5 Chapter 5: The Wounded Dragon, Part 1

She was in the Jungle. That was all there was, and everything was as it had been, yesterday and always. The people milled about, playing their little games, and she walked among them. She was content -

- until she heard a horrid screech. She looked up, and there in the high branches of the Jungle of Vines was a great bird, terrible and black with eyes like burning blood, and as big as an elder Nevermore...but it wasn't a Nevermore. She knew this because this bird was selfish and conceited, and the Grimm do not feel those things...how she knew this about the bird, she did not know, but there was no doubt that it was very dangerous.

The bird went wherever it pleased throughout the Jungle, and it did and took whatever it desired. Suddenly, the bird screeched and dove at her to snatch her away. She couldn't move, and was terribly afraid - but then, she heard a snarl. To her side came a golden dragon, young and furious and coiling restlessly. The dragon roared at the bird, who screeched again and flapped away to a nearby perch. She looked at the dragon and saw that it had been wounded in many places, and she was filled with sadness for it. The bird perched on a high branch and spoke loudly:

"FLEE, COWER, HIDE, ALL! ABANDON HOPE, FOR THE DAY IS COMING WHEN THE WORLD WILL WITHER AND BURN AWAY!"

After it spoke, the bird flew out of sight, leaving her alone with the dragon. While she was thinking about the bird's words, a mighty Wind blew her and the dragon away, outside the Jungle. They saw that the bird had spoken true: the Jungle was being swallowed by a shadow that rolled across the land and sky like a great black parchment scroll. She was faint with fear and clung to her friend the dragon for dear life. The dragon flew away from the shadow, but it was gaining on them, and she knew that this was the End -

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" - NO!"

Weiss scrambled to her hands and knees, feverishly looking around for signs of the great Shadow from her nightmares. There were none, but that did little to alleviate her fears as she realized her predicament. She was in a cage, covered by a crude tarp. Weiss instinctively reached for Myrtenaster, but the blade was nowhere to be found.

Damn, she thought, though she realized she should have expected as much; it would take an abysmally stupid kidnapper to leave a prisoner with their weapon. However, even without Myrtenaster, Weiss was still far from defenseless. She knew that with a bit of summoning, she would be out of the cage in seconds - but she also knew that such rashness could very well lead to disaster. She remembered her training for situations like this; the first step was to observe, starting with sight. There was not much that could be seen beyond the tarp, but Weiss could at least tell that it was nighttime. That was good; most of her captors were likely asleep, making a potential escape easier. She then listened out for footsteps and voices. To her dismay, she heard both, and they were definitely coming her way. With that ascertained, Weiss settled down onto her knees and allowed herself into a physically and mentally relaxed state, waiting for whoever it was to arrive or pass by.

Weiss began to pick up the more minute sensations around her as her adrenaline died down. She felt the wet grime of dirt on her hands, and rubbed them together to rid herself of the unpleasant feeling. Her pulse thudded heavily - almost painfully - in her temples as it slowed. As she felt around her forehead for the bruise she suspected was there, she noticed something: her hair was down, spilling over her lap and the ground like a dirty, white waterfall. Weiss's hand immediately went to the back of her head where her ornate hairpin normally was...and it was gone. Of course.

She knew she had to do something about this; having her long hair fly all over the place would be extremely detrimental to her fighting style. She tore a long strip from the hem of her travel dress, and set about pulling her hair back to tie it up. It was while she was doing this that a flap in the tarp was thrown to the side, revealing two of her captors standing before her.

The first captor was a young woman in her mid-twenties, with short brown hair. She wore maroon pants, thick travelling boots, and a brown vest over a white shirt with its sleeves torn off. Carried behind her on a mag-lock belt were a pair of large, circular bladed weapons. Most infuriatingly, she held Myrtenaster in her right hand, twirling it about nonchalantly. That, combined with the picture of mild disdain gracing her facial features, all but guaranteed that Weiss would not be getting along with this woman at all.

