PRE-CHAPTER A/N:

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...At this point I'm not even going to make excuses. Uh... I'm sorry? Longer note in the post-chapter A/N!

CRUCIAL NOTE HOWEVER: In the wake of recent Volumes of RWBY, I have edited the first Chapter of the story slightly - it's nothing game-changing or breaking, but I urge all of you to give the Schnee Manor scene in the first chapter quick revisionary look-see. It's not crucial - but it is a detail nonetheless!

Other than that, a huge shout-out and word of thanks to Unseen Lurker - for being an invaluable help with this story's continued growth and development, and a massive inspiration to me overall, a massive word of thanks! I highly recommend you check out his RWBY fics, if you haven't already! :D

For now, I hope you all enjoy!

CHAPTER II
Rising Stakes

Still.

That was the word that could best describe Beacon at present. Certainly, there were still gaggles of students mulling around in the sudden absence of authority, and they were all talking as animatedly as usual but there was… a certain unease settled upon the student populace. The sudden cancellation of several key classes was already a surprise in and of itself, in a roster where such things rarely happened – but the fact that all those trainees sporting the odd marks, who'd been the talk of the campus, had been called to the Headmaster's office? That had set minds and tongues alight with fresh words of confusion and conspiracy. The campus wasn't still in action, oh no, but rather in purpose. It was as though everything anyone bothered with had just suddenly… halted, with the advent of the discomforting series of events. And of course, in the void that followed, boredom ensued – as it was wont to do, with hormonal teenagers and excitable young adults.

Or at least, that was how it seemed for one Rain Beckett, as she mulled about the bottom of the steps leading to the vaunted tower crowned by Ozpin's office. Reclining with her back against one of the ornamental statues at the bottom of the stairs, her grey eyes danced across the grounds before her as she boredly wound two fingers through her bright teal hair. With her partner helping out in the library and those other two idiots playing hooky in Downtown Vale, she had some time to herself.

Sucked that she wasn't exactly behind on her work, though.

Might as well see what all this commotion was about. Hearing it from one of the sources was a damn side better than all the inane rumours going around, anyway. Whatever the hell was going on, Rain was pretty damn sure it wasn't a secret fight-club, nor some kind of Grimm-worshipping religious cult. Honestly.

Best just to wait it out and see what's what. Coco Adel herself was seen scurrying towards the Headmaster's office, with her whole team in tow, so if it wasn't anything serious Rain would likely be hearing what the story was before the doors even opened, knowing the fashionista.

And if it was serious… Well, then the what's-what could wait. If anyone stepping through that door seemed any kind of shaken, she was backing the hell up and giving them some space.

Until then, the waiting game wasn't going to win itself, and given how curricular activity had all but ground to a halt, there wasn't much for a third-year student to do once training just spontaneously stopped. So she continued to cast a keen eye towards her surroundings, purposefully ignoring any nonsense she could lip-read off those who were gallivanting about in their little gossip-groups. She felt her eye twitch when she picked out the words 'Grimm worship' on some simpleton first-year's lips but it was easy enough to ignore -

She jerked, and stared.

A flicker of the light and a flash of white and red was all the announcement she got before the stranger appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, hunched painfully before the steps leading up to the tower. Even at this distance, with his eyes hidden by the hood of a thick, dusty traveling cloak, she could tell that the man was in pain. Light tremors, the likes of which her trained eyes only barely noticed, shook the pale, sweaty hand that grasped a truly ridiculous weapon, a chimeric abomination of staff, sword, dagger and… harp?

Wait, what the hell…?

It took the sight of the stranger gritting his teeth in pain to finally stir Rain from her spot, and with a wary gait and a hand on her glaive's deployment lever, she slowly made her way towards the drowsy stranger. The man swayed where he stood, as locks of silver hair tumbled down from beneath his hood, swinging lazily in the breeze as some errant locks clung to his sweat-drenched jaw. Eyes narrowed, Rain considered this man – if nothing else, the lack of visible injury possibly ruled out a brawl. She'd reserve that judgement, however, until fortune favoured her with a glance beneath that traveling cloak. That aside, it seemed as though this stranger was suffering of some kind of Aura exhaustion. If his Semblance was related to teleporting it would explain how he just appeared out of nowhere –

A gust, an aftershock in the breeze for some reason that splayed Rain's hair out behind her – and tugged the stranger's cloak away for a moment.

