Registration

The Games We Play

Registration

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When the Sun rose the next morning, we were flying over Mistral. Gou sat in my lap, seeming understandably confused with life as he gazed out the window of the aircraft while Autumn was on my wrist, understandably apathetic about it all. Bringing them a long hadn't been difficult; when someone had questioned Gou's presence, my mother had said it was fine and that had apparently settled the matter—I suppose you probably saw weirder things, shuttling Hunters around.

As for why they were with us to begin with, my father was to blame; when we were preparing to leave, he had declared the house his sole dominion until mother returned and had shoved Gou into my arms to get him out of the way. What my father intended to do while we were away, I wasn't entirely sure, but I'd given up arguing when he'd started to simultaneously take off his pants and make nachos while in the process of telling me why Gou had to go.

And yes, he used those precise words frequently. Indeed, the majority of his argument had consisted of repeating those words with great emphasis. Nonetheless, he'd won the argument despite my mother's stares of disapproval and so Gou had been off to see the world.

I had…mixed feelings about that. Autumn, still mostly insensate and unable to communicate with anyone but me, I'd intended to bring with me since she returned to her rose form, but Gou…I didn't mind bringing him with me, per se, but I wasn't sure what to do with him during the festivities. I'd be busy a fair amount of the time as would my mom—one way or the other—and neither of us would be in situations fitting for a puppy. Hopefully, Grandmother would be willing to keep an eye on him; I'd tell her dad was being weird again and she'd understand.

Maybe, at least. I wasn't sure I understood, because my father, while often strange, wasn't stupid. Further, my mother hadn't stopped his strangeness, meaning…they both wanted me to keep the dog with me? I wasn't sure, but…well, it didn't matter.

I scratched Gou's ears absently, causing his tail to wag despite his expression of profound concentration, putting aside my thoughts to see the view. Mistral gleamed in the sunlight, thousands of buildings in as many styles unfolding in every direction with seemingly no regard for shape or age. Where Vale had once failed in its attempts to expand outwards, Mistral had achieved some success by growing up, even as they tried to preserve their pasts. As a result, ancient marble temples sat in the middle of a park surrounded by gleaming high-rises, monuments beside shopping districts. Where space was an issue, the people of Mistral reached higher, connecting large towers that sometimes ran across smaller structures, all of it forming a web of shining steel in the air, contrasting sharply with the monuments that made sure not to cross. 'Completed' buildings appeared strange, ready for further construction in the future when additional levels were required. There were massive structures where different buildings had risen so high, they'd needed to be linked together to keep from falling.

It added up to something at once chaotically deranged and artistically beautiful. That seemed…fitting, honestly.

Mistral was a gathering point for countless cultures, home to people of every size, shape, and color—one of the last remaining havens of Remnant's history. It was home to the remains of nations long gone, a display of Remnant's architectural history and diversity, and the home of Alexandria's great library which held onto some of the oldest texts in the world, one of the few insights we still had into our past and those who came before—

Because Mistral had taken those things from the nation's it had crushed. The arts and books, taken from the towns and towers of fallen enemies. The diversity, born from slaves brought home from war. The music, beauty, and knowledge weaved together from the things they took from the defeated. With its boot on the throat of the continent and its back to one of the most hostile environments on Remnant, it had reached out and devoured countries and kingdoms until it was all that remains—the shining jewel of the East, a pillar of art and industry and taste.

Of course, that had all happened a long time ago and things had changed a lot since the War, but…well, its rulers had made violently ruining the lives of everyone in their vicinity into something of an art form for about a thousand years, building one of the most successful Kingdom's in Remnant's history in the process. From Alexandria and the Romas to the Khans and the Carthans, the kingdom and its leader's had a reputation for military excellence, profound success against horrible odds, and a complete and utter lack of mercy.

It seemed odd, to think about that and know I was related to them—to the kings and queens of Mistral. That's a lot less impressive then it sounds, granted, as said rulers had a tendency to really get around, but it was true enough that my sisters and I had pretended to be princes and princesses and war leaders and fought to conquer Mistral or Remnant or just to decide who had to do the sucky chores. It always ended up being me, of course, but it had still been fun.

