Back from my two days' recovery from illness. Still a little rough around the edges, but no longer suffering from the bigger symptoms. Did get a lot of "Why are you not updating…?" and "Where are the chapter…?" private messages despite putting details on my profile and both those updating stories but ah well.

Cover Art: Mystery White Flame

Chapter 75

It wasn't Jaune's first siege, but it was the first one he'd really been in charge of and he had no idea what to do. Luckily, he was surrounded by people who did. General Ironwood kept a constant flow of information from the walls to logistical supplies and fed all that back to him. Nicholas stayed nearby and offered advice or otherwise shooed unimportant visitors away, preventing anyone from seeing the panicked and stressed mess their `glorious commander` had been reduced to. The only ones allowed entry were those in the know, or those trusted enough not to talk about what they'd seen.

Neo was one of those both for trust and because she couldn't talk, and was busy massaging his shoulders from behind his chair, digging an elbow into his neck like she was searching for gold and masticating every muscle in his body in a manner not dissimilar to their early training sessions. It was a good pain. Anything that kept him from thinking about the siege was good.

"Today's casualty figures." Ironwood spared a raised eyebrow for Neo but otherwise moved into the room, setting down a sheet of paper on Jaune's metal desk. The fallen once-battleship now felt suitably apt for the given situation.

"How bad is it?"

"Eighty-six wounded, twelve serious enough to be sent to Atlas via portal for treatment. Most of those are among my men. Their auras either weren't developed enough, or they weren't able to utilise them as well as huntsmen can. They should all survive."

"And the dead?" Jaune asked, dreading the answer.

"None."

Jaune Arc blinked. In his head he wondered if he hadn't become so good at lying that he could lie to himself about what his ears heard. He jammed a finger in one and twisted before asking, "None…?"

"None." Ironwood confirmed. "Yet. The Grimm are throwing themselves at the walls – quite literally, by the way. They've set up some crude siege system in which Beringels launch Nevermore and smaller Grimm at the ramparts."

"That's… unique. How is it faring for them?"

"Poorly."

"The Beringel can't reach the walls?"

"Oh, they can. They're able to throw Boarbatusks over the walls in some cases; it's the landing that's proving tricky for them. Turns out a body of flesh, bone and blood hurtling toward concrete at terminal velocity doesn't hold up all that well. It has generated one casualty." He coughed into his fist. "A Boarbatusk smashed through a window close to Qrow Branwen, causing him to stumble back and fall through a rotten floorboard, catching himself a nasty blow to the head. He's fine, if embarrassed. More than can be said for the Boarbatusk."

Poor Qrow. Poor, but unsurprising, Qrow. "Are the Beringel still going at it?"

Ironwood made to open his mouth only for a cry of "incoming!" to sound from outside. A loud whooshing noise preceded an epic slam, making Jaune and Nicholas jump and wheel about. A small Beowolf not much bigger than a dog but a hell of a lot flatter slid down the reinforced glass of the Atlas battleship wall behind his desk, leaving behind a horrid smear of red blood that thankfully began to dissolve into mist.

"I'd take that as a yes." Ironwood remarked.

"Why? It's clearly not working."

"Maybe she sees it as worthwhile if even a hundred small Grimm can injure a single huntsman; even if they don't survive the landing there is the chance they strike someone on the way down. Such weak Grimm might be considered useless otherwise. Or it could be that she can't tell if it's working or not. The Beringel are throwing them over the walls after all. For all she knows we're being overrun by Grimm right now."

Jaune frowned and pulled his stolen chair up to his stolen desk, then pulled out the book he'd borrowed from Oobleck. `Pun You's Art of War, Cooking and Lovemaking` was a thick and hefty tome dedicated solely to military doctrine, sexual positions and at least twenty pages on how to cook a meringue. Oobleck assured him it was all history, and thus all important. Jaune stuck firmly to the first third, trying desperately to ignore how Neo had folded several pages over in the third and drawn red circles around a few positions that looked designed to break his spine.

"Siege warfare." he read. "If troops lay siege to a walled city, their strength will be exhausted. Therefore, the best warfare strategy is to attack the enemy's plans, next is to attack alliances, next is to attack his army, and the worst is to attack a walled city. If the general cannot control his temper and sends troops to swarm the walls, one third of them will be killed, and the city will still not be taken. This is the kind of calamity when laying siege to a walled city. Therefore, one who is skilled in warfare principles subdues the enemy without doing battle, takes the enemy's walled city without attacking, and overthrows the enemy quickly, without protracted warfare."

