Howdy folks, how's it going?

I hope you all are doing well in these difficult times of quarantines and isolation, and I hope that this update will help at least some of you in getting through this.

As always, a shout out to my bud Chaos Productions for his help and commentary.

And as always, I own neither RWBY nor The Elder Scrolls. If I did, Ace Ops wouldn't show such infuriatingly blind loyalty in the former and we'd have more information on TES 6 by now.

And with that, on with the show.

/

"So, allow J'Zargo to see if he got this right," J'Zargo started, arms crossed as he stood looking distinctly uncomfortable inside the elevator that was carrying the four of them down the tower of Beacon, after listening to Tristard's quick summary of what exactly was going on. "Only four people on the entirety of this world are actually capable of using magic, and to a vast majority of the populace, even that is little more than a myth?"

"To the best of what my research into the matter revealed, aye." Tristard confirmed.

"…J'Zargo thinks that this world is stupid." The khajiit concluded bluntly, earning him a disapproving stare from Serana given the present company.

"I think it's fair to say that we've been in enough such situations to know better than to just dismiss this "myth" as such." She voiced her own opinion, with fairly good reason given the circumstances behind which the trio had first met. Tristard for his part, ignored the catfolk's words with practiced ease, turning his gaze towards Ozpin.

"An astute observation, Miss Volkihar." The Headmaster spoke, giving very little away as he stared towards the door.

"Call me Serana, please. I am not terribly fond of my family name." Understatement of the century, that was.

"Of course, my apologies." The man conceded politely. "But yes, you are quite correct in your assumptions, as will be made clear quite shortly."

Despite the words, the Dragonborn could not help but wonder. Even with his lacking grasp on the exact mechanisms that operated the contraption they were currently on, he was quite certain that they had been travelling longer than should be needed to reach the tower's base, which could only mean they were headed deeper beneath the Academy…

Sure enough, a few moments later their descent ceased, the door opening into a hall, poorly illuminated by large, green-glowing panels along the walls. It was massive, cavernous in a way that had the archmage wondering how the structural integrity of the building above hadn't been threatened by it.

"Well, as vaults hidden beneath the earth go, this is by far the most spacious J'Zargo has seen-" The khajiit's commentary ceased has his eyes, well adapted to seeing in dark places (a boon to the faunus disguise they sought to keep), focused on a strange object at the far end of the hall. "…Azurah's grace, what is that?"

Ozpin did not immediately reply, instead making to walk through the vault, clearly intending for the trio to follow him. There was an air of hesitation to the man that Tristard had not seen before.

"I am afraid I was not entirely truthful to you when we first met, Mr. Soverick." He spoke as they walked, sounding genuinely apologetic. "While it's been shrouded in myth throughout the ages, and, to my knowledge, never has been quite like what your folk command, magic has existed in this world. The Maidens do exist. They are a well-kept secret, one I have taken steps to ensure remains hidden, for in times past there have always been people that sought them and their power out for their own, less than selfless purposes."

"Kron was well enough aware of it, though." The dragonborn mused on the bastard's final rant. "He mentioned a "her". Could he have encountered one of them before?"

"J'Zargo is guessing that the secret might not be so secret anymore." The khajiit commented with his usual lack of tact, earning him a smack upside the head from the Archmage.

"No, I suppose it is not." Ozpin replied at length, a musing expression on his face as he seemed to come to a realization. "The man used to operate from the kingdom of Mystral. The last known sighting of the Spring Maiden was from there. Seems like a fitting enough explanation… But a thought for another time. For now, there's this."

They were coming closer now, and as they did Serana visibly tensed, Tristard quick to realise that what had drawn the khajiit's confusion and the vampire's worry seemed to be some sort of… tombs?

At least it certainly seemed to give that impression, if not for the glass panel that revealed the figure seemingly slumbering in one of the smooth, white caskets.

"Amber Herbst." The Headmaster said, voice thick with weariness, resignation and, Tristard believed, no small amount of guilt. "The current Fall Maiden."

The dragonborn considered the slumbering woman. Brown hair, tanned skin, a fair face, if marred by an odd, burn-like scarring. The only indicator she yet lived was the occasional twitch to her eyes and lips, almost as if she was dreaming an unpleasant dream. "Current?"

