The Battle of Ansel

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"She said we should have fifteen minutes, Jaune." Saphron explained as they jogged, her armor clanking and his clothing whipping behind him as they went. Climbing to the top of the wall, soldiers in armor and sporting spears parted to let them by on their way to their positions. "We form up here, receive their attack, withdraw to the main wall if we have to. Either way, the Grimm won't stop until they're all dead. Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"Not really, but I have power and this is my town. I'm not letting the damn Grimm lay a claw on it." He answered simply, using the Force to call his saber around and into his hand, spinning the staff a couple times to feel the weight of it and then nodding. Turning to the woman he said simply, "I need to meditate before the battle. Attune myself to the Force and suffuse my equipment in it, make it part of me. Do you need my help setting up the defense?"

"No, you do your stuff." He nodded and she turned, shouting orders to soldiers around her, and he stepped back and away.

Sitting to the side of the path between the farms, he laid the staff across his knees and let his eyes close on the scene before him. Behind him, he could sense the people in the settlement who couldn't, or for whatever reason wouldn't, join the Guard and fight the Grimm. Children, the old, the wounded, those who hadn't trained for the duties needed or simply lacked the temperament for it, all herded towards Arc Manor with the best tenth of the Guard that lived in Ansel.

He felt their fear, saw the way that tempest wafted above the settlement like thunderclouds over the great ocean of the Force. Below, treading the water of the Ocean, he hissed as the waves kicked up around him threatened to overwhelm him and drown him, drag him beneath their panic, fear and everything else and drown him in it.

With a breath, he focused that essence, that storm, into one hand. The Dark Side answered his call as readily as a servant to his master's, crackling through him with a feeling like fire and lightning under his skin. Fire and lightning he held in his hand, the heart of the great storm incarnate, burning and crackling to be free but trapped within his will and mind. Or rather, contained in it. Like a lightning rod for a storm's strike, or a hearth for a roaring fire.

But he could not contain it on his own, not for long anyways. He needed a controller for it, and so looked for the Light.

He reached and, within the tempest stirring to life throughout Ansel and setting his own fire burning in his heart, found the Light he needed. The courage of the soldiers who, trembling in instinctive fear ahead of a Grimm assault, stood their ground yet. Each of them, to the very last, stood as bastions in the storm as islands in the ocean. Unaware of the storm, the islands stood, but stood against it regardless like the soldiers arrayed before Ansel stood against the hurricane howling of the Force tempest around them. Bastions of calm, the eyes of a million hurricanes, and he seized on them and his own calm core, deep inside where his surety of purpose sat.

That he held in his other hand, bringing the two together and letting the cool calm of the two sides of the coin rage and cool in equal measure and changing turns.

"Grimm incoming! Grimm incoming!" He heard the cry of warning a second before the staccato rifle fire began cracking along the line and he opened his eyes, looking up on the two rows of defenders.

Riflemen behind spearmen, the former gunning down the monsters while the former prepared to brace against their charge. Inside a minute, the riflemen began ducking back as the Grimm leapt for them and the spearmen began the desperate job of fending them off, a woman over the gate tumbling towards the ground below with a startled cry as a dying Grimm batted her back.

Using the Force, he lifted himself from the ground and shoved himself forward, using the momentum to break into a run while his staff came around his off side for him to catch. His free hand lashed out and, like burst of wind blowing her up and away from the ground, the woman's arms snapped out and she grunted almost inaudibly in the noise around them, stilling a few inches above the ground before dropping with a metal thud as he reached her, gave her a smile, and leapt with a thwump of Force hurling him up.

A Beowolf met him, red eyes looking into electric green, and his hand lashed out, a cannon ball of Force energy caving its chest in and hurling it back towards its packmates as he landed above the gate. Lightsaber hissing to life, he met the next leaping Grimm's face with the heated plasma, boiling bone and flesh back and away as the dead thing tumbled to the ground beyond the gate. A man beside him cried out as a Grimm grabbed his arm, other holding the wall and pulling itself over, and he swung without bothering to look. The Grimm fell back with a bestial whine of pain and the man staggered away, the next slash beheading the enraged Grimm before it could act.

