Mistral

Leonard Lionheart always holds a position that is 'somewhere in the middle'.

Somewhere in the crowd of officials, somewhere in the middle of the achievement list, somewhere in third position in the phone book. Not bad, not great, but exactly what people called 'average'.

Leonardo Lionheart was the most 'ordinary' of all humans and faunus you can imagine. The same 'Hunter' from the general list of all possible and existing Hunters that ordinary people imagine. With slightly obscure features, 'some' kind of weaponry and 'some' missions on his belt.

Leonardo Lionheart presented himself as the most ordinary Hunter that could ever come out of Haven. A Hunter License proudly proclaiming that four years of studies, and years of prep school, had not been in vain. He upheld his certificate like a badge, or like a ticket to a bright future full of expensive wines, beautiful women and mind-blowing adventures.

Excluding the fact that, Leonardo Lionheart was always painfully aware that he was an 'ordinary' hunter.

The reason Hunters were trained in a batch of a dozen, two or, if they were lucky, three dozen a year in Haven was that there were very few prospective Hunters in the first place. There was only a small percentage of people who were capable of shooting huge monsters with their electric torch swords while twirling acrobatic pirouettes, not forgetting to flash their white-tipped smiles at the same time.

The ivory tower of society that is already more than the ordinary human of Faunus. Hunters are powerful warriors and powerful modern-day miracle-workers, darlings of the public, men, and women alike.

When you don't just think you're stronger than everyone around you, when you really are the strongest man in hundreds of thousands. When you possess the ability to single-handedly take over a small settlement, and when you're promised a hundred thousand lien rewards for a week or two of work. It's not hard to start losing touch with reality.

To look away from the harsh, dangerous work into the beautiful dreams of your third mansion and fifth yacht waiting for you on a private island dock.

But the problem with reality is that it is heartless to the dreams of the young and naive. One mistake, and instead of dreams of yachts, come dreams of the time when the number of your limbs was the same as the one you had at birth.

Sometimes, after a mistake, Hunters didn't dream of anything at all.

That's right, Hunters Academies trained their wards desperately, but some things cannot be learned within the confines of textbooks, lecture hours or even practical training. Half of the graduating teams of Hunters did not survive their first year, and another half of the remainder did not survive the first five years.

Those who survived the five years on the job were the Hunters that ordinary people imagined. Supporting the charming smile or even a serious frown, an existence straight out of the scary and beautiful stories, carrying the scars, and charm of veterans of terrible battles.

Those are the Hunters who lived up to it and became models for magazines, TV show stars and other prominent members of society, enticing young lads into their profession, posing for posters around.

Most of the Hunters, on the other hand, simply didn't live to see the other side of the heroic life of the 'super-humans', they had burned out in their early years. And never wanting anything more to do with either Hunters, Grimm, or even other humans.

There lies the crux of the problem. Freshly graduating Hunters rarely think of the worst, and far more likely, outcome, guided as they are by the gilded posters and the years of training they'd lived through. And as harsh as training at the Academy was, some things couldn't be prepared for at all.

And Leonardo Lionheart knew that fact perfectly well, just how dangerous life as a Hunter is.

Unlike all the other trainees around him, Leonardo knew that there were two sides to every coin. Being the most 'average' of all, Leonardo always tried to assess his prospects, always tried to gather information, check his chances, and if the situation led to an unfavorable outcome, Leonardo did not consider it shameful to retreat. Time to think over the situation again, to change the plan, and if the situation was not in his favor, to save time for himself and his opponent. To give up and switch to another problem, where Leonardo did not meet such fierce resistance and was much more confident in his chances of victory.

So Leonardo never really fit in with the Hunter community, or even, to put it bluntly, with his team. No, of course he tried, and not to say that he was in perpetual confrontation with his teammates, it was just that some people were not meant to continue socializing on their own accord. And so, when his training at Haven was over, Leonardo Lionheart bid a hearty farewell to his former team and made the right decision for himself.

Not to try to prove himself, who already knew everything about himself. Or to the world around him, who did not care that he was stronger than he thought, and chose, as his profession, the least dangerous of the activities available to a Hunter.

Leonardo became a teacher.

As it happens, most Hunter teams broke up after a certain period of time. Four different people with their own aspirations, plans, and dreams could not spend all their working and free time together without the force of staying in one place all the time. Some went into other professions, some started families, and some simply died, the lifespan of a typical Hunter team outside the academy was very rarely more than five years.

Some teams even broke up as soon as they left the academy, such as Leonardo's team.