The second captor, a man, stood a head taller than his comrade and looked to be in his early thirties. He wore an assortment of military gear over ragged workman's wear, a tattered black half-cape, and a dark green bandanna around his mouth and neck. A crossbow was slung on his back, and on his belt rested a case of bolts and a sheathed katana. Weiss couldn't make out the man's disposition past his seemingly perpetual glower and thick, ratty hair, nor was she any less unnerved to see that a steel patch seemed to have been bolted into the left side of his forehead.

"Well. Look's like our little Sleeping Beauty's finally awake," the woman spoke. For some reason, Weiss felt vaguely offended by that remark. And extremely so by the stench wafting in from the two filthy ruffians.

"I demand to know who you are and why you have kidnapped me!" she said with all the authority she could muster. Apparently, it wasn't very much, as the two thugs shared an amused look.

"Who we are, and why we have you here...doesn't matter," the woman said in a mockingly soothing tone as she knelt down to Weiss's level. "All you need to know is that it's in your best interest right now to stay quiet and - "

"We're a tribe of bandits, and we kidnapped you so we could ransom you back to your father," the man half-rasped, half-growled. The woman stood up to glare at him, clearly irritated.

"Zarik!"

"What? She asked nicely," he said dryly. "Besides, she's not going anywhere. We're getting rich off her daddy whether she knows what's up or not."

This relatively sound rationale didn't seem to make the woman any less upset, but she shrugged it off and turned back to Weiss, her voice abruptly hardening.

"Anyway. Don't think we don't know about your little Semblance, Schnee. Try anything funny, and we might just reconsider how much it's worth keeping you around."

"In one piece," the man called Zarik added as he drummed his fingers on the hilt of his blade. Weiss's eyes narrowed defiantly.

"You might want to reconsider imprisoning me in the first place. My sister is an Atlesian Special Operative, currently deployed here in Mistral. If she were to catch wind of this, you'd have the Atlas military to deal with." She looked past the two bandits at the campsite around them, as if assessing the tribe's relative power, before donning a smug smile. "I think we all know who'd lose that fight."

Zarik snorted, and the woman's grin returned.

"Oh, we certainly do," she responded, matching Weiss's confidence. "But here's the thing, kid: Atlas just pulled all their forces out of Anima, in case you've had your head in the dirt. If your big sister ever was here, she's long gone now."

"Damn shame, too," said Zarik, drawing another glare from his counterpart. "I owe Winter Schnee one hell of an ass-slapping."

The woman started saying something to him, but Weiss was too busy with the sudden pit in her stomach to listen to their conversation. If Winter wasn't coming to rescue her - no, that couldn't be right! Surely, these bandits were lying...? She thought back to the conversation between her father and General Ironwood that she had overheard immediately before she left. Ironwood had said something about an imminent lockdown on the kingdom's borders...if that had gone into effect, there certainly would be a recall of Atlesian military personnel. Perhaps it was true, then.

She was on her own now.

Weiss snapped back to attention as she heard an angry spike in the woman's voice:

"I've had enough with your antics. If you cross me like this again - "

"What? You gonna kill me for ruining your little power trips?" Zarik retorted. The woman's hands now rested on her weapons, which he seemed unfazed by as he lowered his voice to a gravelly whisper. "You know what'll happen if you try any of that. I've seen you fight. But if you don't wanna believe me on that, then get this into your head: you're not as indispensable as you'd like to think. So if I were you, I'd cut the shit before Raven cuts you in half."

Weiss couldn't tell if the woman's face was flushed with anger or simply reflecting the red-orange light shed from the torches around the camp; in any case, no response came. Whispering could be heard some meters away; the woman turned around and barked, "Get back to your tents!", and the scampering of feet could be heard. It was then that Weiss began to grasp the situation at hand: these were signs of a power struggle between lieutenants. Clearly, the Zarik thug was trying to undercut whatever authority the woman had - or thought she had - and Weiss could infer that they both fought for the favor of whoever this Raven person was, likely the leader of the tribe. Now, if only Weiss could use this conflict to her advantage...

"Alright...what were we doing again?" said Zarik, tapping the steel patch on his forehead.

"Checking on the prisoner," said the woman. "But now that we're done - "

"Actually," Weiss piped up. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation, and it seems to me that one 'Raven' is in charge of this whole...operation. Is that correct?"

"Yeah. Why?" said Zarik.