All down the line, spears reached down to the base of the wall, stabbing at lupine Grimm that snapped and frothed, lashing at the weapons to try and get through or simply leaping and hoping it would work out. Most of the time, he saw rifle fire cut them down, sending their corpses into the wall and tumbling to their fellows below. Occasionally, faster and further than he could even use the Force to intervene, the Grimm would get a hold of the wall or a defender. In the former case, men gave room and pulled axes or picks taken from the base of the wall to beat them back.

In the latter case, men and women struggled to hold their fellow and kill the beast, and usually both fell to the other side of the wall, disappearing under Grimm there.

A Grimm a few feet down leapt at the wall and his hand lashed up, Force pushing the monster to the side and away before it could land. Turning the other way when he sensed the bestial intent, he did the same for another Grimm. But he couldn't keep up, lashing out as he was, even when he collapsed his saber and used both hands, lashing out again and again to deflect the attack until his arms trembled from the effort.

"Agh!" He turned at the shrill, pained cry, hand coming up as fury and defiance welled up on each side of the Force to lash out, and felt both sides chill like the blood in his veins.

Saphron, spear falling away while her hands clutched at the maw of the Grimm on her shoulder, blood flowing past the holes the Alpha had punched in her armor. It wrenched to the side and the woman screamed again, tossed back and away from the wall. She landed on the ground in a pile of metal, torn cloth, and flowing blood.

Her arm landed at Jaune's feet, while the Grimm brought an arm up to defend against the mighty, cleaving strike from his father's great sword. It batted the weapon aside and turned, claws sweeping up for his throat, and Jaune lashed out at him. With a sound like wet wood cracking and popping, the Grimm's arm snapped back on itself, the monster fighting the Force for a moment before its other arm and leg joined it. Head resting on its chest, the Grimm's red eyes met his for a brief moment.

And then he crushed it into a ball the size of Jaune's chest, which he hurled towards the forest at hurricane force.

Turning to the onslaught of Grimm he bellowed, both arms lashing forward as the Dark Side rushed through him. Rage, pain, a thirst for revenge as sure as his thirst for water and air, all rushed through him and dispelled the ethereal calm the Light Side suffused him with. In a wide arc in front of him, the Grimm were hurled back by the raw power, a wide cone of stunned monsters and cleared ground ahead of the gate.

"Jaune, wait-!"

Without hesitation, he brought his foot to the top of the wall and leapt, hurtling high into the air with the fury of the Force. Then he hurtled down with the force of an asteroid coming to ground, slamming into the ground and using the Force to protect himself in a cocoon of power before bursting that bubble and hurtling the stone around him out and away. Like shrapnel from a bomb, the stone, Grimm plating, even the Grimm themselves hurtled away in a withering shower the sent a hundred Grimm into their demise.

Rising, he slid his left leg back and brought his staff up, spinning on the palm of his hand in front of him as the saber flickered to double-ended life.

A Grimm, one arm hanging lim and covered in rocks, staggered up and hissed a snarl at him as he closed with it, before his saber beheaded it. Using the Force, he hurled it back and into the presence of another Grimm, crushing it under the other's weight and force, while his saber lashed out to his right and bisected a leaping young Beowolf from shoulder to shoulder, blasting the remnants aside and moving to the next. An armored, Alpha Beowolf, covered in broken spines, chipped armor and freshly bloodies wounds, the creature limped toward him and swiped ineffectually with its good arm.

An arm he used the Force to snap aside, crushing the Grimm into the ground until it died, adding its smoke to that already choking the air.

"Jaune D'Arc, you hold still!" His father grabbed his free arm, intelligently avoiding the one holding the saber, and spun him to face him. "Look around you, boy!"

Grabbing his hood he used it to hold the boy close and steered him to look back towards Ansel while the soldiers fanned out around them, stabbing and shooting the dying Grimm around them, peppering the few still able to fight until that fact changed. All along the smaller palisade wall rocks, bone spikes and plates and scattered, broken armor had been imbedded in the wood. In places, entire Grimm had smashed through the wood, leaving Beowolf sized chunks missing from the defensive architecture.