A mere second passed between the way the cape splayed out, and the man hissing as he quickly grabbed at it and pulled it back.

But that second was ample time for Rain to spot the wound.

…Oh shit, she thought, eyes widening at the sight.

Red, deep and vibrant as only copious amounts of blood from a savage wound could be. It sullied the pristine white-and-blue garb she'd caught sight of for a moment, blooming from a gash carved into the man's side that was so stained with blood it appeared black. Questions hung at the back of her mind – like how this man was still standing after taking such a blow, how he was still standing despite seemingly losing so much blood.

But those questions could wait.

She was by the stranger's side before her weapon had even returned to hanging limply from her back, in the absence of her hand on its deployment lever.

"Sir…?" She chanced, placing a steadying hand on the stranger's arm. Immediately the drowsy swaying stopped, and he shook his head slightly, his gaze downcast, shrouded by the hood of his cloak. "Sir, I… I saw your injury. Listen, I know you might have… have…"

She stumbled, then, wondering when exactly the stranger had met her gaze.

The ambient sounds of Beacon faded away into silence as violet suddenly overtook her vision, violet eyes with sclera as black as the night sky. Sensation died at that moment as her mouth moved of its own volition, lips forming gibberish words without sound as she fell, deeper and deeper into the nothingness promised by that purplish glow. The feeling of fabric beneath her fingers, of wind kissing her skin and her hair dancing in the breeze melted away as even her thoughts drifted to nothing, nothing but serenity and peace and the thought that nothing was wrong, there was no reason to be-

She jerked, sensation, thought and awareness crashing into her with enough force to make her stumble slightly as the stranger coughed and placed his hand on hers. "…Careful now," he spoke to her as she blinked away confusion. His voice was strained, strained as the smile on his face, but nonetheless there was a flash of gratitude in his now normal violet eyes. "I think I'm supposed to be the dizzy one in this story, miss," he said somewhat candidly.

Rain shook her head, as all the facts started lining up in her head again. "Wha-What just-"

Violet flared again, the stranger's eyes glowing to match the placid smile on his pained features, and once again Rain shook her head, and quickly wondered - admonished herself for spacing out when someone needed help- "I'm sorry," she mumbled quickly, rubbing at her eyes. "I don't know what… Ugh. Sir, I saw your wound. We… Ahem. If you'll allow me, I'll escort you to the infirmary. We can help you with that injury there – our doctor's one of the best in Vale, I'm sure-"

The stranger squeezed the hand she'd placed on his arm, offering a rueful chuckle. "I'd like nothing more than to be rid of this annoyance, miss," he said honestly. "But… I must decline. Wounds heal, but threats… they don't go away with time. There is a man here – Ozpin, I'm told. I must speak with him."

"Professor Ozpin, uh…" Rain stumbled with her words, gingerly reaching for the hem of the traveling cloak. "He's busy at the moment," she finally said, eyeing the stranger for any sign of objection. Upon finding none but an unusually compliant smile, she pulled the cloak aside and winced slightly as she could study the wound a bit more carefully. She sucked in a breath as she could see split flesh beneath the fabric; to hell with Beacon's infirmary, this guy looked like he needed – to speak with Professor Ozpin, she thought, blinking away the tongues of purple lapping at her peripheral vision. "It's a very urgent matter, but I'm sure he… I'm sure he'll understand that- Ugh," she let go of the cloak, rubbing at her eyes again. Strange… She'd gotten enough rest the previous night hadn't she? "If it's a dangerous Grimm that's roaming about I'm sure one of- one of the other faculty members can help you out until the meeting's done-"

"I assure you it nothing so simple, miss," the stranger said wearily, removing his hand from hers and taking a step back. The traveling cloak slipped from her grasp and fluttered back into place, covering the deep, forearm-length gash that had been hewn into the man's side. "All the questions I've asked point back here. There is no other alternative." Rain's eyes narrowed as she comprehended the words. It was a fucked-up situation, sure, and it sure as hell wasn't the first time a wounded person decided to be stubborn on her watch. Reaching for her scroll to send a message to the faculty, she nonetheless strode forward, intent on not letting this man bleed to death with her near. Resolutely, she met his gaze – his glowing… deep… radiant…

"I must speak with Ozpin."