Still, looking down at the ancestral home of my family—both sides of it, if you go back far enough—I felt…odd. For all the games we'd played as children, it hadn't been until I'd started training my Intelligence that I really understood what all those tales of conquest and war meant, not just for Mistral, but for all the Kingdoms. Even with the Grimm, even with the world like it was, our history had been a bloody one. To the extent that Mistral's was the worst of all four, it was only because its campaigns had been the most successful.

Worse, I knew that without all those things…

I sighed, the sound drowned out by the ship landing.

"Home, sweet home," My mother said, raising the moment we were on the ground. I followed her out of the airship, carrying Gou which seemed to make him happy. We got to travel first class, thanks to Mom's mission and some company policies, and we were on the ground before anyone else left the plane. There were already hundreds gathered before Arch of Triumph, the legendary gates of the city; though it would have been faster to land inside, it was customary to enter Mistral through the arch when attending the festivals, owing back to its earliest days. The arch towered high, decorated in sculptures and engravings featuring thousands of faces and figures—maybe tens of thousands. Thought the opening itself was relatively small, the structure itself was at least a hundred meters tall, nearly twice as wide, and a quarter-kilometer long, expanded by generation after generation of Mistral's monarchs.

Immediately above the small entrance rested a simple looking plaque, the words on it long since faded away even though the message was clear. I turned my Clairvoyance upon it regardless and translated the revealed words carefully.

Many have stood before us;

Go now and look for them.

I couldn't help but laugh at that, smiling at the audacity of the words—before pausing, lifting my gaze yet higher. I hadn't noticed with my normal eyesight, but the sharpened clarity my skill bestowed showed me clearly.

"Mom, why are there soldiers on top of the wall?" I asked with a frown, causing her to stop and look at me. She followed my gaze, tracking upwards to the top of the arch, frowned for a moment, and then scowled, probably improving her own eyes somehow.

"Damn it," She grumbled. "Just…let's just get inside, okay? There are a thousand people out here, it's—"

But I'd already seen it—in fact, I'd probably noticed it first, since I'd already been looking. And so I crouched near to the ground, made sure I had a tight grip on Gou, and jumped. I put all my strength into it, multiplied many times over my Jumping skill and a quick call to Levant, and was rising into the air by the time my mother spoke.

Oops, I thought when I heard her words, a snarled curse following on their heels. But since I was already up hear and it would have been both embarrassing and hard to explain if I suddenly changed directions, I kept going until I was over the top of the arch, landing with one foot on what seemed like some sort of portable guardrail. The darkly uniformed figures on top reacted immediately, weapons drawn in an instant and poised to attack—

"—Stop." A calm, cold voice said, halting everyone. I hopped down from the guard rail as the uniformed men parted, revealing a woman seated in the midst of them. Even with hair white with age and a face that was leathery and wrinkled, her eyes remained as I remembered them, an almost shockingly bright blue. She was small, relatively speaking; about five-three, five-four, but she had enough presence that I'd seen her in the middle of a crowd of taller men and women.

Granted, much of that presence was in the massive, two-meter-and-change halberd she rested casually against a shoulder.

For a moment, she looked the way I always saw her in pictures, expression remote, eyes at once alert and distant. She looked fearless and deadly, uncaring whether she was attacked or fled from—there was a simple confidence to her that was so immense and yet so basic that you just accepted that she was one lethal little lady.

And then she smiled at me, something unlike the smiles she gave for cameras and addresses—something warm that light up her face and made her seem like a lethal little lady who was also a kind old grandmother.

"Jaune," She said happily, opening her arms. "I'm surprised to see you! It's been too long."

"Grandma," I reaching out to hug her fiercely.

"What brings you to Mistral?" She asked unworriedly, releasing me. "Does your mother know you're here?"

"Uh, yeah; she's down there," I said, turning to peer over the edge. There didn't seem to have been much reaction to my jump—not that I expected one from a group of people here to see Hunter's fight—but I was surprised to find a small circle cleared around her as she stared up at me. But was it fear, awe, or…no, did they…? "I think she's mad at me now though. I don't think I was supposed to talk to you."

"Mm," Jeanne the Halberd smiled, resting her elbows on the railing and cupping her chin with her hands. "Perhaps not. Really, she gets worked up over the smallest things…have you been planning to visit long?"

I scratched my head with an embarrassed smile, guessing what she was really asking and saying nothing even though it made no difference.

