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Cinder wanted out.
Two weeks, and she was still stuck in Mistral.
With its bad memories and cruel society and streets crawling with prejudice, Cinder thought she’d go crazy if she spent another day here.
Thankfully, she wouldn’t have to.
After taking in Emerald, both she and Winter had come to the conclusion that they needed to stay for a while longer, even if they’d given up on the task they’d come here with the intent of carrying out. Neither of them had wanted to bring Emerald back out into the streets right after letting her stay for just one night in a reasonable hotel room. So, they’d stayed, gathering supplies and allowing Emerald to enjoy life for at least a short while. Part of Cinder wished she could do more for her, but staying in Mistral any longer came with the risk of discovery. Coupled with how bad Mistral was, there was just no choice.
The morning after agreeing to take Emerald in, Cinder and Winter had explained most of their situation. The teenaged girl’s crimson eyes had widened with every new piece of information, but not once had she looked afraid, even when they’d explained that she’d have to come on the run with them.
“Anything to get out of here,” She’d said. “Besides, I’m used to hiding.”
She’d explained her Semblance to them; an extraordinary power that allowed her to manipulate the minds of others, to make them see things that weren’t there- or things that were.
“I can’t…really do it on more than one person,” She’d admitted, “It hurts. But I’m sure it can help us sneak around when we need to.”
So now, here they were. All three of them, on their way out of Mistral, dodging eyes that might recognize them and staying on the down-low. Every part of Cinder was itching to get out.
Suddenly, without warning, Cinder felt hands grab her and pull her into an alleyway. She turned on Winter to protest, but the other woman hushed her sharply, before peering around the corner. Curious, Cinder looked too.
Ahead of them, a man stood hunched over, facing away from them. A mostly-empty bottle of cheap wine hung from one hand, a scroll was pressed to his ear in the other. He was speaking through it, his voice low and rough.
“Who is he?” Emerald beat Cinder to the question.
Winter’s gaze was sharp as she glared out at the man. “Qrow Branwen.” She whispered back.
Cinder’s skin prickled at the name. Like anyone else from Mistral, she’d heard of the deadly Branwen tribe of bandits, who had a habit of raiding small settlements and letting the Grimm finish the job of killing villagers for them. And she knew more than most, when she’d heard the whispers that it was this tribe who’d led to the death of her birth parents. This man sharing a name with them couldn’t have been a coincidence.
Winter continued, “He’s…met with and worked with Ironwood before. But they act more like bitter exes than friends. I believe the only reason they tolerate each other is because they’re both deeply loyal to and respectful of Ozpin.”
Cinder narrowed her eyes. Ozpin. Headmaster of Beacon Academy, and a name uttered in fury by Salem on a regular basis. She’d met him herself before, during a Vytal Festival in Vale, but though she knew he was no longer the enemy that Salem preached him to be, there was still something about him that Cinder couldn’t trust. After all, if he’d had a past with Salem that she was certain he wasn’t vocal about, what else was he hiding?
She turned her attention back to Qrow. It was odd to hear that he was working with ironwood and Ozpin if he was part of a bandit tribe. Perhaps the name was merely a coincidence. “What’s he doing here?”
“Ssh,” Winter hushed her, “Listen.”
“I’m not done here, James,” Qrow was saying. “Just because you don’t have a heart, doesn’t mean some of us don’t care.”
In the silence, Cinder could just make out the words of whoever was on the other side of the scroll.
“I told you Qrow, if Tyrian’s set his sights on Fall, that’s far more important.”
Cinder felt Winter stiffen beside her; both recognized the voice. General Ironwood himself.
“There’s a kid up on that damn farm with him,” Qrow snapped back, “I’m not content to just leave a teenager under the care of an assassin like Black.”
Cinder and Winter exchanged a glance. A farm? A kid?
“So you keep saying,” Ironwood sounded tired, “But the protection of the maiden is more important than playing child services. Find Tyrian, and find Amber. That’s an order.”
There was a click, and Qrow lowered the scroll with a growl of frustration. Cinder heard a muttered ‘asshole’, before Qrow trudged out of sight, still hunched over.