Holes that let him see beyond, where more of the same could be seen littered yards of dirt, stone and the fields. He only saw one or two men impaled on the shrapnel, but he knew more would have been, and that sent his fury rushing away like water down a drain.

"I-I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean to-" He blinked and turned, saber hissing closed as his stomach plummeted and his meal from earlier came rushing back up. He'd killed people, and not even intentionally… Not even for a reason, but instead because he'd been angry. Kneeling in the dirt, he stared at the ground, "I didn't mean to. I was just so… Angry."

"Is this what the Force does without training?" His father asked, kneeling and resting a hand on his son's back. Blue eyes met blue and Jaune nodded, the older man grumbling under his breath. "Damnit… Then you have to go somewhere to learn to fight. Somewhere equipped to deal with... " The man sighed and waved a hand at the destruction around them, "This kind of damage."

"I know." One of a thousand reasons to go to Beacon. .But, straightening, he ignored that entirely and asked instead, "Where's Saph? Is she okay? Is she… Safe?"

"Well, it seems that, in your anger, you… Probably saved her life." The man sighed, patting the young blonde on the back a couple of times and standing. Jaune rose with him and, jerking a thumber over his shoulder, the man grunted, "Let's go and check on her, eh? Get her to the clinic room so we can deal with our jobs. Later, we can go and spend some time with her. Alright?"

"Yeah." He nodded, Force calling the saber back to his hand so he could return it to his back. "I, uh, I think that's a good idea."

Three hours passed before the wounded had been helped, the immediate damages were dealt with, and the forest had been cleared of smaller clusters of Grimm coming in. Every fight between settlement militias and the Grimm, people would be hurt, property would be damaged and lives would be lost.

Which meant all manner of dark, negative emotions emanating out in the aftershocks of the battle, luring wayward Grimm in from further away than whatever had attracted them initially tended to. And besides that, he and his father had hoped to find the dead Hunter that was the partner of their wounded guest, to no avail.

All they found was a broken shoulder-guard and a third of an axe handle, the rest all missing, after which they turned for home.

"Saphron will be alright, Jaune." His father rumbled from ahead of them as they walked, greatsword resting across his shoulders and head swiveling as they walked. He shrugged and added, "Well, not alright, but she'll live. Losing limbs is… Not that rare, you know."

"I could have protected her if I was stronger." Should have, along with the rest of them. Instead he'd killed three of his own people, even if, admittedly, on accident. His father turned his head enough to meet his eye and he vowed solemnly, "I will get stronger, until so that doesn't happen anymore."

"Good. The goals you've set in life require that much, and while what happened to her isn't your fault, being stronger could prevent it in the future. And keep you from the mistakes you made..." The man rumbled, sighing after a second and speaking again in a lower voice, once he'd thought about what he'd said. "I'm sorry, Jaune, I'm… Not good at consoling people. I didn't mean it like that."

"I know, Father." The man was not the consoling type, more suited for fighting than coddling or caring, even if he was a loving father at heart. He remembered that being the case and, as the saying went, distance made the heart grow fonder. "I… I know it wasn't my fault, even if it doesn't make me feel better right now."

"I sense a 'but' there." His father pointed out, stopping in the overgrown path and turning to look at him. "I'm hoping for a good one, somewhere in there."

"I know that, when kids are growing up, their Semblances can be… Unstable." He heard stories all the time, and even saw it first hand from a couple of young Hunters that had been passing through. A young Faunus who could ignite things with his Aura, constantly setting things on fire accidentally and needing to be taken care of by his partner. "The Force is… I'm not a Master in it, so it's a similar thing. I lashed out, lost control, and… And people got hurt."

"And it wasn't your fault." His father agreed with a nod, watching him carefully. "You understand that?"

"Yeah, I do." It didn't make him feel better, not yet, but he knew it would. Quietly, the younger blonde chuckled at a memory before he saw his father's concerned look and sighed, "Instructor used to say that 'People get hurt and die in combat, always remember that. Your fault, their fault, whatever the case. Dwelling on it is wasteful, moving forward honors them, so the choice is easy'."