His former teammates went off to conquer the savage hordes of Grimm, and probably soon died for it, while Leonardo opted for a teaching position in Haven. Sure, his salary was far less than that the usual Hunters make, but still more than a livable wage, and might even be somewhat generous. After all, the importance of his work was too great and there were too few specialists who could take his place, supply, and demand.

At first, Leonardo was an assistant and lab technician, responsible for catching small Grimm for practical lessons and checking students' tests. He was then appointed to teach a short six-month course in field medicine and first aid. He then became a full-time teacher at Haven, taking subjects such as biology, field medicine and nature survival. Any subject that minimize his contact with Grimm, therefore lessening his chance of dying on the field.

And then, as an unassuming but executive and not aspiring to more, uninterested in Haven's petty squabbles and cabinet intrigues figure. Someone that is unconnected to any of Mistral's influential patrons and families, Leonardo attracted the attention of the academy headmaster, who chose Leonardo as a deputy.

After all, who better to be your second-in-command than someone that is unambitious and wouldn't be a threat to your position?

And Leonardo wanted his pay rise, he liked to get more, he liked to be more than just a teacher, he liked to be someone somewhat higher up, and so he agreed. After all, why would the deputy headmaster ever be in danger?

He really wished that he could turn back time and refused the promotion – his life would have been a lot easier, then and now.

First he was noticed as a young upstart by the other teachers, then the families behind them, who had nothing more to do with their free time – and of course, worst of all, Ozpin.

Leonardo knew even the moment he received the invitation to talk in the headmaster's office that he was getting into something extremely foul-smelling. When he saw his Headmaster and Headmaster of Vale, the youngest Headmaster in Remnant history, in the past, now that title belonged to King Osmond, in his office, he knew she should've just ran out of the room. And when he was asked about his favorite fairy tale, it was at that moment that Leonardo realized that he, trying never to get into anything too dangerous in his life, had gotten into it up to his ears.

But what he had done could not be undone. And so, he nodded his head cautiously, answering Ozpin's question in the affirmative, about whether he wished to know something more about the world he inhabited.

Leonardo thought that if he knew more about the dangers surrounding him, he could prepare himself for their imminent blow.

Leonardo had reasoned very poorly – and so found himself in his current position. Headmaster of Haven Academy, confidant, formerly of Ozpin's, and current traitor, twice. From Ozpin to Salem, from Salem to Jonathan.

And now, there was no escape for Lionheart.

One wrong decision in life was all that brought Lionheart to his current situation. A Faunus, always trying to be 'among the others' found himself on the cutting edge of a battle between two ancient powerful opponents.

All he could do is to try his best not to die. All sentient beings didn't want to die, did they? So it was only natural that Lionheart didn't want to do that as well. He tried to always blend in the crowd, showing as little of himself as possible, in battle or in management, and just doing his job day by day with the minimum amount of effort, earning his bread.

But, of course, with his position now, Lionheart couldn't keep out of the limelight for too long, the worst fate, barring death, possible for him.

A day, a week, a month, a year, and even ten years later, Lionheart had finally put thoughts of Ozpin and Salem's creepy secret wars out of his mind. And then, on one regular work day, he suddenly found a letter on his desk from an unknown but more than knowledgeable outsider.

Just a letter, inside a normal looking envelope, whose contents, with no half hints or subtle verbal politeness, sealed Lionheart's fate. There was nothing threatening inside, Lionheart would've even preferred it, instead, the letter contained a complete list of Lionheart's personal possessions, his routine, the names of his favorite establishments and the women with whom the academy headmaster spent occasional evenings. His friends and acquaintances, their families and even their daily, weekly and annual routines.

And, for the mentally challenged, the voluminous list, written in fine handwriting, was signed at the end with a list of actions required of Lionheart. Along with a clear indication of the kind of punishment, Lionheart would receive from the unknown writer of the letter if he failed to comply with the list of instructions issued to him, tried to attract attention. And, of course, if he tried to turn to Ozpin.

The biggest problem with blackmail is that it is a very effective tool, especially when the blackmailed has no way of identifying who exactly is blackmailing him. Ordinary people and faunus easily succumb to such pressure.

And Leonardo Lionheart was, after all, the most 'ordinary' Hunter imaginable.

He also did not want to die, as all people do, and, to be honest, it was not that he was inherently a bad person. He did not want other people to die because of his actions, his lovers, his friends, his teammates, or his students.