"Yes," Came the tired reply. "The power of the maidens is… hereditary, of a sort. When the previous maiden passes, by combat or by age, the power will generally transfer itself to the last eligible vessel in her thoughts. Amber is but the last in a long line."

A curious system, Tristard found. The most immediate thought to come to mind was that it reminded him almost of a much more controllable and directed version of how draconic souls tended to interact with each other… But that was besides the point for now.

"And what has befallen the girl?" Serena asked in a quiet tone, orange eyes almost shining with concern and sympathy. She was intimately familiar with the feeling of being trapped in a coffin.

"…I honestly do not know." The headmaster admitted ruefully. "And it would seem, I did not do enough. I was content to let Amber travel freely throughout the kingdom, thinking her safe and capable of defending herself. It… proved to be a mistake. There was an attack, and Amber was overwhelmed. An agent of mine managed to intervene at the very last moment, but the damage was done, and she has been comatose since."

"And I suppose this was not the work of mere bandits." The dragonborn mused.

"No," Came the immediate reply. "Whoever attacked was targeting her specifically for her power… And we know this, because they were partially successful."

"Come again?"

"At this point, Amber holds only half of the Fall Maiden's power." There was a long, tired sigh. "I had never before heard of such an occurrence, but all the readings of the machinery you see around you have pointed towards this conclusion."

Tristard could not help but raise a confused eyebrow at the admission. That… indeed did not sound like magic as he knew it. Certainly, one's ability to call upon the magicka and how much they were physically capable of wielding tended to vary from individual to individual, but anyone had the potential to wield it in one way or the other. Power transfers of this sort… he really had only one point of reference.

"I'd guess you've gone through such great lengths of secrecy to keep whoever did the deed at bay." Serana mused, receiving a nod of confirmation from the Headmaster. "Why show her to us then? Seems counterproductive."

"From a certain perspective, I can see why it might." Ozpin admitted. "And to be perfectly honest, I would have preferred to have kept this under wraps. But Mr. Soverick has proven himself to be perceptive, and he's proven himself to be a reliable enough person to be trusted with the information. The fact that he obviously trusts you, and the fact that, in all honesty, the three of you are very far removed from the situation, has prompted me to show trust in return."

"That's all well and good." J'Zargo butted in. "But J'Zargo fails to see how it answers the question."

"Honestly, another part of the reason was that I was hoping you could help." The Headmaster admitted, his gaze turning to the sleeping maiden with a weary sadness. "Nothing we have done has managed to rouse her. Even if the sorcery you wield is an outlier in this world, I was hoping you might be able to do something."

There was a look to his face now, one that Tristard recognized. The look of a man who desperately wanted to avoid something yet was running out of options…

The dragonborn shared glances with his companions, an unspoken conversation going on through their eyes alone, all three nodding in agreement. With the headmaster's tacit permission, the trio approached the casket, the vampire and the khajiit at either side and Tristard standing before it.

As one, the trio closed their eyes in focus, and rose their hands towards the still woman, Serana's glowing with purple mist, J'Zargo's with green sparks, and Tristard's with golden light. As a low thrum of power mirrored the one coming from the machinery around the room as they pooled their efforts into examining the maiden, willing the magicka forth to probe, examine and heal-

"Sheor's bones…" Tristard hissed, taking a step back and swiping his hand away as if it had been burnt, his expression positively aghast, a reaction that was shared by the other two as they too recoiled away.

"What's wrong?" Ozpin inquired with no small amount of alarm. Which did not diminish in the slightest as he noticed the shocked horror in the dragonborn's face give way to a silent fury. The catman and the black-haired woman, both frowning, hesitated briefly.

"Physically, there is nothing wrong with her." Serana eventually replied, sounding vaguely disgusted. "And she does hold within her a considerable well of power. The problem…"

"Is in her soul." J'Zargo concluded, for once sounding absolutely serious.

"…How so?" The headmaster asked, already fairly certain he was not going to like the answer.

"Whoever managed to claim the maiden's power," Tristard answered, a faint, growling undertone to his stern voice. "Drained more than just it. Ozpin, this woman has a literal hole in her soul."

"No wonder she is unresponsive." The catman followed. "In fact, it's a wonder the soul isn't tearing apart at the seams. It's like some great beast tore out a part of it."