"I'd very much like to parlay with her. Some one of my standing should at least be given this courtesy. Besides, we may be able to negotiate something more beneficial to all parties involved."

The woman raised an eyebrow.

"For a girl in a cage, you're getting very uppity. If you've been listening at all, you'd know I don't tolerate that sort of thing - not even from a Schnee."

Her gaze swept threateningly to the side, and then back to Weiss.

"My people can get very frustrated at times, you know. Now typically, we refrain from robbing our prey of their dignity...but should you frustrate me enough, I may just forget to hold my underlings' desires in check."

"You wouldn't dare!" said Weiss, anger and panic swelling in her chest - and then she saw a third figure approaching unnoticed from behind the other two.

"You're one to talk to me about daring, girl - "

"Vernal."

The two bandits spun about and snapped to attention. Weiss recognized the newcomer's voice: she was the red woman who found her after she fell from the airship. The woman's hand rested casually on the hilt of a blade in some sort of Dust-sheath. Despite the potential danger, Weiss could hardly help but be happy: she now knew the most unlikable woman's name to be Vernal (a suitably ugly name in her opinion), and she knew the red woman could only be -

"Raven!" Vernal cried. "I - "

"Was only bluffing?" Raven finished for her. "I certainly hope so. You know the rules, Vernal."

"Oh, she was definitely not bluffing," Zarik muttered with little discreetness. Raven preemptively raised her hand in front of Vernal.

"Zarik, you will speak when prompted," she said. "Do not think that I am deaf to your petty squabbles, nor that I will tolerate them. There will be punishment on both ends if they continue...punishment you will not forget. You both have important roles to play in the survival of our tribe, but even you can be disposed of should I find your ability to fulfill your duties is in any way compromised."

The two bandits stared demurely at the ground until Raven dismissed Vernal back to her tent. Weiss was debating whether to address this very dangerous woman when she turned to Zarik.

"Why does our prisoner not have a bucket?"

Weiss's train of thought ground to a halt. A bucket...oh, brother.

Zarik stared blankly for a second before speaking: "Oh, yeah, a bucket...forgot about that..."

He went around a corner and returned holding a tin pail by the handle. Weiss instinctively shrunk back as he unlocked the cage door and swung it open with an abominable screech.

"Catch," said Zarik, tossing the bucket her way. She had to duck to avoid the rather large missile, which clattered against the bars on the other side. The bandit laughed as he slammed the door shut and pulled the tarp back down. She heard the two walking away, and was once more alone with her thoughts...

...and a bucket.

Above all, Weiss was not happy.

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It was a dull, rainy day in the city of Mistral, which meant that the earthen streets on the lower levels would soon either be riddled with meter-wide puddles, or simply turned to sludge. Thankfully for the foot traffic taking Braunt's Passage, the former was the case, as getting a little wet was far preferable to getting stuck and losing a boot. Despite the gray skies, most of those who braved the rain still wore the colorful garments Mistral was famous for. It was for this reason that Leonardo Lionheart inwardly lamented having only a drab, gray cloak on hand for clothing that wouldn't immediately reveal his identity and station. In attempting to conceal himself, he had ended up looking rather out of place - almost suspiciously so. Oh, well...at least he was mostly protected from the rain.

Lionheart walked the streets slowly, but with purpose; to his relief, no one seemed to be giving him any odd looks. At last, he reached his destination: a dilapidated, old cafe with its windows smudged into an opaque oblivion - almost too opaque for the dim light inside to shine through them at all. On one of the windowsills sat a lopsided wooden sign with the words "NO FAUNUS" written in now-chipping white paint.

They put it up again! he thought with a chuckle, almost glad to have his little ritual waiting for him to complete. Without breaking stride, he pulled the sign down from its perch and let it fall into a puddle with a splat. This had been going on the past few times he had ventured down to the shoddy place, and the owners didn't seem to have any idea who had been knocking down their sign; they had certainly never suspected that he himself was a Faunus.