Leonardo's biggest weakness, however, was that, seeing an insurmountable obstacle in front of him, Leonardo acted in a more self-interested manner than many. Instead of trying to pierce the obstacle in front of him with his head – he backed off and looked for another, more appropriate and easier way to achieve his goals.

In other words, Leonardo folded immediately, and with that entered Salem's service on the same day, a distant ten years ago, even if he didn't know who he was working for at first.

Besides, he was not asked to do anything too dangerous, important or even tedious was required of him. Information on the training results of Hunter-in-training? It wasn't even that classified of an information, Leonardo sent final grades to students' homes to their parents every semester, and it's unlikely that all the parents practice operational secrecy and destroyed them afterward. He already provided personnel files when necessary to the auditing companies and the state, and from there this information went through third parties to the black market. So was he actually doing anything bad if the information was out there already?

Advice to the Council on the allocation of new missions to Hunters, the distribution of the budget, the direction of training for new generations? It was just advice, he was not the one to make the decisions, he simply raised certain issues for the Council to discuss. If his suggestions were excessive, no one would listen to him, and if someone missed a bad suggestion? It only showed that the other Councillors were incompetent!

Leonardo was simply doing what all normal people in the world do, trying to survive and live his life peacefully, well and without problems.

And he certainly wasn't a traitor to Humanity! So, as soon as he had the opportunity to get out of Salem's shadow, he took it! That is, of course, he did not rush forward headlong, but carefully assessed his prospects and made the right move for him.

Ozpin, after all, would not have understood Leonardo's actions, and frankly, Leonardo doubted that Ozpin would be able to protect him in case of trouble. Ozpin had already failed to protect him from one instance of blackmail by Salem, so Leonardo needed another reliable patron he could rely on.

And King Osmond the Third, Jonathan Goodman, turned out to be just the man he has been waiting for all these years.

A new wizard, a powerful politician, a cunning strategist who had demonstrated his willingness to go all the way with a burgeoning influence around the world by overturning Atlas in one night. And that was just the beginning.

Of course, Leonardo chose to replace his patron with someone who had shown himself to be clearly the most capable and influential of all. This was perfectly ordinary and normal, for all the sane inhabitants of Remnant.

And Jonathan had responded to his offer of service, not for free, of course. But if you're born in Mistral, you become accustomed to trading resources of all sorts. Mistral trades everything, – food, dust, weapons, services, lives, faunus.

It's just the sad truth of life. In Mistral, everything is for sale and everyone is for sale. If you know how and who to pay, tomorrow you will receive your diploma, your bully will be taken away in the middle of the night, and for the right price, you might even find yourself in the Councillor's chair.

On at least one occasion, a Mistral councillor has been removed from his post on this very charge, though it may have been from internal family affairs, wars, essentially. Such things were not uncommon in Mistral.

But Leonardo had little interest in such activities. Like any reasonable man, Leonardo sought to live his life as trouble-free, as best and as long as possible. Participating in the affairs of the Mistral families was definitely against that aim, no matter what benefits such a relationship might bring. Hence, the reason Leonardo did not take a slice of that pie, preferring to go about his usual business alone.

It was actually one of the main reasons why his position as Headmaster of Haven was never challenged. Having a neutral as the head of the Hunter Academy was deemed as much more beneficial for the crime families of Mistral.

No, Leonardo was not a coward. Just a cautious, intelligent faunus who wished to live as long as possible in this world.

And if he had to change one patron for another to do so… Well, he did what any sane man would do. And so Leonardo certainly wasn't worried about the fact that he now had one or more inconspicuous RATS agents from Glenn with him at all times.

After all, if he was living as a perfectly normal sane person, he certainly had nothing to worry about in life.

  ***

Aifal sighed a little sadly before shifting his gaze to his wrinkled old hands and smiling slightly sadly as he looked at them.

Time spared no one.

Aifal had already snatched his lucky ticket in this world once, a second chance to have a little more fun in this world. A second chance to enjoy the world's on goings from his oh so beautiful, majestic dark mistress.

But Salem was not omnipotent. For all her understanding of magic and mastery of the terrifying art of Grimm control, Salem did not possess the ability to grant immortality. Had she possessed such ability, she would most likely have had at least a little understanding of how to reverse this process, and so would have long since come close to her goal of blissful death.

Even if Salem did in fact possess such an ability, she certainly would not have used it for Aifal's sake. And Aifal… he considered it a legitimate, fair outcome of his service.

Aifal had never been loyal to Salem, and she knew perfectly well. His reason for following someone who could be called a 'dark goddess' without remorse had always been the simple thought that 'it would be more interesting that way'.