Ozpin did not immediately respond to the words, but his reaction, while subdued, was anything but uncaring. The man closed his eyes, and with the heavy shadow of grief on his expression, he looked older now than any man had a right to be.

"Is there anything that can be done?" He asked at length, a faint trace of pleading in his tone.

"I am unsure." The archmage answered, no longer growling, but still very much angry. Ozpin did not miss how the black-haired woman placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You must understand, Ozpin, in our world, the power of the soul can be used as fuel for sorcery. The enchantments placed upon my axe, for one, feed upon this power to function. For another, it is part of my nature as Dragonborn, adding the might of the vanquished dragons' souls to my own, but I have no control over that. What we're are witnessing here, however, is an abomination that none but the most insane or black-hearted of sorcerers would do. Tapping into sentient souls is… Sadly not entirely prohibited, but heavily frowned upon. I myself have taken harsh steps in ensuring the likes of such practices never stain the grounds of our college." His eyes fell on the sleeping face, a sad, pitying depth to them. "And yet, I have never seen a soul so wounded as this."

"As to whether something can be done," Serana continued, as the dragonborn fell into a pensive silence. "That would depend on factors we are not aware of and others we have little control over. Surely, the simplest and most effective way would be to find the thief and observe how the transfer works from their end. Killing them is as likely to cause the power to rush to be whole again, or send half of it flying towards the next host."

"And that's making a lot of assumptions about how the transfer actually works." J'Zargo continued. "Whether the soul being transferred along is natural to the cycle or forced in this one instance. We simply don't have enough to go on here."

"I see…" The headmaster breathed out despondently, his face twisting into a grimace as if he was struggling to get out the words that came next. "What do you believe would happen if… a transfer was attempted?"

Slowly, all three beings not of this world turned to stare at the headmaster, the faint flickers of confusion very quickly giving way to a grim understanding of what was really being asked.

"Is that why there are two caskets?" Tristard asked gravely.

"…I am afraid so." The man replied, in a tone of loathing and weariness. "The equipment you see around you, has been provided by an old friend and ally of mine, who is equally aware of the situation and sworn to secrecy. Theoretically, it should allow for the magic to be transferred from one host to another."

"Even if it costs this girl her life?" Serana nearly hissed, clearly displeased, which cause the headmaster to wince.

"Believe me, I brought the issue to your attention precisely because I wished to do anything in my power to avoid such an outcome." Was the sincere, genuine reply. "Amber's condition is largely my fault, and I would like nothing more than to be able to save her. But regardless of that, I need to be aware of all possibilities and venues. With half the power in the hands of someone no doubt with nefarious purposes, and the other in no position to do anything, I fear the Kingdom may be vulnerable to further attacks. Much as I don't want to consider it, I need to be aware of all my options."

Tristard considered the words carefully. Experience had taught him well enough to know that the headmaster was being truthful, and acting only as a leader should. It also told him that despite this show of trust on his part, the man was still not telling them everything. The thought soured the dragonborn's mood further, for a great deal of the frustrations he felt during his life had been fruit of withheld information at crucial points. Despite these misgivings, however, the breton decided that Ozpin meant well enough. He could recognize a man trapped in a difficult position with few good choices when he saw one. He decided that he would continue giving the man the benefit of the doubt, for now.

"I understand your position, Ozpin." He replied somberly, a steely edge to his tone. "But I would… advise against such a measure. At best, you'd destroy her soul with such thoroughness it'd be as if she never lived. At worst, you could be condemning her to an eternity of torment in a twisted mockery of an afterlife. Believe me, it is not worth the risk."

For a long, long while, no one spoke, the two men, equals in rank if nothing else, stared at each other, judging, measuring.

…

…

…

"…No." Ozpin broke the silence first, his tone laced with finality. "It is not. What would you have me do then?"

"For now, I'd ask that you allow us to monitor her condition for the foreseeable future." The dragonborn replied, a feeling of relief washing over him for managing to get his point across. "There is the chance that we can figure out some sorcery that'll help. More than that, I cannot promise."

"…That is fair enough." The headmaster conceded. "I would ask, however, that you keep this matter from the rest of the students. I would like to keep them uninvolved if at all possible."

Tristard could easily read between the lines here.

"…Did you intend for one of them to be the new host?"