Cinder’s mind raced to process the information she’d just heard. “So they are real…”
Winter and Emerald both gave her a quizzical glance.
“The four maidens,” Cinder explained, “legends of Remnant, told of in fairytales. Four women with magical power beyond dust or semblances, without the limit of Aura.”
“I…think I’ve heard of them,” Emerald piped up. “I’d hear stories being spread around on the streets. Some people believe that they’re immortal spirits, with each one overlooking a different kingdom. Others believe they’re codenames for weapons.”
Cinder glanced around, ensuring there were no prying ears or ears nearby. “According to Salem,” she stated, “They’re real people. And she’s looking for them.”
Winter blinked in surprise and confusion. “What? How…why?”
Cinder shook her head. “She never told me,” She admitted. “But if the even Atlesian military is trying to protect them, I’m guessing it’s nothing good.”
Winter looked deep in thought, and worry swam in her eyes, but she didn’t speak.
Cinder stepped closer to her, just enough so that their arms lightly brushed. “What’s wrong? What are you thinking?”
Winter looked up at her. “If people like Ironwood and Qrow know that these maidens are real, and they know about Tyrian…does that mean they know about Salem, too?”
Cinder stared at her. The thought had never crossed her mind before; she hadn’t considered that anyone could know about Salem outside of those Ozpin and that worked with her. But then, if Ozpin knew, who was to say that he hadn’t told those most loyal to him?
“I…they could,” She admitted. “I’ve told you that Salem had mentioned Professor Ozpin a lot before. If she has an army, maybe he secretly has one too.”
“And people like Ironwood are a part of it,” Winter looked frustrated. “So we won’t be able to find help there.” She turned away, hands on her head. Cinder desperately wanted to reach out and comfort her.
“Hey,” She pointed out, “This isn’t all bad. We know more now than we did.” The other information the call had given her spun in her mind. “And now, we know where Marcus Black is.”
Winter turned back to her, hesitation in her eyes. “Qrow mentioned a farm…”
“Right,” Cinder confirmed. “And I don’t think that man is going to be able to do want he wants.”
On their way into Mistral, Cinder and Winter had passed a distant farm, considering using it for shelter if necessary. It had been run-down and shady, so they’d assumed nobody lived there, but a seemingly abandoned farmhouse would certainly be a good place for a wanted assassin to lie low.
Winter sighed. “You want to go and save the kid.”
That didn’t sound promising. Cinder shot her a slight glare. “We can’t just leave them alone,” She insisted, “That man’s either raising them up to be a killer, or treating them like shit. Probably both. I’m not just going to let that slide.”
Winter looked weary. “I understand, Cinder, but we’re supposed to be on our way out. Going back will only cost us time.”
Cinder bared her teeth, anger and frustration shooting through her. He old Winter was slipping through again. “A kid’s wellbeing is more important than our objective,” She snapped. “Maybe you can sit by while someone’s being treated badly, but I can’t.” I won’t do what he did.
Winter blinked in dismay. “Cinder…”
“Don’t,” Cinder hissed, hot anger pulsing through her. “I’m going to help that kid. You can come with me, or not.”
Winter looked conflicted. “Maybe we can contact the police-”
“No!”
The voice wasn’t Cinder’s, but Emerald’s. The teenager had come to stand beside Cinder, fire in her eyes.
“The police will be useless,” She pointed out sharply. “If they don’t get killed just trying to get in, they’ll just send the kid to any random orphanage. They won’t help. They never do.”
Winter looked defeated. She must have known Emerald was right. How could she deny it, when she’d been on the other side herself? When it was why she’d left them?
“Winter, please,” Cinder begged, desperation replacing her anger. “I need you with me for this. For…for…” She hesitated. “Everything,” She added softly. “Don’t let this be where we go our separate ways again.”
Winter visibly softened, and sighed again. “Of course not,” her voice was barely more than a whisper. “Let’s go.”
The farmhouse wasn’t too far away from the edge of Mistral, but it was nearly dark by the time the three arrived, making the unnatural light coming from the house easier for Cinder spot as the group approached. She peered closer.