"No matter," She continued after a moment, voice bright and cheerful. "I'm sure her letter just got lost in the mail. It happens. Shall we go talk to her?"

"Um, ma'am," One of the men in uniform interrupted. "We—"

"Fuck off, Pech," She said in exactly the same tone. "I'm too fucking old for this bullshit, anyway. Come along now, Jaune."

She adjusted her halberd and leapt over the railing. I made to follow but paused for a minute to look back.

"Sorry," I told the man. "She does that sometimes."

And then I followed my grandmother down to the ground below.

XxXXxX

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When we returned to the ground, the demeanors of many of those around us abruptly changed—partially because of my grandmother's recognizable presence, but mostly for what it signified. The multitude of foreigners merely glanced at us in fascination, if that, but for those who lived in Mistral…

After the War ended and the continents were truly connected to one another, there had been a lot of pressure for the nations to adopt the Council-based governance system, laying aside the Monarchies and Oligarchies that had made them 'Kingdoms' in the first place. Given the nature of the War itself and those who had caused it, it was only natural for people to shy away from such things—and some places, often owing to the ruin the War itself had left in its wake, went along with the shift relatively easily. Vale, for instance, found a change in its ruling body rather simple, as the War had left it entirely without one, and so settled fairly easily into the new way of things. There were holdovers, of course, with laws and traditions owing back to the times of princes and lords and kings, but on the whole it had been an easy transition.

Not so much with Mistral. Having fought hard for the cause of individuality and stood firmly against those who sought the destruction of Alexandria's famed library, the lords and ladies of Mistral had considered the suggestion to step down both insulting and ungrateful and had reject the demands outright. They'd remained unshaken in the face of resulting political pressures, as well, refusing to submit to such tactics. Supported by its allies in Vacuo, there had once been a real chance of another War over the matter.

Mistral went to war with itself, instead. During the course of the war, many had fled their homes and sought safe haven in the city and more had followed when it had remained one of the least damaged in the aftermath. With Vale and Atlas putting themselves back together, the two remaining Kingdoms had been the natural choice for those seeking safety from Remnant's threats, but those same people weren't happy with being ruled again, either—and the descendants of long conquered peoples began to take issue as well. Things had gotten tense as a result, something which had drawn more and more Grimm to the nation until things got bad and fingers were pointed. Finally breaking down around forty years ago, the Kingdom had very nearly torn itself apart in a Civil War. The war had lasted longer than anyone expected, degenerating as it did as the ideologies and sides broke down and it because worse and worse, but in the end, the rebels won.

Except not really. As far as official statements went, the old way of doing things has been abolished and Mistral was now governed by elected officials; it was pure coincidence that said figures happened to be pretty much the same people as before. The Nobility of Mistral had made concessions and agreed to accept the changing times peacefully for the betterment of the nation—and so the Council was made.

With an iron gauntlet clamped firmly around its neck. Indeed, Mistral's lords and ladies had set aside their literal crowns and metaphorical swords to become upright members in society—a society they had all but owned, in the end. Despite the many famous battles, the Civil War had truly been won through socioeconomics, with the Noble's banding together to buy up what was, at the time, worthless property. Laws had been laid down concerning the treatment and ransom of prisoners, such that even great men could be set free with an at the time humble offering of fallen businesses and valueless land, as opposed to other, higher costs. It hadn't seemed to matter at the time, when no one really cared who God or the law said owned what and both sides seemed intent on uprooting the other.

But then the battles had become peace talks and all the more dangerous for it, the Noble's having a firm position legally and militarily. In the negotiations that followed, the rebel leaders had been careful to include clauses pertaining to the ownership of such land and how it could be taxed, used, and so on. Employees were protected, as were those who lived on the land and used it, trying to keep it from screwing them over without being able to deny the Noble's claims directly. These places needed to be maintained for historical reasons, these businesses had to be kept profitable, or else ownership reverts to etc.

And the Nobles had accepted it, in return for conditions of their own, uninterested in petty vengeance. They'd quietly stayed back and profited from the cash inflow for most of a decade, quietly toiling behind the scenes and stay out of sight and out of mind except when they needed to act to support their investments. For years, they allowed Mistral to flourish, and then—moving as a unified group—had acted.