"I would be lying if I said the thought didn't cross my mind." The older man admitted, sounding at once apologetic, regretful, and ashamed. "But given your learned opinion on the matter, that is off the table for now. I would have to be a very desperate man indeed to go through with it."

/

So, this was Vale, uh?

Quaint looking place, if Emerald was being honest. Tall buildings, people walking around the streets, going about their perfect little lives with nary a care in the world, not once even considering how easily things could fall part, just how fragile it all actually was. Eh, whatever, content little sheep made for easy marks, not that there was anyone in this town that she wouldn't be able to rob blind.

Take the old man she'd just relieved of his wallet, for instance. How easily he fell for a little awkward smile and an excuse of not being a local, she didn't even need to use her semblance. It would have been insulting if she had actually cared about such things as proving her skill.

All in all, the thief was not impressed.

"So, this is Vale, uh?" Her musings were interrupted by the very annoying voice of her… current associate, made all the more annoying by how he seemed to be mirroring her thoughts. "Gotta say, I'm not impressed. Place looks dull as all hell."

"Mercury," The green-haired girl breathed out, levelling an aggravated glare at the smug prick. "Do me a favor, and shut up."

"Kinda moody today, aren't we?" Mercury retorted cheekily, clearly enjoying how much he was getting on her nerves. "What's the matter? Big Master Thief not feeling comfortable out in the open?"

Not for the first time, Emerald found herself weighing the pros and cons of shooting her "partner" in the face. She knew why she was needed in this operation, but for the life of her she couldn't fathom how he could be useful. Ultimately, she decided against it, wasn't really her call to make, and cathartic as it'd be, she doubted the boss would appreciate it very much.

"Let's just get this over with." She grumbled, shaking her head as she kept walking.

"Yeeesh, who pissed in your cereal?" The bastard just kept going, clearly not taking the hint. She'd have considered paying him to shut his trap if she wasn't fairly certain he'd be all smug at getting under her skin, and it just wasn't worth it proving him right.

"So, how much further?" The grey-haired bastard asked, changing the topic towards more serious matters.

"If the old man's indications are anything to go by, a couple or so more blocks." She answered, if only for the sake of professionalism.

"And are we sure we wanna do this?" Was the follow up question, not out of any hesitation or concern, but out of genuine curiosity. "I mean, I don't mind doing my job, but a hit in broad daylight ain't exactly what most people in the business would consider practical."

For once, loathe as she was to admit it, he did have a point.

"This guy already knows he's being hunted." Emerald replied, going through what intel the White Fang had managed to provide, just to make sure she wasn't missing anything. "He's been getting ready to get out of Vale for a while, and this is the best window of opportunity we'll have before he goes off the grid. It's fairly early in the morning, so it's unlikely there'll be witnesses. We deal with this, it'll tie up a loose end, meaning one less concern for Cinder and one more opportunity to stick it to that asshole in the bowler hat."

"Well, consider me convinced." A grin Emerald really did not like spread across his stupid face. "Don't think I don't know what this is really about though. Looking to get some praise from the boss like a good little daughter, how cute."

The green-haired girl refused to dignify that with any answer other than a withering glare, which did at last shut him up but failed to wipe that smug smirk off his face. Focus, she told herself, just do what you came here to do and ignore the jackass.

Pretty soon the duo had arrived at the intended location, a little bookstore rather uninspiredly named "Tukson's Book Trade". You'd think the guy would know better than to use his true name if he was trying to keep a low profile. Ah well, it just made tracking him down all that much easier. The duo shared a glance, all bickering and arguing momentarily put aside for the sake of getting things done, and with a nod, she opened the door and-

-Fuck.

Contrary to her expectations, the bookstore was not deserted. A trio of people was already there, browsing calmly through the bookshelves.

Who the hell comes to a bookstore this early in the morning on a freaking Saturday?!

And the worst part was, she knew who two of them were. The girl in a borderline goth outfit with a ridiculous bow on top of her black hair, very poorly hiding the cat ears beneath, and while the guy was lacking the creepy ass robes and golden mask, that tattooed face didn't leave much room for error.

After the clusterfuck at the docks, Cinder was quick, and very insistent, in trying to dig up as much information about the meddlers as she could, so Emerald was at least able to put a name to the faces.

