

The sound of a chime stopped further discussion as the central screen of the situation room changed to display a screen reading ‘incoming call’.

“Sir, this is an incoming call from Bastion Headquarters. It’s Hunter Commander Jericho, sir,” a technician informed Leman.

“Well, put them through,” Ozpin quickly ordered, ignoring the scowl Leman gave him as the elderly Huntsman hurried to finish his meal.

The screen filled with the face of a huntsman who was clearly only just getting back from a hunt. His face was still smeared in Grimm essence, which had yet to disintegrate. Someone handed him a canteen as the call came through, and the Huntsman wasted no time dumping the contents over his head.

The man’s head was shaved entirely, and long curving scars ran across the top of his scalp, running down and ending just above the brow of his left eye. A part of his left ear was missing, the bit that remained looking ragged in comparison. His skin was leathery in appearance, boasting the darkened tinge of someone who spent an excessive amount of time under the sun.

His nose had clearly been broken at some point and had never fully recovered; his lips were scarred and even notched. The meat of his face seemed absent, giving him very gaunt features as the bones beneath his skin pressed outward.

His eyes were a bright orange, the colour dominating anything else and drawing your attention to his gaze.

He shook it off before slumping back in his chair with a sigh, his eyes finally turning to the camera as he gave a half-hearted salute, “Chief.”

“Jericho, report,” Leman ordered, throwing the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth and taking a swig of his flask to wash it down.

Jericho wiped a hand down his face, the majority of the Grimm blood flaking away as he brushed it from his damp skin. “We have moved to stage two in our defensive operation. We are ready to receive the second wave at any moment and have begun the initial stages of reclamation preparation.”

“Right… now, how are things?” Leman asked, his tone becoming familiar.

Jericho rolled his head around, his neck letting out loud pops that were audible through the speakers. “Well… that depends on which part of the city you’re asking about. See the side where there ain't no Grimm. It's ridiculous, but everything is just fine. I mean, yeah, there's the whole fear of the attack and the constant bloody hammering of the guns and stuff, but… it's calm.”

Ozpin smiled, “Well, that is certainly a positive… and on the other side?”

“Shit’s fucked,” Jericho answered succinctly, earning him a stern glare from Glynda that he casually ignored.

Ozpin sipped from his cocoa and avoided looking at his second, “Elaborate if you would.”

Jericho inhaled deeply before letting out a long, tired sigh, “There are far too many of them; I got the Dredge Cutters in the bay tearing up the aquatic Grimm in such volume the water is looking more like ink. I was out in the water when I got reports of some attack; next thing I know, there is a Breach and a giant fuck off hole in my city's outer wall!”

Jericho took another breath to calm himself, his voice moving away from the gravelly growl of before.

“… Whatever that attack was managed to stir the Grimm up enough, we likely would have had an active night no matter what. If the same lot were also responsible for the Breach… I promise you this: they will go straight to the top of my list.” Jericho hissed, his tone positively murderous.

“You think they were connected?” Leman asked, his countenance gaining an edge.

“… Don’t know what to think; all the shit went down in the same district that’s currently swimming with the damn Grimm… I know the hole was caused by some fuckwit slamming his damn private airship into the wall, but then it went up like something straight out of the Great War!” Jericho yelled, bringing his fist down on his leg so hard the ground beneath his boot cracked.

No one spoke, but the idea went through their heads that the plane might have been intended to do just as it did.

“I’m waiting on some report from the Atlesian airbase where the airship was docked, but somehow, I don’t think I’ll be getting it any bloody time soon,” Jericho informed everyone in the situation room.

“Putting aside that matter for the moment, you don’t foresee any issues holding the wall?” Leman enquired, grasping for a Scroll and looking at the still-flowing statistics.

“As of now, no. I have Huntsman littered at the evacuation points, buying as much time as possible, but I’ve already commenced strategically removing all assets from around the Breach. Only the automated guns and a number of Atlesian Knights are slowing the tide as of this instant.”

Ozpin was the next to enquire, “What of the Grimm themselves? Have you seen-“

A loud blaring Klaxon ripped through the speakers into the situation room as Jericho tore out of his chair. “The hell is going on!”