"That isn't all that funny…"

"He used to say it ahead of sparring training, when we talked about my future." Which meant bruises, cuts and worse, which had been hell at the time. Now? It was strange, the power of remembering something from the past. "I feel… Sick, when I think about what happened, but I'll get over it."

"Are you sure, Jaune?" His father asked, obvious concern in his voice and weathered face. "Because I'd understand if you weren't…"

"Yeah, I am." It would be a waste not to, after all. Being sad wouldn't bring them back to life, and it could end his life. He'd recover if only to work towards protecting Ansel, the thing they'd died to do. "It'll just take time, Dad. That's all. I'm good at accepting bad things and trying to get past them."

"I bet… Given the whole 'trapped under a mountain with a killer robot' thing." He nodded and turned, leading the blonde young warrior back to Ansel once again. "Come on… Your mother is going to kill me tomorrow."

Jaune snorted, because he knew his father was right.

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Saphron slept the rest of the day and night away, which Jaune found pretty understandable with everything she'd been through. The Huntress from before had activated her Aura and stopped the bleeding, so all that was left was for her Aura to heal her up, as little Aura as Saphron ended up having. Once they were certain Saphron would be okay, the Hunter had retired to their room to rest and grieve for their lost partner, and hadn't come out save to get food since.

Jaune didn't understand her feelings all that well, entirely due to not having a partner yet, but his father had ordered meals delivered and left them alone. Now, they were sitting outside, Terra across from them, looking exhausted, worried, but as much on the mend as Saphron herself was.

"She's tired, and sore, but she's okay enough, now." Saphron explained, sitting across the hall from them, beside the door into the room. She took a drink of her chilled water and screwed the cap on, pressing it against her head to ward off the oncoming headache. "Two more days, we would have hand Hunters here, and this wouldn't have happened…"

"Nothing we can do for it now but to live with it." His father grunted, as much to the young woman as to Jaune himself, he would wager if pushed to make a bet. Which, as bad as he felt about his being gone and 'causing' the situation, was a fair outreach for his father to make. "How is she… Dealing with it?"

"The arm's loss, you mean?" She glanced to the man and he shuffled awkwardly, so Jaune answered for him.

"Yeah, the… Arm thing." Finding a way to talk about this was already weird, even for him. "Is she, you know, okay?"

"About as well as can be hoped for, really." She sighed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. She pointed a finger at the two of them and scowled a bit before she added in a low, reproachful voice, "And don't talk about it like that. She's upset as hell, and that will only make it worse."

"Your mother will be here in a little over an hour, so… Yeah." His father pointed out quietly, waving a hand at the door in front of them. "You go on first, visit with her. I'll go second, since your mother might be here by then and she will want to visit her and rip me a new asshole."

"And you want to use me to distract the girls, while you use Saphron to hide from mom." He guessed, the man smiling sadly but roguishly nonetheless. Like a man caught in mischief, but irreparably sad regardless of the fun he was having. With a theatrical sigh to play to the game, Jaune stood and shrugged, "Fine, you big coward. I'll be your shield."

Though actually doing that was somewhat harder than he would admit. Even with all his power and the Force, he was still scared to see his sister laid up in a bed… Pathetic or just normal enough to be a good thing, he couldn't be sure which.

Both? Both were good.

He chose both.

"Hey, Jaune." His sister's tired voice reached him before he'd even shut the door, the exhausted looking woman laying against the wall opposite the door.

Her torso was bare under the sheet, he knew, and covered in bandages he could see even now around her shoulders. Several more wrapped around her free arm and a thick one around her head, injuries suffered after she'd fallen from the wall.

Still, she smiled when she saw him, and asked in a tired voice, "How, uh, how is everything? Is the forest clear?"

The only bed in the room was hers, at the moment, even though three could fit. And it had been set against the wall and turned, so her bandaged right shoulder laid close to the wall, the machine monitoring her vitals and the intravenous bag at the head of her bed, keeping their vigil and managing her pain throughout the nought and morning.