They didn't conquer Mistral or enslave its people or reap cold vengeance on their enemies, but they seized power—economically, politically. The richest families of Mistral acting in concert struck hard and fast in what would have been an amazing display had anyone even noticed at the time. Instead, it wasn't until weeks or months later that any even caught on. They were subtle about it, especially at first; taking over businesses through many accounts, working together to reach what they couldn't separately, making it look like nothing was even really happening until after they were in too far to remove once people understood.

And they'd been around ever since, something in the background to most people but affecting everything. Not as a single person or even a family, but many different families tied together despite their clashing methods and beliefs, working together when no one thought they could. The Children of Khagan, of the brothers, of Alexandria and Barca and many more—united. Each, a number of different, interrelated families. Together…honestly, they were more like a mafia. A mafia so large, so entrenched, that it wasn't even really illegal anymore.

Which didn't mean they were necessarily well liked. As I stood beside my grandmother, I immediately received looks—some of them acknowledging, like between colleagues. Others seemed considering, looking for something. Most of the Mistral crowd paid us little heed, recognizing my grandmother but then moving on, uncaring of who owned what.

But a few, I Detected before I even saw, such was their intensity. It wasn't everyone, it wasn't even most people, but among those watching us were players, those who fought against the group that had once been nobles in confrontations that could be economic or violent. They knew who my grandmother was, what she had done, and they hated her, just as they hated me for standing beside her.

This was Mistral, now; the city famed for standing united in the War, divided three ways. Or was it four ways? It could have been five, depending on who you counted; maybe even more. Whatever the case, there were interests and enemies, politics and schemes, positions and territories—things that most people who lived there didn't pay any mind, but things that happened beneath there city's surface. The people staring at me with hostility enough to burn…they could have been anyone; criminals, police, or businessmen who remembered the Civil War and had been wronged or defeated.

And yet, standing there amidst all that, my grandmother smiled very slightly, looking utterly at ease. I followed her lead, letting the serenity of the Gamer's Mind brush aware the unnerving stares and I walked just a step behind my grandmother, showing deference to the head of my mother's family. I didn't move closer or back away, but stayed relaxed and unruffled even as I kept my senses sharp.

"Grandmother," I whispered quietly as I picked out some particular intense hatred coming from a calm-looking, balding man in his forties. "Thirty-seven meters to your right."

She didn't so much as twitch, that I could see, nor was there even the slightest change in her pace.

"I see him," She said an instant after I finished. "Don't worry, dearie."

I nodded and dismissed him from my thoughts, trusting her. Even without being able to see her face, I thought she must have been smiling.

"You've gotten stronger, Jaune," She said. "And taller, too. You're lucky, you know; you look just like your grandfather."

I was pretty sure she meant on my father's side, but didn't ask as I stared calmly ahead, making sure I was out of her way, just in case someone tried something. I came to a stop as we reached my mother, absently watching the crowds give us a wide birth, even though we were in the way.

"Isabelle," Grandmother said, a warm, gentle sound to the word. "It's been too long. I meant to come down last year, but…well, I am such a busy little bee. Something came up that had to be dealt with and it needed a woman's touch. Please forgive me."

"It's not a problem," Mother answered, her voice bizarrely quiet. Her eyes, though, sought my face and there was a demand in them. I hesitated more an instant before starting to move to her side, halting at a touch from my grandmother's hand.

"Now, now," She clicked her tongue. "Don't be too hard on the boy; he hasn't seen his grandmother in years. You're sixteen now, aren't you, Jaune?"

"Yes, Grandmother," I answered, glancing from her hand to my mom's face and shrugging helplessly.

"Sixteen," She sighed. "And only now seeing Mistral. But you started his training, didn't you Isabelle?"

My mother said nothing at that, so Jeanne turned to look at me, expression expectant.

"Yes, ma'am," I answered. "I've been working hard to get into Beacon, Grandmother."

"Bah," She said, but she was smiling. "Beacon. Is that dusty old wizard still alive?"

"Professor Ozpin is doing well, Jeanne," Mother answered with forced patience. "He sends his regards."

Grandmother laughed.

"I'm sure he does," She smiled and for a moment it looked sharp enough to cut. "How sad; it seems everyone is too busy to visit their old friends. It must be because I'm so wrinkled, nowadays."