“Second wave inbound! Breach rear guard has already been overwhelmed!” a voice shouted from off-screen as a fresh wave of energy overtook everyone in the Bastion Headquarters.

“Fuck! Already?” Jericho snarled, marching off-screen before coming back with his Harpoon in hand.

“That’s too soon, dammit! Alert every evacuation point to double-time it, get those people in and close the gates! Pull everyone in and get every available hand on that wall!” Jericho ordered, moving over to the desk.

The situation room was treated to a shaky cam as Jericho fumbled for something on his desk, tearing through his draws. Behind him, the command room was in anarchy, with technicians sending out calls and running in and out of the room.

Jericho reappeared with a Scroll, the device already held to his good ear by his shoulder, as he continued searching through his desk. “This is HQ. Who am I talking to?” Jericho barked into the device, holding a finger out to the video call and asking for a moment.

Something was said, and then Jericho nodded as he began issuing orders while at the same time failing to locate what he had been searching for. “This is Hunter Commander Jericho Pyke; reallocate all Breach resources to the inner guns, second wave inbound.”

His piece said Jericho cut the call and tossed the device carelessly back into a draw before turning to address the room, “Where the hell are my smokes?”

“Call from the harbour; Grimm numbers steady with no signs of increase yet,” someone called out off-screen.

“Tell them to continue to hold. Now again, has anyone seen my-“

A box was tossed to him off-screen, Jericho snatching it from the air, “Cheers!”

Finally, Jericho returned to the video call, fingers pulling a cigarette from the box and placing it between his lips. “Right, we are gonna have to cut this short; I’m heading to the wall. You’ll have to talk to my Guild Master if you need to know anything.”

“Understood, good hunting,” Leman spoke swiftly, not wanting to delay the man from his duty.

Jericho went to reach for the camera but paused, his eyes widening for a moment, “Oh shit, right, I forgot to say thanks for sending so much aid, especially the bunch from Reach. The night might be garbage, but at least I’ll get the chance to compete with my old rival.”

Ozpin and Glynda looked lost at Jericho’s statement, but Leman was now practically on the edge of his chair. “It was their own decision, really, so you’ll have to thank them,” Leman explained eagerly. “Though… I’m surprised you feel that way, considering she one-upped you with that Elder Spriggan,” Leman jested, his smile full of teeth.

Jericho just laughed. “Good point. Maybe delay them if you can,” Jericho jokingly requested. “The Worst we’ve seen so far is some very bloody agro Alpha Nevermore, but if the night continues to go to hell, I might just get unlucky! Now, if you’ll excuse me, gents, mamm, I’m going fishing,” Jericho proclaimed before ending the call.

As soon as the screen went black, Ozpin turned to one of the technicians and asked, “Could you please put us through to the Reach Headquarters… quickly?”

“Cancel that,” Leman’s voice cut across, causing the technician to freeze.

“Chief Rust?” Ozpin spoke, the query evident in his voice.

The elder Huntsman leaned back in his chair, his Scroll in hand, purposefully making no eye contact with Ozpin. “There's no reason for us to bother Franky’s lot; we've got enough going on with Bastion.”

Glynda, ever quick to aide Ozpin, was quick to back him up, “A Hunter Commander just abandoning their post is not something we-“

Glynda felt the words get lodged in her throat as Leman Rust looked her dead in the eye.

Leman Rust was an old man who had been around for nearly a century. He had killed damn near every kind of Grimm in existence, had fought and led in the Great War and had killed more men than he cared to count.

He had fought alongside true legends, such as the Warrior King of Vale, Europa the Unyielding, Hawk-eye Yarrik, and the Sentinel.

He had also fought against just as many—the Red Wake of Mistral, The Mechanist, The Imperial Beast and the Shadow of Atlas.

Yet he remained… only he did.

Everyone he had known, who he had counted amongst his time, had gone and passed, leaving only him as a testament to what was. Gone were those who had stood with him on the field of battle, either by his side or opposed.

Of them all, the only one who might still be around was the Beast, who had long since disappeared with the Lost Heir.

But Leman… Leman was still around. He was the last of the Warrior Kings' honour guard, the man who had been there on the day the war ended.