A curtain hung against the wall a little under ten feet to his right held the rest of the supplied the room would have, and he caught a glimpse of the metal frames and mattresses of the other two beds, stacked for storage. To his right, a floor to ceiling cabinet had been put in the corner, full of medicine, tools and everything else shut behind thick, heavy metal doors to protect what was inside should a Grimm get in somehow.

"It's fine, Father and I cleared the woods. The Grimm are gone, I could… Sense if they weren't, and if we missed any, we'll cut them down." There'd been a few small packs, but she didn't need to hear that. They'd been butchered easily enough by the duo.

Taking a seat beside her on the little, metal stool that had been left, his hand snapped out and stool hers, the woman squeezing the anxiety out of it reassuringly. The two sat like that for several minutes, the clock on the wall by the door ticking loudly and the machine beeping and whirring, the only sounds in the room while they sat together. The silence was, however, not an awkward one, even if the atmosphere choked with the sorrow of the battle and its losses.

"I can feel it, you know." He finally spoke, fifteen minutes into the silence, finally breaking it.

"Feel…?"

"The loss." He held up his right arm to make the point and she grimaced, sad blue eyes meeting exhausted ones meaningfully. "I felt it be severed, felt the shock. And now, I can feel your emotions, like a storm whirling around you for the sacrifice forced onto you by those… Monsters."

"I… You have a hell of a way with words, you know that?" He nodded but didn't speak, watching her with soft eyes and waiting. She knew it too, turning to scowl up at the ceiling and squeezing his hand hard enough his Aura flared to protect him. "It hurts like you wouldn't believe. I don't even have the damn arm, but it feels sore. Pins and needles, like my arm fell asleep."

"It's normal." Instructor had plenty of books on amputations, Sith warriors tended to need prosthetics often enough.

"I hate it! All I wanted to do was protect my town, and this is what I get!" She seethed, snapping at him and as quickly as the words left her mouth regretting it, turning to stare up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily. "I-I'm sorry, Jaune. I didn't mean to snap at you, I-I just… I don't know."

"'Passion can break thy chains as easily as forge them, shackling you to rage and sorrow'." He quoted, smiling apologetically when the woman gave him a confused look, mixed with the odd suspicion she was being insulted. "Revanite proverb. It means that when out emotions fly and run wild, we do and say things we wouldn't normally. Things that should be ignored by those who hear them."

"Ah…" She nodded and relaxed, shoulder slumping and head flopping against the pillow weakly. "I like it. Kinda like poetry."

"Much of my teachings were like that." Poetry, if rigid and self-righteous at times, but enjoyable and insightful regardless. If only for the passion flowing out of each word. "Another one, then. 'My body is my vessel, not my being. So take of it what you will, o' malicious night, but my being is mine and indomitable. And so you fall, each night in my dreams until the Force makes them reality'."

"What's that one mean?"

"That our bodies contain us but are not us." He said simply, giving her a small smile of warmth and reassurance. "And that so long as we believe in what we want, believe in its truth and possibility, we will attain that goal and wish."

"I like that one, too." She smiled, laying back in the bed and sighing. Blue eyes blinked open after a few moments and she promised, "I'll get over this, Jaune. You can count on that, it's my word. And an Arc-"

"Never breaks their word." He nodded, smiling sadly and nostalgically at the ancient philosophy. Squeezing her hand and pushing aside the blast of melancholy that had risen up so suddenly, he sighed and, with the breath, exhaled the tension the way he'd always been taught. "And I give you mine, that I will never be weak enough to allow this to happen again, Saphron."

"Jaune, it's not-"

"Regardless of fault, Sis." He cut her off, smiling confidently and standing, releasing her hand with one last squeeze of affection. Turning to the door, he murmured one last line for her, "An old Jedi song. 'Sing a song for reluctant heroes, who fight and fall against their wishes. I can see their faces, hear their voices, feel their losses. Sing for these, but not for me, for I stood and wished to'."

"What's that one mean?"

"I don't know." He confessed, letting out a sigh and adding, "Mother is here, coming up the stairs right now."