It was more interesting to serve the dark goddess, than not to, more interesting to fight against Ozpin, to perhaps conquer the world from the shadows…

Taken on a balance, Aifal had done more damage to Salem's cause than aid it. On numerous occasions, past or present, he has sabotaged her orders, or twisted them so much that they lead to completely opposite results.

And yet, Aifal was too useful to just kill off for Salem. Salem, who had kept in the shadows of the world for millennia, who had gone hundreds of years without any contact with Remnant's society, sometimes decades without a word, Aifal was essential.

The people and faunus of Remnant were a motley, strange, wild mass, living by laws that Salem had managed to forget in all that time. Salem needed an 'interpreter', an 'instrument' of her will, a 'terminal' through which she could influence the population of Remnant, and Aifal held this position. Because Salem required someone capable of holding it.

But at the same time, Salem was under no illusions. Deprived of all the possibilities of Remnant's society, Salem was at least deprived of some of its vices. By distancing herself from humanity, Salem had lost the disgusting human habit of selective blindness to those people who were pleasing to them.

Salem simply did not perceive people as someone with whom she had any personal contact. And therefore, she was not blind to how shaky Aifal's loyalty to his 'dark mistress' was.

Aifal usefulness now posed a problem for Salem, a very significant one. He was necessary to Salem, useful, and therefore could not be so easily brushed aside, but was also so unpredictable that using him with any kind of efficiency or reliability was unequivocally impossible.

In other words, Aifal was someone that she can't plan without, but one that she can't plan with either. But instead of a romantic story, the only consequence was that Salem was sincerely trying to find the best way out of this unpleasant situation. The illness that struck Aifal in this case was probably the best thing that could have happened for Salem. Salem didn't need to worry about losing, or worse alienating, an important and effective tool by her own decision. And at the same time breathe easy because her right-hand man, who was also her worst traitor, had stopped disturbing her sleep… If Salem slept at all, of course.

The only concern for Salem was that, with Aifal gone, the position he once occupied, one who translated her wishes into useful conspiracy, had to be taken by someone else. Ideally, someone adroit and much more loyal than him… If someone like Jonathan, or Cinder, for example, had taken Aifal's place, it would have solved all Salem's problems at once.

But Jonathan and Cinder were out of her grasp, the Super-horde was destroyed, Ozpin was suddenly not as passive as Salem thought. And so, she had to recover Aifal, by then more dreaming of his death than of a cure, from the grasp of death with a face and happiness of a man, suffering from a painful toothache.

From then on, Aifal worked for Salem, but only enough to still convince her to get rid of her 'closest associate'. Feeding her news, helping her to guide the hordes, and in between tossing handouts to Jonathan or putting sticks in Ozpin's wheels.

But, time has passed since then, and although Aifal was cured once, he did not consider himself immortal, nor did he count on Salem to extend his life again.

Perhaps it could be done by Ozpin or Jonathan, Aifal had looked into their minds and both of them could, at least theoretically, accomplish such a thing, but neither of them would go along with such a thing. While Salem needed Aifal to perform an important function as an adaptor to the current society of Remnant, both Jonathan and Ozpin navigated it perfectly well without Aifal.

In other words, for them, he posed far more problems alive than dead.

In the current circumstances, however, when Salem had finally found a worthy replacement for Aifal, all according to his own efforts, in the form of Watts? It was more likely that Salem would finish him off before his time, than that she would choose to save him again.

Aifal could of course get rid of Watts and tie Salem to himself again without a single piece of evidence that he had been involved in the incident. Perhaps at the hands of the Grimm? It would give the action quite the ironic tilt or even the radicals or simply the bad food delivered to the fleeing doctor, but why would he do that?

Aifal was dying, as all old people do. Come to think of it this way, he had lingered in Remnant much longer than he had been predestined to do by Salem's hand, and so he was not worried that his death was approaching again. Yes, he would have liked to live longer, as all humans do, but he was stoically calm about his imminent death.

But like any man who senses death approaching, Aifal planned to accomplish what he still had time to do in this world before he heard the thud of four nails driven into the lid of his coffin. So many plans, so many possibilities, but so little time…

Aifal closed his eyes, then shook his head a little sadly before distracting himself from the morbid thought. Picking up on the faint background noise of thoughts that was gradually becoming clearer, the approach of a human, distracted from contemplating his own wrinkled hands and turned towards the front door, all the while averting his gaze.