The man who had survived what followed…

His tribulations had seen him rise to the position of Chief Huntsman, a position thrust upon him by the old guard even before the Huntsman Academies finished being constructed. When the Warrior King put his new system into practice, it fell to Leman to hold it up. While the king dedicated all his time to Beacon and the other academies in his last few years, Leman had taken up the charge of Vale’s ‘Huntsman’, who had survived the Great War.

He had welcomed the very first graduates into a system that was as new as they were, and just as swiftly, he had sent them out to die. He had been a pallbearer for the last of Vale’s Kings, and it had fallen to him to be the last of Vale’s knights.

Leman did so without faltering.

He saw Vale’s Huntsman through the turbulent years following the Great War, the Faunus Revolution, and, most recently, the Fall of Mountain Glenn. He had sat the council longer than any other individual, and it was he and he alone who, better than any other, had seen the rise of the new ‘Vale’.

Now he was old, his hair had thinned and lost its lustre, his skin carried as many wrinkles as it did scars, and his body fought him ceaselessly. He saw the looks he got and knew the thoughts and doubts that plagued the minds of the young and brazen. Most of all, he knew his end was coming; he knew that time would continue to beat him until, at last, he would not be able to parry the next strike or block the next blow.

But until then… until that time came…

He was still Leman Rust, the last knight of the Kingdom of Vale.

He was Leman Rust, the man who had single-handedly given more data to the GII than anyone else alive.

He was Leman Rust, Elder Slayer.

He was Leman Rust.

And he was The Executioner.

Glynda Goodwitch was reminded of this when Leman Rust rose from his chair. The man stood over her, even in her heels, his bearded chin level with her forehead. Though time had ravaged him, he was still twice as broad as her, and though they had withered, his musculature was visible as he clenched his fist.  

One hand fell to the hilt of his axe, Geri, as he let his Aura shimmer over his frame, the icy blue like the glare of a glacier. At the same time, the scabbard of his sword, Freki, scraped against his chair knocking the furniture over.

Leman’s voice was low and fierce. “I must have misheard you, Goodwitch. What do you mean by ‘We’?” The Chief Huntsman of Vale asked.

“Leman, this is-“

“I was not speaking to you, Headmaster; I was speaking to one of my Huntresses!” Leman boomed over Ozpin.

The headmaster went silent.

“I understand, better than likely any other, the importance of Beacon and the necessity of your position… but do not think for a moment that you may yet command my Huntsman,” Leman growled out his amber eyes like the predators he had grown so fond of as a child.

Hearing the Chief Huntsman’s words, Glynda quickly realised their truth. Glynda might be a teacher and a member of Beacon’s staff… but she was still a registered Huntress of Vale, and as such, Leman Rust was still her commander.

“I apologise, I misspoke… I only thought it pertinent to illustrate the issues of a Hunter Commander being away from their post during such a turbulent time,” Glynda said with her head bowed.

Leman was quick to calm, his hand falling from the haft of his axe to be crossed across his broad chest instead as he continued to pin Ozpin with a furious glare. “You would be correct, and if I had not given my leave for his actions, I would have flown out myself to drag the Grandbrat of Rig in for a beating the likes of which his damn ancestors would have felt.”

‘Bastards would deserve it for dying on me and leaving me stuck here to deal with this bullshit alone,’ Leman thought spitefully, remembering the two Arcs he had once enjoyed the pleasure of fighting alongside.

Glynda’s fists clenched as she spoke again, “With Hunter Commander Arc away, does this not leave Reach in a weaker position?”

Leman finally broke his starring contest with Ozpin to adequately address one of his Huntresses.

“Considering Reach will be used as the staging ground for further relief efforts, it will likely be more protected than it has been in quite a while,” Leman explained calmly, returning to his seat.

“Is that not more reason for the commander of the settlement’s Huntsman to be present,” Ozpin intoned.

Leman felt the urge to throw something at the young headmaster but beat it down viciously, “A commander’s place is with his men, always.”