Lionheart walked inside, which smelled surprisingly pleasant - like coffee. The shop was good for something, at least. He scanned the room under his hood, looking for his contact...there. A tall, thin figure leaned against the right-hand corner or the cafe with a cup in hand, mostly concealed in a brown coat and hood. The two made eye contact for a brief moment before Lionheart passed by, heading towards the door on the opposite end of the building. This door in particular lead to the cafe's restrooms and the general maintenance facilities supporting the entire block. It was these facilities that Lionheart was aiming for, as they seldom saw any visitors; city bureaucracy had always had an unfortunate effect upon the upkeep of public services.

He exited through a second set of doors, shuffling his way through the tight maze of machinery until he found a metal trap door at the end of the corridor, and made his way down the ladder. Here was the more subterranean area, the ceiling mostly comprised of pipes of varying sizes alongside aging light fixtures that provided flickering, orange illumination. After a few minutes of walking along the earthen passage, the headmaster arrived at a large intrusion of granite in the wall that marked where the base of the mountain met with the underground network. Somewhere near the middle lay a crack in that stone large enough for a man to pass through, which Lionheart did. Soon enough, darkness enclosed him, and though his Lion-Faunus heritage meant that his sight was not entirely impaired, it was hard to make out detailed shapes with so little light. At last, he arrived at a small cavern, no more than fifteen feet in any dimension, whose center was occupied by a strange, indiscernible figure. Knowing exactly what he was looking at, Lionheart pulled back his hood and spoke:

"Awaken, foul creature, and contact your master. It is I, Leonardo Lionheart."

A foreboding, dull-red light filled the cavern as the Seer Grimm emerged from its dormancy. The black, soulless sphere dominating what one might think to be a head swirled with color as it began to fulfill its purpose. Lionheart gazed into that sphere with bitter apprehension. The things I have to do - have had to do! - to save Remnant, his train of thought began; it was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming his way. He turned to see none other than Dr. Arthur Watts entering the cavern, and he felt his face instinctively reflect the sour taste in his mouth.

"You know, Leo," said Watts as he removed his night vision glasses, "you could have at least left the trapdoor open for me. So inconsiderate..."

"I like to take precautions," was all Lionheart said in response.

"Oh, come now, Leo...don't you trust me?"

For five long seconds, Lionheart looked Watts in the eye with all the disdain and condescension of a hundred Atlesian Special Operatives.

"No."

Watts chuckled and seemed ready to retort, but just then the swirling colors of the Seer's sphere dissipated; in their place, a pair of eyes like portals straight down to the Abyss stared out from a face as pale as death.

"Leo," said Salem, her expression difficult to read as usual. "I presume you've contacted me for something important."

"I have. Qrow Branwen is here at Haven with several students from Beacon Academy - "

"Qrow?" Salem interrupted him, her eyes narrowing. "So he is alive?"

"Uh, yes, Your Grace...should he not be - ?"

"No matter," she cut him off again. "It is not your concern...though it seems I will have to have a word with Tyrian after this. Tell me, though: is the silver-eyed girl among the students?"

Lionheart paused, fearing what Salem might have planned for Ruby, before answering:

"That's not why I contacted yo- "

"Answer my question, Leo."

"...Yes, Your Grace, she is - " He saw what looked to be predatory satisfaction in those black eyes, and made quick to change the subject. " - but something far more important has happened! They have Ozpin with them. He has reincarnated, and is with them at Haven even now!"

Lionheart felt the tension give way inside him as he saw Salem's interest divert as he had hoped.

"Well, then. They've certainly saved us the trouble of searching for him. It seems our priorities have shifted."

"Indeed," said Lionheart, building momentum as he continued. "I suggest that we capture him as soon as we can, and keep him at your stronghold until the Relic of Choice is found. Once we obtain it, we can finally - "

"Ah, Leo?" Watts interrupted. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Oh, so there's more to this?" Salem asked, raising an eyebrow. "Indulge me, gentlemen...if you please."

"The pleasure would be mine," said Watts, and Lionheart cursed inwardly. That damnable pseudo-scientist! What I'd give to shut him up for good...

"What Leo here neglected to mention is that we now know the location of the Spring Maiden. She is, of all places, with Raven Branwen's tribe of bandits. It seems they've been making a real killing off of her abilities...if you'll mind the pun."

Appearing satisfied, Salem's gaze turned to Lionheart.