The voice rang in her ears, seemed to vibrate up and down her spine as the stranger before her hissed and stumbled again. She blinked, once, twice, comprehending it all… before her thoughts organized themselves again, and her eyes were drawn once more to the stranger's injured side. "I… I…" She started, before clearing her throat. "I'm sure Ozpin will understand that this is important," she said finally, her eyes not leaving the obscured wound. If something that could cause such a wound, likely through Aura, was lurking about, and it wasn't a Grimm? That was dire news – news Rain was absolutely certain Ozpin would want to know…

"I'll… I'll take you to him, sir," she said finally, resolutely. "This way."

Although the urge to do so was becoming almost frightfully tempting, Weiss Schnee decided not to chew on the inside of her cheek to allay some of the tremendous nervousness she was feeling at that moment. She was a Schnee, after all – when under scrutiny it simply wouldn't do to allow onlookers a glimpse into the maelstrom raging within her. It was an arduous task; her limbs ached, she felt weak and hollowed out, her eyes burnt and the back of her hand had erupted into a bout of itching that was near maddening. Her heart raced in her chest and its rhythm echoed in her ears, and only through practiced resolution and refined breathing techniques did she prevent her entire body from trembling like a leaf in a particularly spiteful breeze. No, it wouldn't do to allow others to see her discomfort at all – even as she felt the needle-prick sensation of their gazes hammering into her back.

No, it was foolishness, plain and simply put. She had no reason to be paranoid, or fearful, or concerned, or even nervous. She was at Beacon. She was in Ozpin's office. She was surrounded by people she'd slowly come to view as her friends.

Yes. Friends, she thought blithely. Friends, who I now need to inform… that those tattoos they're sporting are actually… like a binding contract. For an alliance with a Hero. From… another… world… to partake in a war that I don't even know anything about.

"Well, Weiss, 'tis not as though you need to be particularly articulate about the details just yet," a smooth, charming voice flooded her mind, and from her peripheral vision, she could faintly make out the beginnings of a glimmer of light. She pretended to continue gazing out of the window overlooking Beacon, looking every this way and that, until she was certain that Shielder's – Galahad's – presence nearby was absolute. "I am thinking my mere presence would be proof enough. If any doubt lingers that I am… well, otherworldly, I would be happy to prove the contrary."

'The General is here, though,' Weiss thought-murmured – was that even a proper word? – in response. Her clear blue eyes flitted over Beacon's courtyard. She could feel the tension in the room behind her – obvious, since there were easily more than twenty antsy people present, all of whom were quite eager to hear what 'grand discovery' she had made regarding the strange marks that had appeared literally overnight. 'I trust him, but… it's not every day a Knight just materializes from thin air. For all we know he could try to arrest you!'

A sensible chuckle was the Knight's response – as though he found the very idea of one of the most powerful men in Atlas trying to arrest him as obtuse, ridiculous even. "He is more than welcome to try, my lady. This world, I see, seems to know little of magecraft. I highly doubt there are bonds in this building that could hold me."

Someone behind her cleared their throat – one of the faculty members, probably, going by the gruffness of the tone – and Weiss' heart lurched just a bit. Keeping her eyes pinned on a tree near the edge of the courtyard that suddenly seemed very interesting at that moment, she fidgeted with the fresh bandage that now adorned her hand. The marks of command, as Galahad called them, were no longer bleeding – now they just itched, for some reason. 'Well… I suppose we should get this over with, right?' Weiss thought-murmured as she toyed with the edge of the gauze. 'Likely they'll have questions… and you'll have answers… I get the feeling I won't be getting any rest any time soon…'

"Rest is sadly a rarity in the starting days of a chaotic Grail War, my lady," the Knight responded sagely. "Usually those days are spent planning, scouting, learning. Sans the scouting, that seems to be the schedule here – and it's promising to be more rigid than usual."

'Of course,' Weiss responded despondently. 'Warrior from another world. Why would it be simple?'

"If it is any consolation, Weiss," Galahad responded, an audible smirk on his lips, "I'm frequently told struggle builds character."