Ozpin’s reaction to Leman’s words was visceral. Leman watched as the man’s mouth was left slightly parted, his flesh pale, and his eyes wide in shock as if seeing a ghost. For his part, Leman was confused by such an expressive reaction on the part of the headmaster, not that he let his confusion show.

Leman took advantage of Ozpin’s stunned silence by cutting off further dialogue, “I likely have a long night ahead of me and would like to be left to perform my duties. Please go through the proper channels if you need to contact me. Dismissed.”

Ozpin did not delay, briskly rising from his seat and marching from the room. Glynda followed behind him, casting a lingering look back at the elderly Chief Huntsman.

Once the two were out of the situation room and in a sufficiently abandoned hallway, Glynda could no longer hold back her curiosity and was quick to interrogate Ozpin. “What was that back there? You looked as if you were going to be ill.”

“… I let myself forget just how old our illustrious Chief Huntsman is…” Ozpin whispered, his expression still unsettled.

“… What he said…”

Ozpin let a smile flash across his face, “A quote.”

“Who did he quote to make you react like that?” Glynda asked, feeling particularly unsettled.

“He quoted m-… He quoted Vale’s Warrior King… those were the words he used to argue against his advisors when he declared his intent to lead his troops to Vacuo,” Ozpin answered.

Glynda could only blink in shock, pausing in the hall as she glanced back towards the situation room, her brow furrowed.

Ozpin only realised she wasn’t by his side when he was a good few meters away, and the Headmaster turned to investigate why. “Glynda?”

When Glynda turned back to her leader, she did so with a frown on her face and a question behind her eyes. “Sir… why is it that you never…“

“Why didn’t I invite Leman into our group?” Ozpin finished for her.

Glynda nodded.

Ozpin began fiddling with the head of his cane; his lips pursed as he looked at his oldest surviving companion. Finally, he planted the cane on the floor and smiled at his second, “Because Glynda, who we are is not always who we were.

Glynda’s frown somehow deepened, “You think he’s changed?”

Ozpin huffed out in amusement, “No, no… well, yes. He’s matured, I suppose… it only took a couple extra decades.”

“Then why?”

“… Because I have,” Ozpin answered honestly.

“… Sir?”

Ozpin looked away from Glynda, his face becoming pained for an instant, “Leman might be one of the most loyal men ever to exist. On the battlefield, there were maybe only two others I would have wished to have watched my back in his place.”

“So you trusted him?”

Ozpin nodded, “With my life.”

“… I don’t understand,” Glynda uttered with a shake of her head.

“… Leman Rust did not know me… he knew the Warrior King… and if he knew the truth…” Ozpin looked to Glynda with a look of soul-deep pain. “He would likely have no recourse but to kill me on the spot.”

Glynda looked on stunned, “That seems… I don’t think that-“

Ozpin shook his head.

“You know he helped bury me?” Ozpin commented, utterly shattering Glynda’s train of thought.

“What?”

“Leman, he and the last of my… the Warrior King’s knights. They were the ones who buried me when I passed… well entombed me,” Ozpin shrugged.

Glynda had nothing to say to that.

“Puts a certain spin on ‘buried in the past’, doesn’t it… well, suppose it doesn’t matter now, does it? What with it being history and all,” Ozpin thought aloud.

“Sir…”

Ozpin began to walk away once more, “Come, I should like to see the state of my academy and then see if our people have managed to make their way to Reach yet.”

Glynda watched Ozpin stride off for a moment longer before she pursued.

As she walked, she thought about Ozpin’s words and wondered for a moment what he meant when he said that Leman would have no choice but to kill him.

Little did she know that Ozpin’s thoughts were much the same.

Only while hers were rife with curiosity, Ozpin’s were accompanied by the oldest and most frequent of all his emotions.

Ozpin no longer worried he would die with regrets.

He expected it.

YVYVYVYVY

“… So Franky’s gonna definitely kill you, right?” Orr asked, laid out across several of the Bullhead's seats. Her question managed to gain the leader of this expedition's attention as he looked back from the rushing landscape below.

“She will have ample support, and the towns are on lockdown as is. Besides, I left the twins behind, and they are more than capable of backing her up,” Cloud answered, his large armoured frame taking up two seats.