"Wise." Ironwood said, nodding. "Then again, she's throwing her troops at the walls and they are dying by the droves. Not getting exhausted, though. Benefits of using Grimm as soldiers. The Beringel might be her attempt to attack our army – to bypass the walls. It's sound in theory, and if the Grimm were surviving the landing then I dare say we'd have problems."

"Do you think there's a chance she'll modify them to do so?"

"Quite possibly. That is if she realises her current strategy is failing her. We should hope that doesn't happen. How is the ancient warfare codex? Any ideas?"

"It's all very romanticised." Jaune closed the cover with a sigh. "This one isn't so bad, but some of the other accounts were ridiculous. Entire battles decided by games of chess, people hiding in big wooden horses to fool defenders into opening the gates and philosophical debates so heated they can apparently cause the loser to suffer an instant heart attack and die – which the loser's army apparently takes as a sign of such monstrous debating power that they flee despite having a larger army. Oh, and one person playing Darude, Vacuostorm, over an open gate of an undefended castle which causes the attackers to decide it's obviously a trap and run away because there's simply no way the defending general would be that relaxed if he didn't have some incredible ambush lying in wait."

"Sounds like something you'd do." Ironwood sighed angrily. "And pull off…"

Jaune scowled. He wasn't that bad. Was he? Well, he'd walked out with a mop and a packet of cigarettes to – oh hell, he was that bad! People were going to read stories about him in the future and think he was even more heroic and intelligent than they already falsely assumed. Damn it, Oobleck!

"Regardless, I'm going to try and enact one of the plans I got from here later today."

"Care to share with the class?"

"Not really. Because if it doesn't work then I won't look like an idiot."

Ironwood snorted. "Fair enough. You're unusually snappish today."

"I'm leading the defence of a city when I'm a fraud and an idiot. Forgive me for being a little stressed. I have literally no idea what I'm doing!"

/-/

Salem watched the Grimm assault the walls and had to admit, if only to herself, that she literally had no idea what she was doing. Only to herself. In front of Tyrian and Hazel, she kept a neutral and calm expression as if everything was going to plan.

Warfare wasn't her forte. There was a reason she recruited people.

Cinder had been the one she planned to have lead her eventual conquest of the Kingdoms, with Watts there to offer technological support because Salem wasn't afraid to admit that after taking two hundred years to get used to this `texting business` she was a little behind on the latest doohickeys and gadgets. Hazel had been recruited to add some much-needed muscle for use against those tricky huntsmen and huntresses that just needed a direct application of force to the cranium, and Tyrian…

Well, Tyrian had just shown up one day, started worshipping her and refused to leave or die like a good gnat when she'd sent waves of Grimm at him. After he'd worked his way through every Grimm in her tower in a matter of minutes, she'd figured it was better to play to his delusions.

Either Cinder or Watts would have been useful here – one for leadership and the other to hack or otherwise devise a clever way through the walls. Instead, she was stuck with dumb and dumber, the muscle and the no-brain, ranting moron and silent-giant. That Tyrian would not shut the hell up only made it worse. Those Beringel were looking mighty strong and Tyrian was looking mighty aerodynamic right now.

"-to bow down and worship you like the ants they are! Before you smite them with your glorious and godly power. Oh Salem, oh Goddess, your footsteps cause the ground to quake and all to lose their minds as they gaze at your wonderous domain!"

"I have no domain, idiot. I live in a tower in the middle of nowhere."

"Oh, you have domain, my Goddess." His eyes dipped. "Great tracts of land."

Salem sighed for the umpteenth time, balanced her chin on her fist and watched her forces do their best to headbutt a wall into oblivion. This really wasn't her forte. Ozma had been the conquering King; she'd been the diplomatic negotiator and peace-time Queen. He'd always said she had a silver tongue – it was literal now, damned Grimm body – but back then he'd been referring to her ability to convince foreign Kings to swoon and even raise their armies against the Brother Gods. Her clever words and natural charm had wooed millions, including Ozma himself when they first met.

Of course, the actual fighting was left to those better suited. Ozma in most cases – though she'd left the attack on the Gods to each Kingdom's respective leaders, for all the good that had done. She'd always been wise enough to know what she was and wasn't good at, and that weakness was part of what made her and Ozma such a power couple. He'd covered her weaknesses and she covered his most glaring fault – his complete inability to handle or finish paperwork in any form or fashion.