“Is that…just the lights?”
But no, the light flickered too much, and Cinder could make out a hazy layer of gray floating around the structure.
Winter stiffened. “Fire,” She confirmed. “Come on.”
The four of them rushed forward over the grass the spread from the path to the house, the sound of the fire reaching Cinder’s ears and growing louder the closer they got. Please don’t let the kid be in there, she pleaded inwardly, please…
Cresting a rise to look down at the house grounds, Cinder’s initial fear was instantly diminished, only to be replaced with more fear and confusion. Among the haze, she could make out two figures, one lying on the ground, the other standing near the first, bent over and clearly exhausted.
“Stay here,” Cinder instructed Emerald, just in case, before darting over to where the second figured stood.
The figure, a teenaged boy Emerald’s age, looked up at her as she approached, eyes full of rage and pain. Now that she was closer, she could see that both people were stained with blood; dark red stains covering the bandaged on the boy’s legs.
Cinder had a feeling she knew the answer, but she asked anyway. “Is…Marcus Black here?”
The boy turned to look at the man lying next to him. “Right there.” He spat bitterly.
Cinder turned her attention to the body. The was no rise and fall of his chest, no staggered sounds of breathing that should have been coming from anyone living with the wounds he had. He was dead, and this situation felt all-too-familiar. Cinder tried not to breathe in the smell of blood, and tore her gaze away, back to the boy.
“Are…you his son?” She asked hesitantly.
The boy spat. “Hardly. Not anymore.”
It was all Cinder could do not to look at the body again. She didn’t want to think about her own situation, didn’t want to be reminded of that night.
“So, what know?” The boy growled. “You here to arrest me?”
Sympathy washed over Cinder. Of course that would be his first thought. Of course he was going to assume that most people were going to consider him a monster for freeing himself from his pain. But Cinder wouldn’t be that person. She refused.
“No,” She shook her head. “I came here to help you.”
The boy’s face twisted in anger, or was it pain? “I don’t need your help.” No sooner than the words had left his mouth, he collapsed to the ground.
As Cinder knelt beside him in alarm, rushed footsteps sounded as Winter and Emerald came to her side, looking equally alarmed.
“Are you okay?” Emerald tried to reach a hand towards the boy, but he flinched away roughly.
“Get away from me!” He snarled. “I don’t need anyone’s help. Leave me alone.”
Cinder stared at him. “Kid, you’re hurt. We’re not going to leave you to die.”
“Why not?” The boy grunted. “I fucking deserve it.”
The words hit Cinder in the gut. There was that familiar feeling again. Sorrow overwhelmed her, but Winter spoke before she could.
“No, you don’t.” her blue eyes were sharp, yet gentle at the same time. “We know what kind of man your father was,” She told the boy, “And I can only imagine what horrible things he must have done to you. You did what you had to. Anyone who would fault you for that would have to be as cruel as he was.”
Cinder stared at her, her chest clenching, her heart full of gratefulness and warmth towards the other woman. She did understand. Even if the militant part of her stopped her from showing it sometimes.
“Whatever,” The boy muttered. “I’m going to die anyway.”
No,” Cinder placed a hand on his shoulder, determination pulsing through her. “You won’t. What’s your name?”
The boy huffed. “Mercury.”
Cinder kept her hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to help you, Mercury. You’re free from him now. You should be allowed to enjoy that.”
“You’re not alone anymore.” Winter added softly. Cinder shot her a glance. We’ve added another one, haven’t we? Another kid to protect, who they’d have to take in if they wanted him to stand any chance of being safe, as ironic as it was. Cinder didn’t mind at all.
This was being a huntsman, legal or otherwise. Not just fighting Grimm, not working for the military, but helping those who couldn’t help themselves. It was what people like Rhodes, like Ironwood, just couldn’t seem to fully understand. But Cinder did, she was sure of that now. And she had a feeling that Winter did too.
You’re not alone anymore. Winter’s words rung in her head. She got the strangest feeling that she hadn’t just meant them for Mercury.
It was true, though, Cinder thought. She wasn’t.