Orr snorted, giving Cloud a very judging look, “We are leaving her to deal with Huntsman from across all of bloody Vale, big wigs from the Capital and Atlesians.”

“… Well, when you put it all together, it sounds bad,” Cloud grumbled.

“Well, when you put them all together, it is bad,” Orr stressed.

At this point, Dr Kaiser interjected into the conversation, “Question?”

Ignoring Orr’s judging look, Cloud addressed the ‘retired’ Huntsman, “Yeah?

“Why the fuck am I registered as a fourth Huntsman on our dispatch?”

Cloud shrugged, “You were the one who said you wanted to come. I just made it work.”

“Isn’t this lying on an official document, though?” Dr Kaiser asked, worried.

Cloud laughed lightly, “Ah, nah, not really.”

Orr sat up at this point, looking at Cloud as if he were insane. “Hey, I’m all for stirring up a bit of chaos, but aren’t you supposed to be… responsible?”

“Well, yeah, but like I said, it's fine,” Cloud waved them off.

Nickel Kaiser, however, was not satisfied, “Explain please… with detail.”

Cloud sniffed, “Well, you used to be a Huntsman, so-“

“Cloud, I let my license time out; I’m not legally a Huntsman anymore,” Nick declared worriedly.

“Yeah, I know, calm down,” Cloud spoke gently, “As I was saying, when I explained the situation and who you were, old man Leman was happy to give you a free pass, so you’re all sorted.”

Nick stared at Cloud for a whole three seconds before speaking, “… Old… man… Old man Leman?”

Cloud nodded, “Yeah, once I called him up and told him what was happening, he gave us leave to go, but on the condition that we actually help Bastion deal with the Breach, which is kind of fair.”

Nick looked to Orr, who was staring equally wide-eyed, and decided that he very much needed clarification. “… For the record… when you say old man Leman… you wouldn’t happen to be referring to Leman Rust, Chief Huntsman of Vale and the oldest surviving Huntsman ever… would you?”

Cloud just nodded happily, “Yeah, he served in the Great War with my grandad and Great-Grandfather. I’ve known him since I was a little kid.”

At this point, Nick was reminded that while he may be famous in a sense, the name Arc carried a degree of renown that far surpassed him. He might be a hero of yesteryear, but the fact remained that the name Arc was written in the annals of history several times over.

“You mean to tell me that the Leman Rust, living legend and arguably the most powerful man in Vale, was who you went to for clearance?” Nick asked, trying not to feel overwhelmed by the fact that Cloud had gone to the very top of the Huntsman Guild of Vale.

“He is literally my direct superior, so…” Cloud shrugged.

“Don’t worry, Cloud, old Nick here just forgot that under your smiley exterior, you're actually a bit of a badass,” Orr teased, sliding next to the good doctor and ribbing him.

“Hey, I’m badass,” Cloud pouted. “Love, you think I’m badass right?”

Hella didn’t say anything, her eyes glued to her Scroll.

Cloud's upbeat mood vanished instantly, “Hella?”

“… I’m gonna ground him.”

Everyone was confused, but it was Cloud who put their confusion into words, “I’m sorry, ground who?”

Hella looked up from her Scroll, looking particularly grouchy as she responded, “Jaune, I’m grounding him.”

Using a lifetime of experience, Cloud kept himself from smiling, “I see… why?”

“Because every damn time I let him out of my sight, shit like this happens,” Hella cursed.

Cloud winced, “That’s not fair, it's not his fault-“

“Last time, it was an Elder Spriggan Cloud! This time it’s a damn Breach in what's supposed to be the second most secure city in Vale!” Hella roused her usual calm demeanour forgotten as she brought her fist down, devastating the seat next to her own.

“… Well, that’s true, but it's not like Jaune caused those events,” Cloud argued, trying to defend his only son even if his luck was atrocious. “Jade and Sky are equally as involved this time, and if we are being fair, the last time is more the twin's fault as they somehow missed an Elder Grimm on their sweep.”

To say Hella had been harsh to the twins for a while would be an understatement. She practically exploded into the guild and demanded they meet her in the training yard after they rescued Jaune. Cloud had to drag Hella away with all his strength as the twins apologised profusely on their knees.  

