380Book II: The King's Dilemma
Chapter 51
"Miss Polendina and Miss Schnee have been recalled to Atlas," Ozpin informed him that night, upon his arrival back at the Apollyon Estate. "Ironwood is requesting immediate assistance."
"Salem has launched a full-scale assault on the Kingdom of Atlas."
-o-o-o-
For the second time in recent memory, the world was burning.
Fria watched the battalions of Atlas valiantly fight to protect their homeland. But it was no use.
Below, Mantle was blazing to the ground.
Above, the swathes of Grimm were so numerous that they blotted out the heavens.
It was the middle of the day, but you could have sworn it was midnight, and no one would deny you.
The door to her abode swung open with a click. The clacking of heeled boots.
There was the girl. The heiress-turned-operative.
Winter had been visiting her for many months now. Evidently, the General had ordered her to do so.
The reason was, Fria deduced, that every time she came to visit, there was a certain, stony look in her eye. Winter didn't enjoy visiting an old hag, obviously. It was a chore for the girl, who also had military missions and training.
"So, you've finally come."
"You were expecting me?" the girl had a dumbfounded look on her face, which reminded Fria of those new recruits every year.
"Do not think me a fool, child!" she snapped. "You have deigned to visit me for several months now. I know how James thinks. I've seen him grow from a young boy to the General in front of my own two eyes."
James wanted Winter to be the Winter Maiden. That much was clear. Winter was to be Fria's last thought when she passed away peacefully of old age.
But with the state of emergency, that scenario was no longer possible. The General required the services of the Winter Maiden.
"Although my body may be weak, my mind remains sharp," Fria scoffed. "Don't harm the pride of this old hag. So, if you're going to do it, do it quickly."
The girl was speechless for a second, but quickly cleared her throat and regained her composure, as expected of a specialist. She advanced slowly, unsheathing her sword.
Her arm was strong and steady, and the tip of her saber did not waver—her arm muscles were relaxed. The girl's hair was of the brightest living white as it caught the sterile light. Her brow was clear and ample, and her blue eyes were clear and cloudless with a clarity that matched her clenched jaw, the moulding of her face calm.
To the average onlooker, it might have appeared that she was at peace… but she was not.
Fria had been ready for some time, but this girl, perhaps she had only been informed of her orders a few hours ago, perhaps less than that. It was akin to suddenly being told that you were to murder the old lady in your nursing home who was to pass away in a few weeks. Anyone would be shaken by such a thing.
As Winter approached, Fria took a moment to reflect.
She had had a fairly unremarkable early childhood. But, when the war started, she had witnessed the death of a strange woman. For whatever reason, she was drawn to her, and stood over the soon-to-be corpse just as the woman's eyes fluttered and closed.
The life of a maiden was not without hardship. A great level of power painted a target the size of Vale on her back, and she had been, for much of her life, on the run, attempting to protect her independence from the several kingdoms who looked for them
Eventually, Fria chose to settle in Atlas.
But one of her greatest regrets was never achieving anything significant. She became Atlas' maiden, their deterrent against any external threats. And that was it.
Nothing noteworthy had occurred in her time.
"Do you have anything you wish to say?"
Fria thought about it for a moment. "…Yes."
"What is it?" Winter's voice strained slightly. She swallowed.
Fria reached out, grabbed Winter by the wrist, and pulled her close, close enough so that she could feel Fria's breath against her ear. "Well… if there's anything you want to take away from me, it's that you should be great."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't be a tool. You're not a weapon. You're not just a specialist. You're a fine, young woman, and I'm sure you'll go on to achieve great things. Only you can forge your own path. Never forget that."
"I understand."
The girl waited longer, but when at last she sensed that Fria had nothing more to say…
"O-Okay. I'm—" Winter swallowed again. "I'm going to do it now." She held her blade with two hands—but a fine, firm grip did not prevent the tip from trembling this time. The pale, pallor of her face.
Tears. They came slowly at first, then all at once, streaming down her cheeks. She was crying.
And as she brought the saber down, Fria smiled.
So Winter did enjoy visiting after all.
