Invisible movers

Many people were able to distinguish between 'big' and 'small' victories and defeats among themselves, and such things depend on the individual. But no one would even try to equate the death of their family with a lost quarter. But, the difference between 'big' and 'small' setbacks was more blurry for people.

For the moneyless vagabond, the loss of a single crust of bread could mean starvation, while for the richest tycoon the loss of tens of tons of produce was only a 'minor' annoyance. There was no universal separator, no perfect parameter according to which one event or another could be universally divided for all people. There's no concrete divided between an incredible tragedy and a petty event that would not linger in their minds for longer than a few seconds.

Numbers might be a concrete descriptor, but even the value of one compared to millions are not equal. The death of a loved one, for example, is less heart-wrenching than reading that a village of thousands had died in a Grimm attack.

For the soldiers and civilians who died in the capture of Atlas and Mantle, for the desperate patriots of both states, for Robyn Hill, what happened in Mantle three years ago was a tragedy that broke their will. It destroyed their world, and turned their lives into a nightmare.

For Ozpin, the loss of Mantle was a small, unpleasant event that made him shake his head a little sadly, reflecting for a moment on not allowing anything like that to happen again in the future.

Ozpin, after all, was not perfect even now, hundreds of years later when he first became an Immortal. When his journey had just begun such events, his desperate attempts to become a politician, a savior, a ruler, such events happened to him constantly, every day.

In the end, Ozpin, and who he once was, Ozma – was a hero. A mighty warrior and mage, with a heart brimming with courage, compassion, and kindness. Politics were like poison to him, a most strange and terrifying dragon, with the only difference being that this dragon could not be defeated by any magic that Ozpin possessed. And yet, only through it could he save the most people he could, and so he dove into it head first.

His path in politics had been long, thorny, and extremely confusing. It was full of losses, disappointments, defeats… To tell the truth, Ozpin had never liked politics. He never really understood much about it, but even the dumbest of dogs could learn a trick after thousands of repetition.

What to say of Ozpin, who has spent hundreds, thousands of years in political squabbles and petty intrigue? Petty arguments, even when it existed at the highest levels of the rulers of this world's fates? After all, even though the repertoire of music was virtually infinite, there were only seven notes. The number of human psyches and personalities was manifold, but there was only a brief number of actions and an even more brief number of motives that people used in their actions. Whether it was in the political arena, or any other.

Countless tactics, but all battles boil down only to two things. Defending or attacking.

Sublime ideals, inferiority complexes, mercy, revenge, stupidity – politics was a product of the people, and therefore had at its core the same principles as all other human activities. And if for hundreds of years one continues to encounter these motives, the same actions and reactions, anyone can learn to see these motives. To learn to act within existing societies, to know and understand people, no more than a craftsman understands a broken appliance he has seen for the hundredth of a thousand times. Even with just sight alone, one would learn exactly where the breakdown is, how to fix it, and what exact action he needs to take to achieve the result he wants.

To a well practiced practitioner of their field, be it a politician, a plumber, or a doctor, even the simplest action would look like magic to the layman. His hands would deftly move, with the smallest amount of force, and the world would move, amazing anyone who saw their work.

And they are right to do so. Mastery was first and foremost about practice, even the greatest of genius, would not be capable of writing a third-rate book without practice.

Similarly, Ozpin, being worse than a third-rate politician, had nothing worthy to say about his talents…

Nothing but the fact that he had millennia of practice.

Aifal, for example, believed himself as a genius, and Ozpin would not even gainsay this fact.

The only problem was that Aifal's experience was not even one hundredth of that of Ozpin.

Relative to the time they had spent in politics, Ozpin might be nothing more than a middle class official without much ambition or talent, stuck in his job for thirty long years. In comparison, Aifal was the hotshot genius child born in a millennium under a lucky star… that had just encountered the world of politics a week ago.

However, Ozpin was not surprised or upset by such things. Over his long life, he had seen hundreds of geniuses die long before their star had a chance to rise, and he had surpassed them all, by the monotonous repetition of the same actions.

Even if he met with a hundred such geniuses, so what? Ozpin had never met a single person, genius or not, who could destroy the whole world, the whole civilization with his powers alone, apart from him and Salem that is. Aifal, Ironwood, Jacques, none of them were the exceptions…

Until the day he met Jonathan Goodman.

Ozpin had never underestimated Jonathan.

At least he always thought so.

Teleportation? Incredibly destructive weapons? Powerful secret services?

All of these were certainly incredibly useful and dangerous, but to become the real threat that would require the most careful of Ozpin's observations, the most honed of his moves, Jonathan had always lacked one thing.

Willpower.

Willpower was a yardstick far more important and dangerous than any technology, subordinates, or magic.

What difference does it make how advanced and dangerous a rifle is in a soldier's hands, if he is not prepared to fire it?