“I don’t care; he’s grounded, and if need be, I will ground them too,” Hella declared, crossing her arms.

Seeing her chance, Orr quickly interjected, “Isn’t Jaune an adult now?”

At this exact moment, Nickel Kaiser, a man of great experience and wisdom, got up from his seat and moved to the cockpit, closing the door behind himself.

The pilot looked up with a quirked brow, “Everything good?”

“Orr’s being herself,” Nick answered, sliding into the copilot seat.

“Ah… shit.”

A new energy filled the space in the bay as Hella turned her attention to her son's first friend. “He is,” Hella responded, her words coming out so threateningly they might as well have been a coded message to run.

Orr tilted her head, “Well then, you can't really ground him, can you? He’s an adult now.”

At this point, Cloud looked at the cockpit door and wondered if his armoured frame could fit through it.

Unfortunately not.

“… I’m his mother,” Hella warned dangerously, her Aura flashing for an instant.

Orr smiled, “And he’s legally an adult.”

“That has nothing to do with this,” Hella denied. “I’m sick of him throwing himself into danger, and I won't have it happen again. If need be, I will restrict him to his bedroom until the message sinks in that he needs to be more cautious,” Hella proclaimed.

“… Well,” Orr drew the word out, her eyes flashing dangerously, “What if he didn’t live with you guys anymore?”

Cloud was now actively contemplating getting out of his armour.

“Excuse me?”

Hella was glaring now, one hand fisting the destroyed seat next to her, horribly warping the metal support that allowed the seats to hold someone of Cloud's considerable weight. Her other hand had discarded the Scroll she had been examining and now rested atop her gauntlets.

Orr loved every second of this, though, and moved forward to sit at the edge of her seat, hands clenched together as she leaned toward Hella. “… I have an apartment now, and rent’s a bitch.”

The sound of metal tearing was damning to the point that Cloud began preparing himself to either intercede… or throw himself from the Bullhead. ‘Nick can probably save the pilot, right?’

Hella hissed, “You are on thin ice.”

Orr chuckled, “How about this; let's give you some extra fuel for that fire! If you find Jaune first, you get to be a big, mean mommy and ground him-“

Hella, now holding her weapons in both hands, her glare sharp and piercing.

“But if I find our boy first, I get to invite him to be my roommate!”

Seeing that Hella was likely about to attempt to hurl Orr from their ride, Cloud decided to interject. “What if I find him?”

Both women broke their glare off to look at Cloud, who smiled back, “What? He’s my kid too, you know.”

Orr shrugged, being in a far calmer state of mind, “What do you want?”

“Huh… give me a minute,” Cloud mumbled, scratching at his stubbly cheek. Both women kept their focus on him just as Cloud planned, aiding in settling the rather erratic tension from before. “Oh, how about this! If I find Jaune, I take him on a father-son bonding trip up to Mantle!”

“What!” Orr cried out.

Hella’s frown just came back in full force.

“It’ll be great. I can take him to meet the old goat and show him some of our ancestry up close and in person!”

“Brothers be damned, what do you two have against me getting to spend some damn time with my Sprout!” Orr snapped.

Hella whipped around, “You see him at least once a week?”

Orr looked at Hella aghast, “And you think that’s enough!”

Cloud continued, picturing how great the adventure could be. “We could even go fishing in the sea or out on the ice!”

At this point, Dr Kaiser, still in the cockpit, activated the intercom. “Not to stir this already… messy pot. But aren’t the two parents even slightly concerned about, say, I don’t know, their other children?”

The piercing look Hella gave through the cockpit window would have had a lesser man soiling themselves. “I resent what you are implying, Dr Kaiser.”

“Yeah, doc, not cool,” Orr called out.

Cloud, though, was a bit more understanding. “I know it might sound like we only really care about Jaune, doctor, but I assure you my wife and I are concerned for the well-being of all our children.”

Hella now had both her gauntlets on and was still staring at the cockpit door.

“They just aren't as worried about them because they’ve got Jaune,” Orr explained, still frowning.