'Okay… Okay. I can do this. I am a Schnee. I can do this.' With a soft huff, she turned around to face the assembled room, her bandaged hand toying with the lapels of the bolero she wore. Assembled before here was not only the entire tattooed congregation of Beacon Academy, including the faculty members and Ozpin, but several people of importance had been invited to attend as well. General Ironwood stood rigidly beside Professor Ozpin, and at the back of the gaggle of students Weiss could even make out Professor Peach's shocking pink hairdo. Despite her most valiant efforts to remain confident, however, she allowed herself a gulp of nervousness as she took a few steps forward.

Ozpin, ever vigilant, seemed to take the lead. "Gathered your thoughts, Miss Schnee?" He asked cordially. "If you need more time, you are welcome to it. Take as long as you need."

"I… No. No, Professor, that won't be necessary," Weiss responded smoothly, squaring her shoulders as her fingers seized the knot of the bandage she had wrapped around her hand. "It was just… It's… It's quite an unbelievable matter, Professor, but… I think I found out what these marks are. I… I don't know everything, but…" She paused, trying to consider her own phrasing. Divulging too little could inspire mistrust, paranoia, even disdain. Divulging too much… Well, that would make her seem like a complete lunatic. She observed the varying expressions of the students before her. The rest of her team seemed every bit as nervous as she was – while Blake masked hers rather well, the way Yang seemed deliberately unapproachable and the way Ruby kept fidgeting in place meant they were sharing in her trepidation quite well. The rest of the students… Confusion was the chief element in their expressions. The only element, she wavered – Team CFVY, at least, seemed a bit wary as well, but Weiss chalked that up to their experience. "I… I don't really know, how to say this… so… So I think I'll just show you."

And with those words, Weiss undid the knot of the bandage, and let the stained fabric fall away.

It went as expected – the assembled crowd of students exploded into whispers and murmurs as they saw the red hue her tattoo had taken on. Professors Oobleck and Goodwitch looked thoroughly confused, Port's eyes were open – and the students themselves were hastily glancing back and forth between friends and teammates, and the set of crimson engravings on the back of her hand.

Ozpin's eyes narrowed only slightly, and then he was on his feet, cane in hand as he strode over to Weiss. Her nervousness peaked as he stopped in front of her, and when he started reaching out to her she very nearly flinched away – but she managed to reassure herself, and scolded herself for such silliness. Yes, the current situation was one that was very, very confusing and very, very intimidating, but this was Professor Ozpin standing before her. Surely his dedication to his students wouldn't have changed at all. Her thoughts were proven correct when he merely seized her by the wrist, gently and slowly, and raised her hand to better look at the array etched there. "I… I assume this isn't simply a change of colour, is it, Miss Schnee?" He said lowly. "There's a concerning amount of nervousness in your eyes. I must reassure you that you can trust everyone in this room – especially with the faculty members present."

A quick glance behind Ozpin – just for reassurance's sake – seemed to confirm the Headmaster's statement. Professor Goodwitch offered her an affirmative nod, whereas Port and Oobleck offered her reassuring smiles. "This man reminds me of someone that I knew in life," Galahad's voice flickered into her thoughts again. "Well, of several people, truthfully speaking. He seems open minded enough, for being a headmaster of a school of warriors. Can't say why, but I would say trusting this man is quite wise. You've brought me to the right place, Master," the Knight said confidently.

'I certainly hope so,' Weiss responded. "I… I think I've got reason to be nervous, Professor," she said honestly. "I… I may have found out just what these marks are. And… please don't misunderstand this, sir, but… I… I've met someone, who can tell us just what's going on."

Again, the maelstrom of whispers and murmurs erupted on the other side of the large office. Hushed voices ebbed and flowed like an ocean caught in a storm, drifting every this way and that, and it wasn't that Weiss couldn't make out what they were saying – there were just so many words clashing that she couldn't hope to decipher what phrases they form. They chaotic chorus of whispers fell silent, however, when Professor Goodwitch levelled an absolutely arctic glare at the assembled gaggle.

That… was good. Silence was good. Now if only she could stop focusing on the students' expressions – her friends' expressions – that would make this all so much easier.