"Is this true, Leo?"

"...Yes, it is. I merely did not think it important enough to relay."

Salem did not appear convinced of this lie in the slightest.

"I see."

"Anyhow," Watts went on, "what with this new information, I propose an alternative plan: send a delegation to Raven and partition for her support. If she helps us retrieve the Relic of Knowledge from Haven, we will have everything we need."

"That's assuming Raven is willing to help us," Lionheart was quick to respond. "This I seriously doubt. She's spent the better of two decades making a point to remain neutral in this conflict. At this point, I doubt anything will change her mind."

"Is that so, Leo?" Salem asked. "I seem to recall you describing Raven as...what was it you had said? 'Little more than an intelligent animal, for she now pursues only the basest of urges'...among which fear is perhaps the most potent. By your own words, then, fear applied properly would go a long way in motivating Raven to work for our benefit. Am I making any sense to you, Leo?"

"Well, ah...yes, I see your point, Your Grace...but I don't believe that Arthur's plan is the most prudent course of action - "

"Yes, Leo. You certainly do see my point. In fact, you saw it before I made it, because I know you're too smart to not have. You knew already that Raven might be swayed to our cause, and hoped that I wouldn't notice the flaw in your argument. Unfortunately, you seem to have forgotten just who you are trying to fool: me. I have borne witness to the passing of ten thousand generations; I was present when the foundations of this world were first laid; I have consorted with powers whose presence alone would shatter your very being! Don't think that you can play dumb with me, Leo...don't make the mistake of thinking that I can't see right through you. I know you are trying desperately to keep your precious Haven Academy out of harm's way - you so desperately want to keep the blood on your hands to a minimum. So then, Leo, you will now answer my question. Considering everything you have sacrificed to complete your mission - all the death you have caused, all the lies you have told, all the oaths you have broken - would you now back down, knowing that you will then have sullied yourself so...and all for naught? Think about it."

Lionheart knew that she did not mean he was at liberty to ponder this for long, and was prompt to give his dejected answer.

"No...no, I will not back down. I cannot. Too much has been sacrificed."

Salem's smile changed from as one at the precipice of victory to as one having now achieved it.

"Then all is well and good. With Raven's support - for I do not doubt that she will join us - we will converge on Haven and take both Ozpin and the Relic. With the power of two maidens on our side, resistance should be minimal...though it would not go unappreciated if Leo were to minimize that even further."

"Believe me, Your Grace, I will do my utmost in that regard," said Lionheart, and he meant it.

"Watts," Salem continued, "seeing as it was your idea, I task you with heading the delegation to the Branwen tribe. I will, of course, send Cinder and her entourage to accompany you in case things do not go as planned."

"As you wish, Your Grace."

"And Leo. Remember well that I am only helping you because you are helping me. So, should I find your usefulness insufficient to my liking, you and Hazel may then return to considering me the enemy. Take this as your final warning: the fulfillment of my designs comes before all else. You are not to sabotage them in any way, no matter your personal feelings surrounding them. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Your Grace. I understand."

Nothing further came from the Seer; both Salem's image and the ambient red light faded from the creature, returning the cavern to near-total darkness. Lionheart made for the exit when, to his utmost chagrin, Watts broke the silence.

"I have to say, watching her ream you out was the most enjoyable experience I've had all week."

There was a brief pause as Lionheart stopped to turn slightly towards the good doctor.

"You know, Arthur, I could just kill you here and pretend it was Qrow or one of SHDW. I think Salem might actually believe it."

And with that, he continued down walking the exit, with Watts's derisive scoff echoing behind him.

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The quiet of the northern Anima forest was violently disrupted by the buzzing roar of a motorcycle tearing down the dirt path, little more than a flash of black and gold to any who might have seen it go by.

Night had begun to fall when the bike reached a fork in the path, marked by a weathered, wooden post bearing multiple signs. On the one indicating the leftmost path leading down into a wooded valley, the word "BANDITS" had been crudely scribbled over the sign's original inscription of "KUROYIRI".

The motorcyclist exhaled through her closed-face helmet and re-gripped the right handlebar with metal fingers. Revving the engine, she sped towards the valley and into the darkness.