"How do you-" Saphron cut herself off with a wry chuckle, "Of course. The Force, you can feel people's presences and-"

"Saphron! My baby girl!" The door slammed open, his mother storming in with wide, green eyes set into a weathered, heavier face of a woman that had borne eight children. The woman's body matched that, thicker than her youth as a byproduct of her child-rearing, but that didn't mean she was slow by any means.

No, she cleared the room in under a second, Jaune dancing around her to evade the charging woman.

"Careful, sweetie!" His father called, joining her and running his hands through his hair while the middle-aged woman fretted over her daughter, frantically checking to make sure what was left of her had been treated well. "She's healing still, June. She doesn't have much Aura, so that isn't even speeding it up too well."

"Oh I know she's healing, I'm not so stupid or irate as to hurt her, you blonde oaf. I'm just checking that you and that Huntress bandaged her right, you have always been terrible at it." She snapped, running gentle hands over the bandages and lifting the blanket up in spite of Saphron's squeak of protest, checking the bandages there too while Nicholas coughed awkwardly and turned away. Seemingly satisfied she relented and turned to him, green eyes searching blue before something sparked in them and she blinked, collapsing almost to the ground, Nicholas' hands grabbing her shoulders and planting her on the stool instead, "J-Jaune?"

"Yeah." He nodded, smiling and standing a bit straighter in spite of his fatigue. "I'm back, Mom."

"But, how-"

"I was saved by a friend, and trained so I could get back from where we were trapped." He cut her off, smiling softly at her and bringing his hands together, fingers interlaced comfortably. "How about I catch you up over dinner? I'd love to see the girls, again. After the blood test, I guess-"

"The blood test can go right to hell, I recognize my baby boy." She was moving before he could blink, thick arms wrapping around him and crushing him in a mountainous hug. "And you can tell me all about your adventures while I cook dinner, young man. Then you're grounded for running off."

"Grounded?"

"For a year." His father added helpfully, smiling at him, "No running off. Just training, until you go to Beacon."

"What?!"

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"You're the young Mister Arc, I presume?" A woman asked, joining him in the gardens where he was meditating, two days of cuddles, stuffed faces and long discussions later when he finally found time for it. He cracked an eye to look up at the busty, blonde woman, standing rigid and firm outside the door into the manor's family side. "I wanted to speak to you, but felt I should wait until your family was… Satiated."

"They aren't, but go ahead and talk." He answered simply, sighing and focusing on the Force, enjoying the gentle feeling of basking in those waves of cool peace and warm passion. Like a tropical beach's ocean, tide gentle and strong. "I hope you don't mind if I keep meditating."

"Of course not." She shrugged, asking after a second, "I won't be a bother, I hope?"

"No. My Master taught me to meditate even in the midst of exercises and lectures." And made him absorb the knowledge as well, testing him after each session to see his progress. "A simple conversation won't be a bother to me."

"Your Master?"

"The one who saved me and trained me, so I could get back home on my own." He answered simply, lie coming to his mind and lips as smoothly as the truth, he'd practiced it so often. "Little trader out of Mistral, just a little boatman. He found me near a settlement, no one knew who I was or how I got there, so he took me in. Said he thought I was a Grimm Orphan."

"Where did you meet him?" She asked gently, taking a seat on the stoop and, he had no doubt, committing everything he said to memory.

"Tiny fishing village he'd stopped in at a few days to the south." He answered simply, knowing that the coast was covered in little clusters of houses that survived off fishing and running on their boats if the Grimm came. "He doesn't come to the continent much, so when I recovered over on Anima with him, he had no way to get me back home. And no proof of who I was to get in contact with anyone."

"So he trained you?"

"Yes." He answered simply, "He was a retired Hunter, apparently, though he wouldn't tell me about it. Taught me what he knew about fighting, handed me his weapon," he lifted the Saber with the Force as he spoke, "and unlocked my Aura. So I could get home on my own."

"What was his name?" She asked quietly, smiling when his eyes cracked to look at her and offering a small smile. "I am only curious, Mister Arc. If you wish not to tell me, I won't pry into your affairs."