She cleared her throat, quickly and softly, before straightening her posture. Posture was key when speaking to assembled crows – show them confidence, control and calmness and you will have their absolute attention. "As you've just heard," she started off, her voice shaking just a slight bit during those first three words, "I may have discovered just what these strange markings are. Something happened, during our mission – circumstances turned dire, and… well, when I most needed it, the meaning of these strange tattoos became clear. Think of them…" She trailed off, glancing at the red array of glyphs adorning her hand. "Think of them as a binding contract, of sorts. For… For summoning an ally."

Contrary to Weiss' expectations, the gaggle of students didn't start talking amongst themselves then. She could see on their faces that they were trying oh so desperately to figure out just what she meant by those words – the varying levels of confusion ranged from wary and suspicious to endearing and childish, but confusion itself was the one true constant. Pyrrha, ever curious, even went to ask her something – but someone beat the Champion to the punch.

"You aren't referring to traditional Schnee summonings, are you, Miss Schnee?" Ozpin asked, his gaze studious and analytical. Several hums of agreement floated up from the assembled crowd, and the nervousness on her teammates' faces seemed to increase. Yang had joined Ruby in fidgeting, and Blake looked downright uncomfortable – not that she could blame them. She was… well, about to introduce a portion of Beacon's student populace to a warrior from another world who may or may not be definitively posthuman, either through magical or unknown means. Said warrior was also going to tell them about a war of sorts. Not exactly a usual post-mission report, Weiss thought wryly.

"No, Professor," Weiss admitted. "I've never… Summoning isn't one of my strengths. This… This is different."

"I take it this is my cue, my lady?" Galahad asked her through their link. From her peripheral vision she could see the ethereal hue of his presence shine just a bit brighter – flecks of gold akin to starlight pulsed and coursed around the opaque outline of his figure, but his eyes – those vividly violet eyes – stood out clear and stark against the dim light comprising the rest of his presence. With yet another gulp of nervousness, Weiss wrapped her arms around herself – daintily disguising it as a gesture of crossing her arms – before taking a deep breath.

"Yes," she said aloud, valiantly keeping her head held high as the assembled crowed glanced at her sudden addressing with confusion, wariness and no small amount of incredulity. "This is your cue. Show yourself…. Shielder."

To their credit, the assembled crowd tried to fall back into their gossip. Weiss even heard a word or two beforehand, and Jaune even seemed as though he were on the verge of addressing her directly.

All of that fell flat, however, when an eruption of golden starlight in the open space next to her effectively broke any semblances of disbelief they may have had.

With a low hiss of power and several rays of light, the golden mist beside her started to convalesce. Flecks of light arranged themselves into a pseudo-human figure as the mist wrapped around the developing wireframe. Transparency faded and solidity and colour manifested in a fraction of the time it took the assembled crowd to blink, and with a final rise in the hum of otherworldly energy, akin to a relieved sigh, the golden light faded entirely, leaving a charming, gallant figure in polished, layered plate exquisite in colour and quality, and fine fabric that wouldn't seem out of place in high-society tailors. That immense, cross-shaped shield that Weiss had come to associate with the Knight was affixed firmly to his back, covering the top half of his cloak, and his gauntleted fists rested casually on his hips. From beneath the waves of stark white hair, Shielder's violet eyes peered curiously at the assembled crowd. The various clinks and scrapes of his armour seemed compounded in the silence, louder somehow, and as the Knight's gaze swept across the room… the corner of his mouth pulled up into an appraising grin.

Weiss, preparing to face the music, turned back to the crowd, prepared to try and explain away any misgivings, paranoia, disbelief and confusion despite the fact that she had felt every single one of those emotions in the past… not even twenty-four hours, she noted glibly. Only, when her eyes met those of the assembled crowd, she realized why the Knight had smirked in the first place.

Well... That's sort of expected, she thought. Alert, was the word to describe the assembled students. Some were even parroting the teachers, keeping their weapons within short reach. The rest of her team were fine; they'd met Shielder already after all. Team JNPR themselves seemed a bit on the fence – Pyrrha especially. The Champion seemed torn between reaching for her weapon and staying put; as though her instinct at a Knight suddenly appearing out of thin air was clashing with her trust in Weiss. It was… a heartwarming gesture, honestly, and when their eyes met Weiss offered the Mistrali girl a reassuring smile. It seemed to do the trick – Pyrrha finally stopped fidgeting, opting to turn an apprehensive glance towards Shielder instead.