Ozpin assessed Jonathan from various angles, as a magician, an explorer, a ruler, but he did not assess him from a single angle. The one that had always been about just the two of them, him and Salem.

The Player.

Not that such an attitude from Ozpin's point of view was dismissive or inattentive, Ozpin simply understood the title 'player' to be not what ordinary people understood. Not players in local, or even international politics. Ozpin thought of only himself and Salem as players because they were the only ones who determined the path not of modernity or civilization, but of the entirety of Humanity, in all of history.

History was created between their four hands. The current nation-states, technology, even the landscape of Remnant were created by their hands. Ozpin was alive when the deposits of dust in Solitas first began to be deposited, and was alive now when they were beginning to be mined.

No matter how many brilliant and powerful, sometimes truly 'great' men and faunus, enemies and allies, men and women alike, Ozpin and Salem had met – none of them had become players. Simply because that was the nature of the eternal game between Salem and Ozpin.

Thousands of years of battle linked in an endless dance.

Where was the great Henry the Ninth? Did anyone know of his existence in this world at all? Where were his monuments, his descendants, his records?

The great hero, the creator of empires, the man who obscured the sky with his silhouette, and he was gone, dead a thousand years ago. No one in all Remnant even knew that he existed.

He was a hero, a warrior, a leader, a politician, an economist, a conqueror, any of hundreds of thousands of epithets and professions could fit him… But he was not a player. No one knew of him now, he had played his game and disappeared into the raging stream of time, along with his entire civilization.

Great scientists? Famous artists? Legendary conquerors?

All vanished, leaving no trace, no mention.

As Ozpin lived his first thousand years, he repeatedly remembered the legendary figures of the past, but gradually a realization came to him.

They were not players.

They didn't have the opportunity to be players, for they are mortal.

Perhaps that was why Ozpin allowed Jonathan to make his move?

The loss of Mantle and Atlas wasn't fatal to Ozpin, or even significant. A millennium later, no one would have known, or even remembered it.

But what if those millennia were gone themselves?

It was… A strange thought. Almost disgusting in its unknowability.

How could there not be millennia ahead for Ozpin? How could his situation change so much?

Ozpin's life had long been but one endlessly executed, repetitive function, like a broken computer that had broken down many years ago, executing only the same program over and over again. And so, he had never thought about… What would life look like if everything changed in one day?

Great heroes and conquerors, Ozpin had seen hundreds of such people – what did Jonathan represent but one more like them? One of the hundreds of great heroes whose name would be wiped off the pages of history after a measly five or ten thousand years?

But what if Jonathan… Becomes something no one has ever become before?

To become a player, in Ozpin's eyes, there were only two criteria.

Eternity. Willpower.

There were those who had the will, but what was great willpower against the all-consuming sands of time? Some Semblance might allow one to stop the tides, but the sands of time are not so easily bent to one's will.

What if Jonathan could turn those sands away?

Ozpin had a paradoxical attitude towards humanity – with a keen eye, and yet with a kind of lazy disregard. He scrutinized people, but never over-judged them.

A professional who had done the same trick a thousand times might seem like a god to other people, but in the end he was just a hack who knew one trick. And Ozpin has allowed himself to be deluded about Jonathan, allowed himself to look away from the only real variable in his constant game with Salem…

And did so in vain.

Jonathan had shown the opportunity to achieve Eternity, and had shown that he had the will.

The possibility of magic. The will to go to any lengths to achieve his goals.

Even against Ozpin himself.

And Ozpin had to act now, knowing that.

Ozpin had made a misstep.

In the great game of Salem and Ozpin, it really could not be considered anything other than a 'minor blunder'. However…

Are only Salem and Ozpin involved in this game?

And when Ozpin thought about it, for the first time in countless years, he did not find the answer as simple and obvious as he had expected it to be.

And so Ozpin decided to act.

Now, while not underestimating Jonathan.

For a long time, Ozpin had been picking up the pieces of his power scattered over decades of inaction, and for the first time in a long time he could say that he had his full arsenal in hand.

Money, pawns, connections, allies, industries, diplomats, weapons, Hunters.

Ozpin was able to regain the incredible power he once possessed, and was fully ready to use it to achieve his goals.

Kill Cinder or Aifal? Even with Ozpin's current level of ability, comparable to his days as King of Vale, it would not be a trivial task.

Ozpin couldn't say it was completely impossible, but even with his experience, it was hard to find a way to succeed. Given RATS' encroachment on many walks of life, Glenn's near-paranoid security and Jonathan's personal artifacts, it would be incredibly difficult – even if Ozpin saw sense in such an undertaking.

Before that, he wondered what Cinder would do if she lost Jonathan… But wouldn't it be worse the other way around? At least, Cinder isn't capable of building superpowered bombs with scraps, and Jonathan is capable of much more than he might seem at first glance – especially if pushed.