-o-o-o-
Ozpin was in front of him, having insisted on this impromptu one-on-one meeting. But the truth was that Percy had already known that Atlas was being attacked—Kalman and Nao had informed him earlier, during the coronation ceremony.
"General Ironwood has instituted martial law," Ozpin continued, his brow furrowing. It was still strange to talk to a boy in the middle of puberty, who was also a millennia-old man. "I fear the use of his semblance."
"What is his semblance?" Percy asked curiously.
"Mettle," Ozpin nearly immediately answered. The time of secrets was over, and the reincarnated soul would freely divulge any level of information he had. "It removes his emotions, and he focuses purely on logic—fitting for a military general, wouldn't you say?"
"That's probably right. If Penny and Winter were recalled earlier, then it must be a state of great emergency."
"You know the current state of events, do you not?" Ozpin countered sharply. "Must you continue to feign ignorance?"
"No, no, you're right," Percy admitted. There was no benefit to keeping Ozpin out of the loop. "There was an attack on the SDC banquet at the Schnee Mansion. Mantle was the first to fall."
"And Atlas may soon follow. But, there remains one detail that bothers me… how did they get past Atlas's defenses?"
Percy took a moment to think about it as well.
"It must be Salem's Apostles," he concluded. "They sneaked into northern Atlas and split Ironwood's forces between Mantle and Atlas. The heavy-hitters are on Atlesian soil."
"That's the same conclusion I came to," Ozpin nodded. "This may be a dire issue for Atlas. Do you know the number of casualties so far?"
"None. Only that Ironwood requested assistance."
"And will you send assistance to James?"
"If you're asking whether I'm going, the answer is that I'm not," Percy answered. "I have my own kingdom to take care of, now. I'll send Sage to Atlas."
"Do you not intend to save Atlas?" Ozpin pressed, rising from his chair, which ended up scraping against the ground with a screech.
"You seem pretty adamant about having me go to Atlas. Have you not considered that Salem may attack Mistral while I am away? Do you have such a soft spot for Atlas?"
"Of course, I've considered that, but the importance is that Salem's Apostles are attacking Atlas right now. We cannot afford to waste our time on mere hypotheticals."
This time, it was Percy who stood up. "Mere hypotheticals?!" His eyes were dark, and his features distorted with indignation.
"You are mistaken. I am not the world's savior, nor am I obligated to act as one. My ascension has not yet been completed, and my semblance is fading," he revealed wholly. "Atlas holds the strongest military in the world. What makes you so certain that they cannot handle it? I have full confidence in General Ironwood, but it seems like the contrary for you."
"You are digressing!" Ozpin's voice rose to match his. "Atlas may just fall, and with it, the Relic of Creation!"
Relic of Creation? Percy was suddenly reminded of the Relic of Knowledge, which sat in the form of an unassuming ring on his left hand.
But Ozpin did not know that.
"The Relic of Knowledge remains here," Percy stated. "Should we not protect the remaining relics, then, and ensure that Mistral remains secure? If Salem is attacking Atlas with such force, it is only logical that she will soon turn her sights on the rest of the world. We cannot be reckless in dividing our resources."
Ozpin's face hardened as he absorbed Percy's words. "I understand your concern for Mistral, Percy. But I fear that if Atlas falls, it will tip the balance of power irreparably in Salem's favor. Once Atlas is lost, it will be a downhill battle for the rest of Remnant."
Percy, his tone still sharp but more measured, responded, "Then let Atlas fight. Let Ironwood and his soldiers prove their strength. The world does not need me to rush in at every moment of crisis. I have my own role to play here, and I will not abandon Mistral."
The silence between them was thick with tension. Ozpin studied Percy for a long moment, his eyes flickering—something akin to the memories of souls, the weight of centuries' of responsibilities. It must have been at least one minute.
"Very well," he said finally, letting out a resigned sigh. "But know this, Percy: the choices we make today will shape the future of Remnant. I only hope you are prepared to live with the consequences."
Percy's gaze did not waver.
"I always am."
This was a shorter chapter than usual, as will be the next one. At the time of writing, I had been swamped with work, but things are better now. If you would like to support my writing or read three chapters ahead, please join the link below!
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Next Chapter: December 15th
-thann