Blake Belladonna and Tristard Soverick, two of the Beacon students that had caused the whole heist to go up in flames, quite literally in the latter's case.

For a brief moment, the thief was worried. What the fuck were these two doing here? Could the leak they had come here to deal with have been their source? Was he even now, feeding them intel on the White Fang's activity?

No, it didn't seem likely, she realized as she noted they were at the kid's books' section, patiently waiting as the cute little girl accompanying them, hugging her own large, fluffy, raccoon tail, seemed to be browsing the selection. Seemingly noticing eyes upon her, the kid turned to look Emerald right in the eye, then shyly half-hid herself behind the guy's legs. The hell, was she their daughter or something…?

The kid's distress didn't go unnoticed, as the guy glanced back in their direction, and nodded in way of a greeting.

"Good morning." He said politely, then with an encouraging pat on the girl's head, turned back to the shelves and gave the duo no further thought.

Emerald and Mercury were standing at the entrance, briefly glancing at each other as they tried to figure out what their next step should be, when the door to the backroom opened, and into the store came their mark, the man fumbling as he struggled to carry two massive piles of books.

"Welcome to Tukson's Book Trade, home to-woah!" As he was greeting the new arrivals, Tukson stumbled, barely managing to hold himself upright but loosing his grip on the books, which began toppling almost in slow motion.

And Emerald couldn't help but stare in surprise as, without even turning to look at the soon-to-be mess, the Soverick guy threw a suddenly orange glowing hand in its general direction, and the books just slowly floated towards the store's counter, neatly piling themselves up on top of it.

"Phew, thanks for that, kid."

"Think nothing of it."

"Right so, sorry about that." Tukson turned back to the duo with an apologetic smile, though Emerald did not miss the suspicious glint that flashed through his eyes for a split second. "Welcome to Tukson's Book Trade, home to every book under the sun. What can I help you with?"

"Oh, don't worry about it. And we're just here to browse, really." Emerald replied, wearing a genial smile like a mask, which seemed to do the trick, before a thought struck her. "Although, if you have The Thief and the Butcher, that would be great."

"Yeah, sure, I got it. On your left, middle row, third shelf." The man replied, a little less suspicious now. Emerald noticed that was right next to where the Beacon duo was. There might be an opportunity there…

Nodding gratefully, the green-haired girl moved to the indicated spot, while Mercury meandered around the rows until he found himself by the comic book stands, because of course that'd be about the one thing in this place he'd show any interest towards, idiot probably couldn't even read properly.

As luck would have it, she found the book, and her current position put her within arm's length of this Soverick guy. Pretending like she was browsing the admittedly pretty expansive selection on offer, the thief waited for a good opportunity…

That came when the Belladonna chick took the kid, now hugging a big picture book rather than her tail, and approached the counter, beginning some meaningless chit-chat with Tukson. Turns out, the two of them seemed to be friends, not surprising for a couple of White Fang "traitors", but nothing seemed to indicate the guy had anything to do with their raid…

Deciding there was little point in speculating, Emerald saw her opportunity and took it. With the Faunus distracted, and her mark's back turned to her, the thief acted. Still making like she was browsing, she surreptitiously approached, focusing on her semblance just enough to ensure the guy wouldn't notice her. Then, with the nimbleness that only a lifetime out in the streets could have taught, she nabbed the guy's wallet from his pocket. She smirked in satisfaction when the guy gave no indication of having noticed, focused on a book from some old fantasy series now in his hands. Good, this might help them learn more about the guy. For how much Cinder and Torchwick's associates had tried, there was little information on Soverick readily available other than his being a student at Beacon.

She quickly pocketed her prize, about turned, nabbed the book she'd asked for, and went for the counter.

"I'll take this one, please." She requested with a smile. She was kind of annoyed that she was going to be forced to buy it rather than just taking it as she had originally planned, but a book was harder to keep hidden than a wallet, and she needed to keep up appearances. Plus, hey, it was actually good enough reading to be worth it.

Her purchase done, the green-haired girl returned to her partner's side, noticing as she did the look he was giving her, asking without words whether they should still go ahead with it. To be honest, she had considered it. With her Semblance, they had a good chance of getting the drop on the meddlers. Heck, maybe even trick one of them into doing the job for them, which would kill two nevermores with one dust round. But they had just as good a chance at blowing it, and blowing their cover in the ensuing fight, sending much of Cinder's plan down the drain. Still, she considered it, even as she glanced back…

…And once again saw the shy little kid, who had nothing to do with all of this.