Political pressure? The work of the Mantle underground? Economic warfare?

Ozpin had already done that and many more, but it wasn't enough. It could slow the might of Glenn, but it was incapable of striking at the heart of Glenn, at Jonathan.

To really take control of Jonathan, if not destroy him, then at least secure himself from Glenn's power, required something more, something more personal, much more personal.

Much easier said than done, Jonathan had secured his inner circle far better than even Ozpin or Salem could.

Jonathan was also under constant protection – enhanced now by his daughter…

No, that's wrong. Jonathan had only secured his body.

After all, one could not secure one's mind or spirit as firmly as Jonathan had secured his body… And Ozpin wished to take that chance, to damage Jonathan not with the hand of an assassin.

But with the hand of an ally.

After all, Ozpin hadn't started to run his fingers through Menagerie for nothing…

And even though playing on emotions, betrayal, and discord were Salem's preferred method of attack… it didn't mean that Ozpin didn't know anything about them at all.

***

What could she have done?

Her arsenal of abilities, after all, wasn't all that great, even if she was one of Remnant's, by far, most powerful existence.

Salem could send a horde of Grimm against her opponent, if that didn't work, send in a larger horde. And if that didn't help either, then an even larger horde.

Of course this was not her only repertoire, in addition to the hordes of Grimm, Salem possessed subordinates, magic, and thousands of years of experience – but this made clear an important problem with Salem.

Salem did not possess a significant repertoire of abilities.

No matter how one looks at it, Salem was, after all, just one incredibly ancient and powerful immortal woman, locked away on a small patch of land away from all of Remnant's society. Salem was powerful beyond all doubt, however… She did not have many tools in her arsenal.

She had no ability to play the good genie, or even the evil one, for any wish-fulfillment, all Salem could provide was her power and the familiarity of her other powerful servants. Of course, Salem could use her honed skills of seduction, in terms of persuasion, not in terms of using her body. But Salem's understanding of diplomacy was in the end only as a 'blunt instrument', not in terms of her mind, but in terms of her capabilities.

Hunt down and destroy an abuser? To give command to a legion of Grimm, allowing one poor Hunter be seduced by easy power, to feel as if he was the mover of the world? Tell how much she appreciates you and your previous achievements? Absolutely.

Salem could also use her power as a stick rather than the carrot. There were countless people in the world who were willing to expand their understanding of what was acceptable in their moral code as a Beowulf pinned them to the ground, preparing to gut their bodies.

However, it all led to the same problem in the end. Salem doesn't have many tools in her belt.

Of course, any of her tools were not lacking in their effectiveness. Even if a hammer blow to the head was not as elegant a solution as a dagger to the back, it was still an extremely effective solution, one that very few people could resist. But if she were ever to meet someone immune or indifferent to her tactics, then she would have a big issue on her hands.

Because unlike Ozpin, who was already an adept Hero before he became immortal, she had no tactical or strategic flexibility. And then there was one such person.

Jonathan Goodman. The man who forced Salem to use the best trick she could think of.

After all, no one could consider her plan with Leonardo foolish. On the contrary, Salem thought she had set in motion a rather sophisticated trick, for herself at least. How could she think otherwise? When she was able to fake a betrayal, along with forcing the traitor who had captured supposedly secret information about Salem to go exactly where she wanted, under Jonathan Goodman. All while pursuing a not so secret plan to kill herself?

It should have been a magnificent plan, a devious trick executed with diligence and finesse that should have forced Jonathan to act according to her will. She would have made the magician dance on the palm of her hands…

It didn't work.

Or rather, it almost worked.

At first, Salem had thought that the deception had been unveiled and Leonardo's fake information had been found out. Or the more likely possibility, that Leonardo had failed to deliver the information properly, he was a coward after all, and being found out as one of her agents would result in a swift death. Sure, failing Salem would also result in a swift death, but cowards rarely have a predilection for planning ahead.

And so Salem had used her next card, and even her new replacement for the dying old fox, her new sidekick, Watts, in order to influence Lionheart's mind and learn about the progress of his 'betrayal'. Only to find out that Lionheart had done his job perfectly – even the information about her was taken seriously.

So why did her plan fail?

Salem's next assumption was that Jonathan, for some reason of his own, could not act on the information Salem had provided. Salem did not possess the heavily guarded secret details of Jonathan's abilities and how his magic worked. In fact, she was not at all sure that ancient magic had been revived in this world in the same form as it had existed millennia before. And so, using Lionheart again, playing the role of an 'agent', Salem began to feed him more and more information, making sure he passed all this info on carefully.

And it didn't lead to the result she expected, yet again.