The rest, though…

Weiss was torn between worry, alarm and amusement as she noticed Coco was holding her tote bag at the ready. The way the side from which her minigun's barrels would sprout was surreptitiously pointed in Shielder's direction contrasted her aloof, laid back body language rather well. Fox's armblades gleamed distinctly in the light, some of the older students had their hands resting on the grips of their pistols, the hilts of their swords, and wrapped around the hafts of a whole slew of other such weapons, and offhandedly Weiss wondered just when Professor Goodwitch had retrieved her riding crop from her boot. The whip was extended to its full length, and braced against her shoulder as she stood cross-armed before the mass of students. Her face, much like the expressions of Professors Port, Oobleck, Peach and even Ozpin himself, remained neutral.

"Quite savvy, for a bunch so young," Shielder mused as he turned a wry glance towards her. His eyes sparkled; a mix of merriment and mirth twinkled in those pools. "I see it was no jest when you said this is a school for warriors. I'm impressed," he said honestly, turning his attention back to the assembled crowd – specifically the assembled students. "Quite the array of mettle assembled here. I'm certain they'll all make fine warriors yet."

Weiss allowed herself a small smile as the Knight's words set in. The teachers, of course, remained properly alert – but the praise did alleviate some of the wariness that had been hanging over the gaggle of students had dispelled and ebbed away. Fascination had developed in some of those students' eyes – especially Jaune, she noticed – and already some of them were whispering amongst themselves. Coco even whispered something to Fox, who snorted in amusement.

"Yes, my armour is indeed real, and quite sturdy, Miss," Shielder called out to one of the girls huddled near the back of the gaggle of students. Said girl promptly slapped a hand over her mouth as she – and Weiss, and the rest of the students, going by their gobsmacked expressions – realized that the Knight could hear them all perfectly, despite their voices being less than hushed whispers. "Yes, this is a real sword," he then addressed a boy standing near the front of the crowd, before turning towards Coco and succinctly saying: "And I assure you, Miss, this cloak really is simple silk."

Coco, with a nauseous expression on her face, glanced at Weiss. Weiss offered her an awkward half-smile in return, and the fashionista grudgingly moved her hand off her tote bag.

Galahad chuckled softly, resting his fists on his hips and he met Ozpin's eyes. "Weiss has told me much about you, Headmaster. You must have many questions. I swear on my honour, I'll do my best to answer them all." His face softened then, and his smile fell slightly. "Know, however, that there are some details I cannot tell you. Not yet, at least."

Ozpin's eyes narrowed slightly, before he turned an inquisitive glance towards Weiss.

Noticing her cue to speak, she cleared her throat. "Well, Professor, from what I've learned, Shielder here is… well, 'based' on the legend of a well-known Hero in…" She paused, ran a hand down her face and took a deep breath, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks again. "In his world, at least," she finished. "The adherence to these legends means the, the individual inherits the weaknesses of the legend, so they hide their identities." She took a breath again. "They apparently use some sort of Class System. Shielder is… thus…" She fought against her tongue turning woollen in the face of the redundant phrase she was about to utter. "…He's a Shielder. Because… well…" She paused again, palming her face. "Because he uses a Shield," she said finally, pointedly ignoring the giggles coming from the back of the crowd. "Or at least, that's what I understood from it, on the ride back," she finished, glancing hopefully at Shielder.

"Astute summary, Weiss," he said with a nod and a smile. "Some details are slightly more technical but you've gotten the point across quite well."

"I see," Ozpin spoke up then, his gaze lingering on Shielder. "So by this description of your unique nature I assume your… true identity and facts related to it are to be kept under wraps?"

"For now, at least," Shielder responded, nodding. "Too much is out of place, and there are too many unknowns. My… point of origin usually provides me with information on the time and society I am summoned into, but… Headmaster, I have never heard of this place. Remnant – it is an enigma, void of the kind of magic that usually warrants the appearance of beings like myself. This… I do not think this was a normal summoning, Headmaster. Something is very, very wrong – and the fact that so many bear Command Spells makes me worried."

Ozpin's eyes narrowed as he looked at the marks on Weiss' hand again. There was an intensity in his gaze that honestly made it difficult for Weiss not to fidget on the spot. She'd only rarely seen that expression on Ozpin's face – one of the deep thought and hitherto unpredictable trains of thought. The way his eyes darkened and his face settled… it unnerved Weiss.