This was, with no exaggeration, her first ever siege of a settlement. The little ones outside the Kingdoms didn't count; they could be overrun by just throwing Grimm at them. Mountain Glenn didn't either, for all that Vale liked to suggest the Grimm had overrun it. Oh, she'd tried – she really had! – but no sooner had she rocked up with an army had some Doctor Merlot twat on the inside basically thrown the city into anarchy and destroyed it from within.

Truly, humanity was its own greatest enemy. Course, she'd taken the credit since Vale was so eager to throw it her way. Free kudos. There were times when she wondered if she didn't do that too often, taking credit for things that weren't really her victories. Mountain Glenn was one such example, but so were all the little villages and towns that got themselves wiped out by aggravating nearby Grimm and committing suicide on them. All part of her glorious plan, or so Ozma would accuse her in the few times she managed to capture him.

"Y-Yes, of course. My glorious plan. Mwahahaha. Do you see now, Ozma? Your efforts are useless."

Salem groaned into the palm of her hand. This curse that left her immortal was only one part of the God's punishment, it seemed. The other part was to leave her immortally trapped in a job she had no experience in. One that might as well be the worst suited for her.

"Hazel." Salem waited for him to approach. "How goes the assault?"

"Marvellously!" Tyrian crowed.

"I asked Hazel."

"Poorly, my Queen."

"BLASPHEMER!"

"And the trebu-beringels?"

"Their aim is improving," Hazel admitted. "They are able to land their shots within the city now." He paused to grunt. "Not that hitting a city spanning the size and width of Vale is an impressive feat of marksmanship…"

"Do you believe they are causing chaos within the walls?" she asked excitedly. There was something marvellously devious about a plan she'd made with her own hands coming together. Maybe this strategy thing could be rewarding after all. "Do you imagine that they are even now cowering in fear of ferocious Grimm landing among them?"

"If the Grimm are surviving the landing…"

If? Well, yes, that was a point. Still, a little landing like that couldn't be so hard – she could nail it a hundred out of a hundred times. Sure, her bones would be pulped, but bones were quick to grow back. Or is that just my bones? No, no, I'm sure I remember Ozma breaking an army once and it got better over time. Remembering just what it was like to be mortal was difficult at times, it had been so long ago after all.

"I'm sure they are fine. Either way, we shall turn their walls against them, trap them inside with an ever-growing number of Grimm. And soon, our army from the ocean will sweep in and-"

Hazel coughed meaningfully.

Salem sighed. "The naval forces have been annihilated, haven't they?"

"Not annihilated. Impeded. Menagerie is fielding a navy of its own."

"Yes. I saw." Hard to miss all those boats out on the water. "I'm also sure I explicitly instructed the Grimm to swim beneath them and not engage. Slaughtering Menagerie's puny navy isn't our main priority. Invading Vale is."

"Yes…"

For a second time, Salem sighed. "What happened…?"

"Menagerie's forces seem to have preternatural knowledge on when and where the Grimm are trying to slip by. They've been using depth charges with incredible accuracy to wound and force the Grimm to surface, then picking them to pieces before they can counter-attack. From what little I've been able to gather through the Seers you sent along, the ships are being led by some shark faunus…"

Typical. So, this aquatic faunus must have swum underwater to see the Grimm coming before signalling up somehow. Problematic, but not the end of the world. The attack from the sea had been one of many gambits. One of many ideas. Ideas of which were falling apart rather quickly and now she really wished Ozma was here to just storm the gates on his own like a god of war. I'm immortal, too, she thought petulantly. I could fight if I had to.

Fight. Yes. Ahem. Another thing she may have delegated for the past thousand years or so. What was the point, really? Even if she couldn't be killed, she still only had two arms and apparently dual wielding was harder than it looked. She could at best kill one person at a time, two if she were lucky, and that was assuming a vast difference in their skill and hers. Not likely since Ozma had basically weaponised the general populace into melee monsters with his huntsmen programme. Their tweens could probably bend her over their knee and break her.

It wasn't entirely laziness on her part either. Her body reformed when it was damaged, never got tired and didn't expire or replicate in any way. While that sounded like a great excuse to lift weights until she was as buff as Hazel, it didn't work that way. Since her muscles didn't break down from use, they didn't recover, rebuild and grow stronger. They didn't atrophy either, which was nice, but less useful when she'd started off a mostly helpless housewife and then been locked into immortality stuck as one.