As might have been expected, there were a few moments of low footsteps outside the door before a neat thud reverberated through the study, followed by a soft voice. "Uncle… I mean, Mr. Aifal?"

"Ah, Pyrrha, come in." Aifal pretended to recognize the girl only as she approached him, shaking her head as the statuesque girl with her long copper-red hair gathered in a ponytail appeared. "You're still doing it?"

Pyrrha, who'd realized at once what Aifal meant by 'doing it', looked baffled before she lowered her gaze slightly. "I… I feel uncomfortable calling you uncle in public… In front of everyone… "

Aifal shook his head at this, smiling warmly at her, "It didn't bother you before."

"Everyone in the orphanage knew you as 'Uncle' so it wasn't unusual… But outside the orphanage and especially here, you and I would get a strange look if I continued to call you uncle." Pyrrha exhaled before lowering her gaze. "I apologize."

"What for?" Aifal smiled, then sighed, thinking something else entirely. 'Sometimes, looking at something like that, almost makes me sad for being like this…'

Aifal had been a benefactor to Pyrrha Nikos, having discerned her outstanding talent, it was he who had sent her to the Hunter Preparatory School. It was he who had provided her with money, fame, it was he who had encouraged her to participate in the Mistral Youth Martial Arts Championships…

He was also the reason Pyrrha Nikos ended up in the orphanage in the first place.

No, perhaps not personally, but he was the one who gave the order. It was a terrible tragedy, the famous champion Achilles Nikos and his wife being killed in a terrible car accident, indeed, it was just a miracle that their young daughter, Pyrrha, was not in the car at the time.

And Aifal was the one to arrange all of it to happen, not that the young girl knows.

Pyrrha, hearing Aifal's words, seemed to hesitate a little before looking up at him, unaware that Aifal already knew the reason for her concern. "I… I would like to not participate in this year's championship."

"Why not?" Aifal smiled a little, in a teasing mood. "Are you afraid of losing?"

"No, no, of course not!" Pyrrha's face abruptly changed a moment later when she realized her words could be construed as bragging, and she blushed slightly. After all, Pyrrha had every reason to be proud of herself, she was a young rising star who was predicted to have a great future in her field. An outstanding Hunter, an excellent student, a model, and the perfect billet for a propaganda poster, and yet she remained painfully shy, unused to the adulation of her fans.

Some sensation-hungry journalists had even already dubbed Pyrrha Nikos the 'Mistralian Cinder Fall' and many sponsors were hungry to sponsor the future of the most outstanding Mistral hunter in the last hundred years.

"I–" Despite the abruptness of her denial, Pyrrha only averted her gaze before she swallowed uncertainly, saddened that her words might sound like a childish whim, only spoiling the hope others held for her, finally spoke up.

If anything else, Pyrrha was not a coward, unafraid to speak her mind, and so she looked up and burst out in a single breath, "I don't like the way people look at me. I… Lately, everywhere I go, people just stare at me like I'm some kind of zoo animal!"

'Some people like the spotlight, some people don't. And it seems that Pyrrha is definitely the latter' Aifal mentally sighed.

Just one phrase, and he could change her mind, turn her against her beliefs, or assuage her complaints, he could even plant new thoughts in her head and make her believe that it was all her ideas.

Aifal possessed not only intelligence, experience and verbal prowess, but the strongest weapon for such an action, the ability to read minds. However…

"No problem," Aifal smiled. "I think we can work something out."

But Aifal was not a monster looking for profit in every event, he was also capable of basic human empathy, even for those he wasn't supposed to feel it for.

He was able to experience this empathy because he was dying…

And because these were the last quiet years of Mistral, as far as rampant corruption, mob warfare and the black market could be called quiet.

Looking as Pyrrha's expression blurred into a smile, Aifal shifted his gaze to his yellowed, wrinkled hands and sighed sadly.

After Menagerie, Jonathan will take over Mistral… I will no longer be there to stop the insatiable alien from the other world.

Aifal only grinned at his thoughts, which Pyrrha, unable to hear it, took only as a slight patronizing smile from Aifal to her and smiled back.

Glenn is on the edge of creating and ruling a new world. Atlas and Mantle would be consumed by the All-Remnant Alliance, while Menagerie would titter on the balance of which leader they would follow, the chance that the conflict between Ghira and Sienna to turn hot is strong. Ozpin and Jonathan are waging war on the chessboard… And I won't get to see that ending.

Aifal sighed and spoke softly the words he had heard so often from Jonathan, which held too much wisdom for a mere man like him. "So it is done."