The intercom crackled to life again, “Yo, pilot here, just want to say first and foremost that if Hella rips through that door, I am ejecting all of you.” Hella didn’t take her gauntlets off, and her expression became tighter. “Also, I gotta agree with the doctor here; I haven’t heard you blubber about your ‘precious little girls’ even once, Cloud. The fucks up with that?”

Cloud laughed at the confusion in their pilot's voice, “Yeah, I get why that might seem strange, but I promise you it's quite simple.”

“Go on?”

Hella answered, her words clipped as she continued to stew in her frustration. “We know that so long as Jaune is safe, our daughter will be perfectly fine, as Jaune would die before letting them come to harm.”

Orr quickly supported Hella’s claim, “Yeah, nah, my Sprout managed to survive an Elder Spriggan, and that was when he was still a cute little shorty. Now that he’s a big manly man… well, let's say a girl wishes she could have had that as a big brother,” Orr finished with a wolf whistle.

Hella responded by hurling a piece of the warped chair at Orr’s head, who swiftly dodged and giggled. “Don’t shame my oni-san fantasies!”

“Oi stop breaking shit back there; I know this isn't our Bullhead, but I still don’t want to hear the Atlesians bitch and moan when we return it,” the Pilot scolded from the cockpit.

Orr was a roll though now, “Oh hush, they won't bitch to you. They will act all high and mighty and go straight to Franky.”

This did not calm the pilot, though, “That’s worse! I'd rather deal with some wannabe aristocrats than Franky on a warpath.”

Orr changed targets to messing with the pilot, going into great detail about the many punishments that Franky had personally inflicted on herself. Cloud smiled at the mood becoming far lighter than the previous tension, letting himself slump back into his seat.

Hella quickly took up a place by his side, one of her gauntlets hanging from her belt so she could hold her Scroll again. She leaned against her husband without any words and showed him what she had been looking at.

“No messages,” Hella explained, fretfulness slipping into her voice.

Cloud saw the stream of messages Hella had sent with no response. Without prompting, his wife flicked from Jade to Sky’s number, showing much the same. She ended on Jaunes and looked up at Cloud with vulnerability she only ever revealed to him.

“Before the Breach, there was an attack. An area of the city lost all communications… it was situated around the studio Sky was going to,” Cloud informed his wife, his expression becoming dimmer.

Hella received this new information and slumped down next to her husband.

“They’re okay… they have to be,” Cloud stated, resting his hand on Hella’s thigh.

“I know… Jaune… he would keep them safe no matter what,” Hella reiterated with a proud smile.

“He would, he’s a good kid,” Cloud affirmed.

The two sat in silence, but the worry would not abate so easily despite their words.

Cloud hated such silences and was quick to put an end to it.

“Are you really gonna ground him?” Cloud asked, curious.

“That depends,” Hella answered, her face gaining a slight smile.

Cloud looked down at his wife, “On?”

“On whether or not he’s waiting for us at an evacuation point when we arrive,” Hella answered honestly.

“Ah… well, that’s good then. Jaune wouldn’t have hung around to fight Grimm, so I guess I’ll get that fishing trip,” Cloud celebrated.

“… If you find him first,” Hella teased.

“Ha… What if Orr finds him first?”

“Then they will never find all her pieces,” Hella laughed.

Cloud joined in, enjoying his wife's humour in the face of the stressful moment.

Orr smiled at the scene, happy that she had been able to beat back the growing worry hanging over the two parents. For her part, Orr leaned back into her seat and stared at the ceiling, her mind turning to the time spent with her Sprout in the wild.

‘He’s fine… he’s fine,’ Orr thought, her memories carrying her back to the day she and her Sprout had nearly lost their lives. She still remembered that day with annoying clarity, the sound of wood splintering and creaking intermixed with inhuman buzzing roars, the smell of mud and blood and frigid air.

The feel of ice burning her exposed flesh as her Aura shattered utterly beneath the strain of her activating her Semblance when she was already spent—the fleeting vision of her Sprout putting himself between her and the still-standing Elder Spriggan.

In her head, she kept repeating the mantra, ‘He’s okay, he’s fine,’ but doubt managed to slip through the cracks regardless.

Because if her Sprout would put himself in the path of an Elder Grimm for her…

What would he do for his sisters?