I have the siege catapults up and the city is surrounded. I'm sure this was what Ozma used to do. I don't exactly have a battering ram but those Ursa at the front are smashing their faces into the gate so that probably counts. Now all I need is for them to surrender and –

"What on…?" Hazel peered through a pair of binoculars. "Arc is on the wall waving a flag. I think… I think it says `parlay`. Does he really expect us to stop the attack to-"

"Stop the attack!" Salem ordered immediately.

"What-? But we're pressing them…"

"Hazel. Hazel. Hazel. One who is skilled in warfare principles subdues the enemy without doing battle, takes the enemy's walled city without attacking." Salem recited. "And am I not the mastermind of this invasion? Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

She really didn't.

/-/

"Calling for a parlay," Ironwood groaned. "Against the Grimm, no less. This is madness, even for you."

"All the ancient texts suggest this happened in war." Jaune kept waving the flag. It wasn't white for a surrender, so the other huntsmen on the walls were only confused and not alarmed. That confusion only grew when the Grimm backed off and stopped attacking. "According to Oobleck most wars were so devastating in terms of loss of life that they carried on until one side surrendered. The leaders might constantly meet to try and discuss terms and convince the others to surrender."

"Madness." Ironwood shook his head but did address Winter. "Use this chance. Have everyone evacuated from the walls and fresh huntsmen brought up. We'll never get a better chance to switch the front lines than this."

"Yes sir."

"And you, Arc. I hope you know what you're doing."

"Trust me. I know."

He really didn't.

Salem approached the section of wall he was on for a second time, and for a second time none of them bombarded her position with artillery. He wasn't sure it would have worked and it would have surely prevented her agreeing to this again – and to be honest if he could pull this off repeatedly, stalling every time, they could switch the huntsmen on the wall without risking a retreat. It was better to not attack and cause her reason to mistrust them.

"Well, well, well," Salem crowed up to them. "Not even a single day and you're already calling to parlay. Has my Grimm bombardment left you cowering so?"

"Does she mean the Beringel thrown Grimm?" Ironwood mused. "They've done nothing…"

"Yes!" Jaune called down to her. "Yes, they've been absolutely horrid!"

"Excellent. Ha ha. I knew they would be. Grimm unleashed in your city, rampaging through your streets. You must be pushed to the limit just dealing with them!"

"You fiend!" Jaune roared and shook his fist for good measure. Beside him, Ironwood rolled his eyes and roman studiously focused on his cigar so as not to burst out laughing. "You've crossed a line with this, Salem. I'm here to demand you stop hurling Grimm into the city. It's causing untold devastation!"

Shattered windows, potholes and even the occasional bent lamp post. Not to mention the absolute mess they left on landing, though that handled itself since the Grimm dissolved. He was thankful for the height of the walls because Salem must have been unable to see his face or pick out the sound of Roman's sniggering.

"Stop?" she taunted. "I think not. In fact I may just increase the bombardment."

"No!" Jaune gasped. "Not more Grimm thrown at us! Please, I beg you, attack our huntsmen on the walls instead!"

"You would like that, wouldn't you? Hmph. The bombardment shall continue. Unless, of course, you wish to tender your surrender right now? I am not so cruel that I wouldn't accept it. Open your gates, lay down your arms and we can move right onto processing your people."

"This again?" Ironwood muttered. "Let me bombard her position."

"It won't kill her."

"It'll shut her up…"

"Are you ignoring me, Jaune of Arc!?" Salem demanded angrily. Or was it anger? It sounded more like indignant surprise. Well, she was once a ruler and from what Cinder had said, quite arrogant in her own right. When Cinder Fall called someone arrogant, you knew there was a problem there.

"Not ignoring you," he replied loudly. "Just discussing with my colleagues about your offer. I have to give it the proper respect, no?"

"Very well. Discuss. I am pleased you comprehend the hopelessness of your situation."

Jaune shrugged to Ironwood, Winter and Roman, turning away from the wall where she couldn't see him. Salem could only assume they were carefully discussing whether to surrender or not, all the while fresh faced huntsmen jogged up onto the wall and the exhausted ones went down for rest, shaking their heads in confusion as to what was going on. He didn't blame them. None of this was meant to be happening.

"Do we actually discuss anything?" Roman asked.