"... Arkanius Crimson." He said quietly, using the Lord whose records and books he'd learned from and whose weapon he carried, and then adding the color of his saber to it to get the name. Sprinkles of truth made for an easier sold lie, Instructor had always told him. "He died before I left, though. Told me not to waste it, the training and him saving me."

"And that is why you wish to become a Huntsman?" He nodded and she returned the gesture, turning her gaze to the settlement and clicking her tongue. "Well, your Semblance is certainly powerful enough, and you, from what I was told, are skilled enough. Not to mention the Headmaster's offer to your father…"

"Very well." She finally nodded with a small, standing and brushing off her skirt with a hand. With her other, she reached into a pocket and held a collapsed Scroll out to him. "This will alert you to whatever you need, and give you access to study materials and tutoring to keep you on par with your class mates."

"Ah." He rose, using the Force to lift himself to his feet, and accepted the little thing. With a respectful nod, he added, "Thank you, Headmistress."

"You're most welcome, and welcome to Beacon Academy." She reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder, green eyes meeting confused blue ones for a moment and then softening. "I'm sorry your… Master passed away, and sorry for everything that happened here until now. Rest assured, I will personally ensure that Ansel is protected from now on. You need to focus on your training."

"I will." He had promises to keep, after all. Smiling dopily he shrugged and added in a jovial, joking manner, "What kind of Hero doesn't get stronger?"

XxX----XxX----XxX

"I saw the damage he dealt, Ozpin." Glynda answered simply over the call, sitting on the edge of the room she'd been given after a long day of work, organizing the sentry drones and officers Beacon had loaned Ansel. "A crater twenty feet wide, Grimm plating crushed, and the Guard report he was devastating in the fight."

"The Arc household is an excellent source of quality Hunters, yes. Throughout history, the name Arc has carried quite a lot of weight and influence. It will be put to good use, here." Ozpin agreed quietly, sounding pleased and tired in equal measure on the other end of the line. "How is his mental health, with everything that has happened?"

"Seemingly stable, Headmaster." She answered, "He's upset over his sister, even if he doesn't dwell on it. And his ordeal previous seems not to have broken him in any way I could discern."

"Good. It would have been a shame to have to wait for another Arc in the future to meet my expectations." And would have taken decades, she knew without asking. Decades she didn't like the idea of whiling away, simply waiting for a better asset to come along in her old age, when she'd be near retirement. "How have the defensive measures gone over?"

"Very well, Sir." The drones would make all the difference in the world alone, and the security would bring Hunters and travelers back, eventually. And traders, of course. All of which would reignite the fire of Ansel. "The settlement should recover without your more drastic measures, I believe."

"Good, good." The man sighed, static crackling over the Scroll-Link, and he asked, "When are you leaving to lock down Miss Nikos for us?"

"Two days, Sir."

"Good, good. She's a skilled, honorable fighter. She'll make an excellent eventual addition to our little club." And an excellent replacement for her, eventually, Glynda knew. She tried not to let that part bother her, as best she could manage it. "I assume you are getting ready for rest, Glynda?"

"Yes." She answered, sharper than she meant to and grimacing at that fact, rushing to cover for herself, "I have had a long day, Headmaster, and have another ahead of me as well, clearing the banditry out for Ansel."

"You will be safe, I hope." Even as ancient as he was, he still cared, and that was sad to the woman in a way.

"Of course." She nodded, even though he couldn't see her over the call. "Nicholas will be accompanying me as well, so I have little doubt it will go well. Especially with the support of the security forces I bright, and Ansel's Guard."

"I won't keep you up any longer, then." He answered quietly, followed by a gentle, "Good night, Headmistress."

Collapsing her Scroll she laid back, staring up at the ceiling for a moment and, finally, sighing, "Oh for the days where things were simpler… I miss just needing to go on Hunts and grade papers."

Simpler times…

"Oh well," she shrugged, rolling over to get her sleep while she could. Before her eyes closed, she thought of one last thing, "One day, I pray, this all comes to something better."