In a desperate attempt, Salem assumed that Jonathan simply didn't have enough resources – money, time, strength, anything to move against the information that Salem had helpfully provided. Through every channel available to her, through Aifal and Watts, channelled all her strength to support Jonathan, interrupting Ozpin's influence as best she could.

But that didn't get Jonathan to act either.

Salem then sunk into a deep thought, trying to figure out exactly what she was missing, what was keeping Jonathan from making an attack on Salem. Before a light of understanding, wild and alien, enlightened Salem.

Jonathan was planning on killing Salem. Just not now.

Salem was…

On Jonathan's to-do list.

The reason for her failure was so simple. Jonathan knew about Salem, knew about the 'method' of killing her, and was planning to kill her…

Later. When he had time away from more important things.

Salem was… Salem just was, always was, always is. She was unchanging, like the sky or the sun, Salem has existed for countless millennia, battling all the while with Ozpin, with all of Remnant, destroying humanity time after time. She was the eternal Grimm witch and herald of the Apocalypse. Her influence over all of Remnant's history has been so great that on more than one occasion she has been the cause of the story's end.

Salem was, without exaggeration, a great being. Once she was worshiped as a goddess, once she ruled the world, once she fought across the world in a great war with mankind.

Never before has Salem been shelved in the series of 'things I need to do'. And not even at the top of the list!

Any man who found out about her would have pursued the destruction of Salem with all the powers available to them. But Jonathan hadn't. Instead, he just… Took the information about Salem to heart, and put it aside for the time being.

Until it demanded his attention.

Salem had always considered herself, objectively speaking, an important figure, if not the most important. She was the Enemy of the world, the end of Civilizations, no threat was greater than her…

And now, the one she considered an enemy, Jonathan Goodman, at whose hands Salem was counting on to die, the one who could destroy her…

Just ignored her, put the task aside, preoccupied himself with other, more critical matters in his path.

And Salem… She didn't even know exactly how she was supposed to react to that.

In the long millennia of her life, perhaps the first of its kind for Salem.

Of course, there had been times in the past when Salem had remained in the shadows, invisible to the eyes of all the world but Ozpin, hatching plans for a bloody bacchanalia ready to be unleashed at her command.

But in those times, Salem was an unknown variable!

And just as there were times when Salem, even when open to the world, did not face heroes and warriors trying to destroy her… Because they were gathering forces, looking for allies, making plans.

Never until now had Salem's enemy decided to simply 'wait' on Salem.

Moreover, Salem herself has repeatedly used time as her most powerful weapon, by waiting out enemies, armies, civilizations—time has served as her ally. To find out that Jonathan used time against herself?

Insanity. Unequivocal, pure, untainted madness.

And like all madness, there was a rational basis in this madness.

Salem had lived for thousands of years, waiting only to die, methodically destroying cities and retreating into the shadows for centuries, each time stoking the desire of the world to kill her. She had ample patience. After all, what is even a century when compared to Eternity, and yet…

How can I remain calm now, when my cherished dream is before my eyes, just inches away from me, and yet so insurmountably far from my hands.

But, as has been said, Salem's arsenal was very limited. She was willing to compromise on any principles, if anyone could say that she had any, to make Jonathan kill Salem, and to commit any action, but… What could she do at all?

Salem had surprisingly few 'carrots' that could entice Jonathan to act at all. In fact, there were none at all, and just as few 'sticks' that could make him throw himself on the obstacle in front of him that is Salem.

And so Salem simply decided to do what she could, to use the biggest 'stick' she could. She went on to create a super-horde, the largest one in Remnant's history, the one still written at least. But, even among all the great hordes in the forgotten past, it would still be called 'noteworthy'. Maybe not for its size or strength, but for the time it took to create it.

It took only six years, quite possibly the fastest growing horde of Grimm in Remnant history, all of Remnant's history, not just its current iteration.

This wasn't originally Salem's plan, it could even be said that it was a kind of accident.

Salem simply didn't have that many cards up her sleeve, nor did she have many hobbies, all Salem did in her spare time. And Salem, who had spent centuries in this world in silent solitude, had plenty of spare time, was to make more Grimm. Why shouldn't she? The Grimm were useful, a horde or two would never be a waste.

And, as one would expect, Salem was not wrong in this perception.

The greatest horde of Grimm in modern times was just waiting on her order to cast their shadow upon Remnant. And Salem was willing to give that order to force Jonathan to put aside his old plans, and proceed to kill her with all his might.

However, where to strike? Where would Salem's blow be most felt?

Options, options, options, there were so many options…

Like all previous millennia of unseen warfare, Salem had carefully chosen the best place, time, and conditions for her crushing blow. For the first time in a millennia of perpetual struggle, Salem had now barely remembered that Ozpin existed. Instead, she was trying to pick the best strategy for war against an enemy on whom she had pinned so much hope.