"Ridiculous," I stated immediately. "You look even younger then when I saw you last, Grandmother. I'll be wrinkled before you are."

"Aw," She replied, never taking her eyes off my mother. "That's sweet of you to say, Jaune; actually, I have been moisturizing lately. Still, I'm certain I'd look younger still if I didn't spend so much time worried about my little girl and my tiny grandchildren."

Mom grit her teeth but said nothing again, so my grandmother glanced my way, secretive smile on her lips.

"I asked her to send your sisters to Haven, you know, so they could come visit this poor old women," She told me. "But your mother wouldn't have it. What about you, Jaune? A bit young, but you seem strong enough now. Would you like me to speak to the Headmaster for you?"

"Uh…" I blinked.

"That won't be necessary, Jeanne," My mother cut in. "We've our own business to take care of."

"Oh, I'm sure you do," Grandmother replied, turning the smile on her. I saw my mother's face twitched and wondered if my grandmother knew why we were here—thinking about it, she hadn't seemed all that surprised to see me. "But please, a moment to catch up. Do you mind, Jaune?"

I glanced between my mother's flat gaze and my grandmother's smiling face and picked the least dangerous option.

"I don't mind," I said.

"Wonderful," She answered, clapping her hands lightly. "But let's not stand out here all day. Shall we go home, Isabelle?"

I saw my mother's mouth twitch, her fingers flex, but she nodded.

"It's been a long time," She said quietly, looking like she wanted to say something more.

"Good, good," Grandmother said. "It's about time you saw it, Jaune—all your sisters already have."

Mom froze, expressionless, while I blinked in surprise.

"My sisters were here?" I asked. "When was this?"

"Oh, now and then," She gestured. "They stop by to visit whenever business brings them this way and keep an old woman company. It's nothing special, but it reminds me they care."

I saw my mother's hands shake slightly and quickly changed the subject.

"This is Gou, by the way," I said, jostling the dog lightly. He wiggled in my grasp, tongue lolling out as he enjoyed being carried. Grandmother absently scratched his ears, looking him over.

"Gou?" She said, sounding amused. "A good name for a dog, I suppose."

"Why thank you," I smiled, offering her my arm to try and steer us towards the house.

"Are you going to train him?" My grandmother asked, taking it and beginning to guide me. "I've always been partial to local breeds, myself, but an Atlesian isn't a bad choice, either."

"I've already started," I told her as I followed. "I already awakened his aura. It'll take a while before I feel comfortable taking him into the field, but…"

"Anything worth doing is worth taking the time to do well," She advised. "Patience is a virtue, believe you me."

I nodded.

"I take it from your words that you've been in the field yourself, though?" She continued, smiling when I nodded. "Another thing I've missed; you'll have to tell me all about it. Anything else?"

"A few things," I admitted, though I only lifted the wrist Autumn clung to. I saw my grandmother glance at it speculatively. "I'll tell you later, though."

"Fair enough," She said. "I suppose you're here for a reason, then, I suppose?"

I thought that might have been directed at mom, but I figured she wouldn't want to talk about her business—or at least not here—so I nodded and spoke instead.

"The festival, mainly," I said. "I've never seen it."

"And what a crime that is," Grandmother sighed. "Don't worry, dear; I'll make sure you see what you've missed."

I nodded with a smile.

"Besides that…" I said, shrugging a little. "It's a little silly, but I thought it might be fun to compete in the tournament. Mom signed me up in advanced."

"Oh?" My grandmother quirked an eyebrow, lips twitching. "Those things are silly, but they're fun as well. They can even be entertaining to watch, betimes."

"Do you think they will be this year?" I asked curiously.

"Oh, perhaps," She mused, glancing up at the sky. "But I'm hoping for more than just that. Luckily, this has been a year for interesting things, so far. Even the forecast seems good."

I followed her gaze to the dark clouds in the distance and felt something stir in me, Vulturus rousing from his slumber at the sight.

"Storm clouds," I mused.

"Yes," She said, smile on her lips. "And I do so love a good storm."

"Grandmother, when you say things like that, they sound really ominous," I sighed. "But well…"

I pondered the cloud just as lightning flashed in the distance.

"I guess I do, too, though," I admitted as the thunder rumbled under my feet.

XxXXxX