"Nothing to discuss," Jaune said. "I figure we just stall and waste her time."

"It may actually be worth giving her something." Winter's comment earned horrified looks from each of them. "Think about it, if we let her believe she's gained something from this meeting, won't that encourage her to cease the attack if we call for a second?"

"You have a point." Ironwood stroked his chin. "But that would require giving her something meaningful enough to count as a victory in her books. I'm not sure what that could be that we wouldn't regret handing over. There's no point making our lives harder than they already are."

Roman leaned over to whisper in Jaune's ear. He listened, sighed and then asked, "You really think that'll work…?"

"Worth a shot, ain't it?"

He supposed it was, though Glynda and Ozpin might have disagreed. Sighing, he stepped up to the edge of the walls so that Salem could see him once more. The woman in black stared up with eyes that were pinpricks of red light. "Well?" she demanded. "Have you made your decision?"

"We would like to negotiate for a lull in the assault."

"A lull…? Why should I agree to that? It only benefits you."

"In exchange for a twenty-four-hour break, we would be willing to officially change the name `Beacon Academy` to the `Ozma Sucks Academy` for the duration of the invasion." Jaune could imagine Ozpin howling angrily in the distance.

Salem looked surprised but not against the idea. "Only for the duration...?"

"Well you're so sure you're going to win so…"

"Fair point. It won't much matter when I break the Ozma Sucks Academy to the ground. Twelve hours! That is all I shall grant you, and then the bombardment will begin anew."

Jaune looked to Ironwood. The General shrugged as if to say it was their academy and their embarrassment on the line, not his. "Any time is good time," he whispered. "If it gets Cinder and Team RWBY closer to the Relic."

"How about eighteen hours but you can continue with the Grimm-a-pult bombardment?" Jaune called back. "That sound fair?"

"You have yourself a deal!"

/-/

"How do you think things are going at Beacon?" Ruby asked.

The group of five had stopped to make camp in the shade of a large purple rock overhanging a big purple expanse of what Yang had already furiously called the most purple landscape she'd ever had the misfortune of seeing. According to Cinder, it didn't get any less weirdly coloured further in, purple apparently and rather arbitrarily being the colour of purest evil. Blake would have disagreed seeing as she liked her purple stockings, but when the Grimmlands itself was camouflaging with your legs, it was time for a change.

Maybe something with belts, she thought. Belts were cool. At least Coco seemed to think, wearing two, and she was the coolest person in Beacon according to the annual most eligible bachelor and bachelorette listings that went around school. Jaune had scored top for the guys to the surprise of very few people. Being young, strong and a teacher had earned him a lot of brownie points.

"I imagine it is a medley of blood and gore." Cinder said snidely. "Screams of the dying mingling with the roars of Grimm victorious over their human foes. By now, the streets must be running red with the blood of the fallen."

Yang poked the small fire that was hidden by the outcropping behind them. A few sparks splashed over Cinder's legs in what Yang would have sworn was a total accident. Honest. "I'm sure it's fine, sis. It's not been long enough for anything bad to have happened. I'd say we're in a worse spot."

"This land is so bizarre." Weiss said. "Colour aside, I'm sure I saw dust outcrops piercing out the ground earlier, some taller than I am. Do you have any idea how much that would be worth?" She could see that they did not. "Tens of millions. At least!"

"Whoah." Yang was suddenly much more interested. "You think we should bring some back with us? For testing, I mean. Or souvenirs. Ah sod it, momma needs a new motorbike. Bumblebee has been getting lonely all on her own."

"You named your bike Bumblebee?" Cinder asked. Her eyes slid to Blake and she snorted. "How telling."

"Yeah, no. I owned my bike before I did Blake."

Blake scowled. "You don't own me, Yang."

"And why are you on my ass all the time?" Yang asked Cinder. "You can be a jealous bitch toward Blake, too. You realise she gets super-secret alone time with Jaune, like, every other night? Won't even tell us what she does up there with him."

That damned traitor!

"As if." Cinder snorted. "Behind every great man is two great women. One to lead, rely on and to share a bed with, the second to handle the paperwork." To Blake's utmost horror, Cinder offered her a respectful nod of her head. "I will not begrudge the one who will make my life easier later."

"Oh no. No. I am not continuing the work I do now for the rest of my life. I'm going to be a huntress!" Blake declared. "I'm going to die with weapon in hand surrounded by Grimm, not buried in requisition forms. I refuse it!"