Now, as ironic as it might be given her semblance, Emerald was under no delusions of being a good person, or keeping the company of good people, or even working for a good cause. She was what she was, and she had long since accepted it.

Still, she liked to believe that she had at least enough standards not to directly put little children in harm's way.

She stared back at Mercury, faintly shaking her head, carrying the message across loud and clear enough that the grey-haired moron just accepted it with a shrug.

Their original purpose botched, and with a small consolation prize, the duo left Tukson's Book Trade without another word.

/

"Ah, the kids return from their little date at last." That jackass Torchwick greeted them mockingly as the duo finally returned to the warehouse by day's end. Pompous prick.

"He wishes." Emerald retorted with a disgusted sneer and a thumb pointing at Mercury, earning her an annoyed glare from her partner.

"Ouch, shot down with such finality." The thief proclaimed with mocking sympathy as he approached, throwing his arms around the duo like they were old chums. "Young love sure can be painful, wouldn't you say? Sure takes me back…"

"Please, keep the details to yourself." She shivered. "I do not need that mental image."

"Have it your way, street rat." Roman replied carelessly as he let go of them, not deigning to acknowledge her glare. "I, on the other hand, would actually like to hear some details about where the hell have you been all day."

"And we should tell you, why?" Mercury challenged, and for once Emerald was in agreement.

"Fine, be that way," The self-proclaimed master criminal sighed theatrically, before bringing up something in his hand. "Perhaps this will help me shed some light on it."

"What the…?" Emerald couldn't help but mutter in confusion. She suddenly realized that the bastard had gone through her pockets!

"I'm a professional, brat." He grinned at her cheekily. "You are decades too early to pull one over on me, now then…"

It was then, that with mounting confusion, the thief realized that what the bowler hat jackass was holding was not a wallet, but rather a folded piece of… parchment paper?

Sifting through her pockets just to make sure, she realized that Soverick's wallet was gone.

What the fuck?!

Roman, for his part, just begun reading the thing, and as his eyes ran through the lines he grew so absorved that he didn't even seem to mind as Mercury curiously leaned over and began reading over his shoulder…

…Then, to Emerald's complete and utter confusion, the two men suddenly burst into a fit of uproarious laughter. They cackled so loud the heads of every White Fang grunt in the base turned their way in surprise, so hard that they both had to lean on each other for support lest they fall over.

"…The fuck's wrong with you two?" Emerald couldn't help but ask, getting no response from the two morons, as she picked up the fallen paper and tried to see what was so damn funny-

"To the fair lady thief.

Firstly, allow me to commend you on your skills. You show a lot of promise in this humble, oft misunderstood craft. A near perfect sense of timing, the incredible lightness and nimbleness of your fingers as you went about your work, and the quite excellent façade of normalcy you kept throughout the entire process. All in all, it was quite an exquisite performance, and I simply must applaud you for it.

However, that is not to say it wasn't without a few flaws. You were a little too eager to walk away once the deed was done, which gave you away entirely. Your smile, while dazzling, was just a bit too much to be entirely genuine. And your biggest mistake of all, you picked me for a target, and I have forgotten more about pickpocketing than you'll likely ever learn.

Once you were out in the street again, I took the liberty of claiming back my wallet, as well as relieve yours of the generous amount of money it carried, which I have reason to believe does not actually belong to you. Consider this as an incentive for improvement, and should you wish to match skills again, by all means, seek me out at Beacon Academy, where I'll eagerly await to evaluate further performances.

Yours truly,

A better thief than you."

…

…

…

That. Fucking. Bastard…

"May I know just what is so amusing?" A calm, female voice inquired from above, in a tone at once polite and demanding obedience, heralding the arrival of her boss.

…Fuck.

/

One does not simply try to pickpocket a Dragonborn and expect to get away with it. It just ain't done.

And so we start delving into volume 2. Took me long enough. At this rate I should be done with the story before the end of the century.

That's something right?

Next up, in April, I'll be doing the next update to 'Ere We Go, Pluz Ultra!, so look forward to that.

Cya' all on the next one, stay safe, and take care.