"Are my students in danger?" He finally asked, his voice crisp and sharp as a blade as it rang through the now silent office and made every present student stiffen.

Shielder – Galahad – met the professor's gaze for but a moment, before his own expression dimmed. "Yes, Headmaster," he said solemnly. "Originally the appearance of Command Spells heralded, well… a war." His face fell. "Although I am loathe calling it such."

"What manner of war are we talking about?" Ozpin demanded, his voice still razor-sharp.

And once more, Galahad met his steely gaze head-on. "A glorified competition," the knight answered, a hint of venom creeping into his tone. "Engineered by the mages of my own world. Seven people would be branded with the Command Spells, proof of their participation in the event, and they would each summon an incarnation of a Hero of legend to do battle on their behalf, for what those short of sight would call the 'ultimate prize'; a chance to have one wish, regardless of its intent or content, granted without any strings attached whatsoever."

Weiss luckily stopped herself from flinching when the assembled crowd erupted into whispers yet again, even as Ozpin drew a sharp breath through his nose. For once Goodwitch's arctic glare alone wasn't enough to cull the buzzing of rumour and gossip; Port, Oobleck, even General Ironwood had strode forward, trying to quell the tide of voices.

"We're fortunate they're all here," Galahad spoke again, drawing Weiss' attention back to him. He was still locked in conversation with Ozpin, and for some reason the dour expression now on his face unsettled her. "This is not the usual kind of war. There are far too many participants – and from what Weiss has told me, none of them are aware of what burden awaits them." He looked at the whispering students. "To think, they're not even magi…"

"Hold on!" A voice called from somewhere within the gaggle of students. Galahad raised a brow as he identified the speaker, and beckoned him forwards even as Goodwitch attempted to shush him. The disciplinarian levelled a questioning glance towards Ozpin – who, in turn, merely breathed deep and nodded. Goodwitch relented, and to Weiss' own exasperation – but not surprise – Jaune slowly stepped forward. "Geh. I… I didn't mean to interrupt anything, but… Mages? Really? You're saying these marks have to do with magic?!"

Weiss' exasperation waned, and she felt a broken little smile pull at her lips. Oh, Jaune… If only he'd been there to see Galahad in action as well. 'Magic' was the least unbelievable word she'd heard that day, by quite a wide margin.

Galahad, however, offered a somewhat lame smile. "I am hardly an expert at the subject, sir," he admitted with a shaky little shrug. "Hardly a magus. Although it's not a stretch to say I, as I stand here, am made of magic. This vessel is shaped by it, empowered by it – and sustained by it. Usually," he said timidly, glancing towards Weiss. "There are technicalities that need to be addressed. Later, that is."

"As opposed to what needs to be addressed now," Ozpin's voice cut in again, and once more the crowd fell silent. "Shielder – you assisted a team of our students when their backs were against the wall, and for that I assure you, you have our unconditional gratitude… But what you are telling us is leaving us with more questions than answers, and when you yourself have admitted that my students may be in danger, I find that to be intolerable. Please – start from the beginning. Tell us everything of your world, especially of this war."

"Yes, indeed, it is unacceptable. I apologize for dallying," Shielder responded with a nod. "I will tell you what I can – but I am afraid I am no magus. Even when I was alive and mortal, magic was a concept that many found to be quite elitist. As such, there are some answers even I don't have." His expression turned pensive. "This would be so much easier if fate had seen fit to send a magus with m-"

A loud hiss drew everyone's attention at that moment – an ear-piercing screech in the deafening silence that danced around Shielder's words. Students jerked, faculty members spun, and even in the tense lull that followed the sudden intrusion, Weiss saw Ozpin's hand clench his cane ever-tighter. And amidst all the confusion -

"Excuse me? Professor Ozpin?"

In strode an older girl – one Weiss fleetingly recognized; bright blue hair, pale skin, icy eyes and grey, sophisticated clothing. A third-year, one whose name eluded her – and one whose time in Beacon certainly didn't warrant the befuddled expression currently on her face. Even as the assembled students relaxed, she still seemed… lost, somehow. Confused, even.