"Do you believe in destiny, Blake…?"

"My destiny isn't to be a desk jockey!"

"Hmm." Cinder purred contentedly. "We shall see."

"Blake's secretarial future aside," Weiss said, ignoring Blake's petulant whine that she was a huntress. "How far are we from this tower? I've not been able to see it, but I'm not sure how well a tower would stand out against this landscape. It's not purple, is it?"

"No. Black."

"Of course it is." Yang snorted. "Evil tower and all."

"Really more of a `available masonry` thing," Cinder remarked flippantly. "Do you see an abundance of stone around here that isn't black or purple? Or did you expect Salem, Queen of the Grimm, to import limestone from Vacuo to cater to your sensibilities? I'd love to see the delivery man's face. To answer your question, we should only be a day out from it if we wet at full march. However, there are bound to be Grimm along the way, and we'll be best suited taking it slowly and staying undetected. If we use our aura out here, the Grimm will converge on us."

"Grimm sense aura?" Weiss asked. "Since when?"

"It's always been that way."

"No, it hasn't. Grimm sense negativity. It's never before been mentioned that they sense aura. If they did, why would we ever unlock it?"

"Always been that way," Cinder said doggedly. "Don't question."

"Fine." Huffing, Weiss let it go. It didn't really matter here and now. "Then what, we rest for tonight and head out tomorrow, camping halfway? You were the one determined to be in charge, Cinder. Give us some orders."

"I order you to use your own brains."

"That's not leadership!"

"Leadership is knowing when and where to delegate." Cinder rolled over onto her side, showing her back to them and laying down. "Since I'm the Winter Maiden and the best combatant here, I need my rest. You four sort a guard schedule out between you."

"You know," Yang grumbled. "If I killed you right now, I'd be the maiden…"

"I'm thinking of Neo. You wouldn't be." Cinder growled under her breath, "Thinking of wrapping my hands around that manstealing bitch's throat and choking the life out of her. What does she have that I don't other than a stupid hairstyle? I have height. I have a voice."

"Maybe it's how you use that voice that is the problem," Blake pointed out.

Cinder gave them the middle finger, pulled a blanket over herself and went to sleep.

"Bitch." Yang muttered. "Gah. Fine. Guess I'll take first watch unless anyone else wants?"

"Dibbs on last!" Ruby said.

"Third," Weiss echoed, leaving Blake to reluctantly accept second. In her mind the worst since it meant getting a tiny amount of sleep before being woken up. Stupid mission to the Grimmlands. Stupid Cinder. Stupid Nevermore-

"Nevermore!" Blake cried, pointing.

The bird looked as startled as she, flapping its wings and cawing in alarm. Yang and Weiss shrieked with it, diving for their weapons. Ruby was quicker, rolling over, snatching Crescent Rose and planting a single heavy calibre round through its skull. As the loud crack of the shot echoed across the Grimmlands, Blake was reminded of a philosophical question about a tree falling in the woods with no one around, and whether it would make a sound.

Crescent Rose did make a sound. Quite a loud sound, it turned out. And as it echoed and bounded off all the tall spires and dust crystals, carrying on into the absolute silence of the Grimmlands, it turned out philosophy was false. Or that they'd just never been alone in the first place. Howls, roars and angry screeches echoed for what felt like a thousand miles.

Ruby winced. "Um. Got it…?"

"Five minutes." Cinder snarled, rolling out her blanket with eyes shining magically. "I can't leave you idiots alone for five whole minutes." Crackling wind swirling around her, Cinder Fall stood as the Grimm converged. "Get ready to fight. And try not to die. I have a feeling I'll be blamed for that."

Blake sighed and picked up Gambol Shroud, shooting a guilty Ruby a sympathetic smile.

At least she'd gotten out of second watch.

The "always has been" meme was tossed in as reference to what I'm told is the newly established rules that Grimm actually hunt humans based on aura and either no longer negativity, or both aura and/or negativity. Gotta love those retcons, especially when they don't feel necessary. Negativity is such a normal part of even happy people that you could just claim it's always present in some small account if you needed Grimm to be actively in a scene.

And poor Salem. She was just a lonely girl trapped in a tower, remember. That's probably not conductive to a good education, especially in matters of warfare. She was just a young woman in love unwilling to accept that her lover had died, and now she's stuck in a job she has no experience in. Sort of like a certain headmaster.

Next Chapter: 10th September

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