"Miss Beckett," Ozpin was quick on the uptake, addressing her crisply and quickly regaining the attention of everyone present. Weiss chanced a glance at Shielder – and gulped when she saw the Knight's eyes narrowed slightly. He regarded the new arrival with curiosity and caution in equal measure.

Something wrong, Galahad? She asked, through their… through their telepathic link, she admitted to herself, in a bid to come to terms with the alien mechanic.

"I am unsure," came the Knight's response. "She moves with precision and strength, befitting the experience she physically displays. But her eyes… Something is out of place here."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Professor," the third-year – Rain Beckett, Weiss remembered now – said somewhat cautiously, eyeing the students around her. "I… I know this is a very serious and secret discussion, but there's a visitor here. He's gravely injured, Professor, but he refuses help. He says he has to speak to you – urgently."

Again, hushed whispers exploded in the silence that followed. All around them, students conversed in hushed tones as the faculty members once again moved to re-establish order and silence. All the while, Rain's eyes danced between Weiss herself, the Knight standing beside her, and Professor Ozpin. "My lady," Galahad's voice drifted into Weiss' mind again. "She is one of your seniors, no?"

She is, Weiss responded, pensively observing Rain's expression. Those eyes… weren't the eyes of an experienced student of Beacon at that moment. They were… frantic, wild, even – as though she was seeing things that weren't there. Although… This visitor must be really badly wounded if it's rattled her so badly. Unless… Unless you suspect something else?

"I cannot say," Galahad responded, and as Weiss looked to him, she saw his eyes narrow almost studiously. "This doesn't sit well with me, my lady. Something is very wrong with that girl…"

"I understand," Ozpin spoke then, suddenly, his voice effectively silencing everyone around him again. He, too, was peering at Rain with a cautious expression as he stood straight and firm again, and from the corners of her eyes Weiss saw Professor Goodwitch and General Ironwood standing at attention as well. "Did this visitor have a name, Miss Beckett?"

Rain blinked – once, twice, then a few times more – before a shade of pink dusted her cheeks and she awkwardly scratched her head. Her face screwed up in confusion, the slightest hints of panic blooming in her eyes. "I… No, Professor, I… I didn't think to ask him. I don't know why… I… I'm sorry?" She said uncertainly, her breathing hitching. "Something's just – I, I'll go and ask him right now, I think. I should have… Dammit all-Wait," she said hesitantly, taking a step back. She looked… lost. "Something's not… Something's wrong-"

"Miss Beckett," Ozpin interrupted, slowly moving forwards. Galahad took a few steps as well, to Weiss' mounting concern, and she could see Goodwitch, Port, Oobleck and Ironwood slowly but surely herding the rest of the assembled students back behind them as they advanced to link up with Ozpin. "I need you to-"

Rain's eyes darkened then, losing all shine and luster, and her hands dropped listlessly to her side.

It was as though everything just stopped at that moment; silence, of sound and of movement, seemingly echoed off the large window panes of Ozpin's office as nobody moved. Eyes flickered and danced with confusion as students exchanged glances, and the faculty – with grim expressions – remained motionless, eyes fixed on Rain's now limp figure.

Then, with a rustling of cloth and the scraping of steel on steel that sounded deafeningly loud in the sudden silence, Shielder moved forwards. His kite shield was still affixed to his back, and even as he moved his posture was regal and poised despite the etchings of concern on his face… but Weiss' heart rate spiked just a bit when she realized the Knight now had a hand wrapped around the hilt of his sheathed blade. With a few thudding steps, Shielder was beside Ozpin – carefully, curiously observing the catatonic girl.

Ozpin's eyes hardened as his gaze alternated between Shielder and the listless student. His knuckles were a pale white around the handle of his cane, and his jaw was set firmly. "What is this?" He asked Shielder – simply, and lowly.

"I cannot be certain," the Knight responded. "It could be another Servant – another being, like myself, summoned for this farce of a war; a Caster, at worst. I have not been here long; I cannot yet know what these 'Semblances' of yours are capable of, Headmaster, but this," he said, pointing at Rain, his expression somber, "this stinks of sorcery."

"It has to be related to whatever's going on," Ironwood spoke up, eyes fixed on Rain's seemingly comatose state. "Whatever the hell it is, these events are lining up much too conveniently to be a coincidence."

Everyone watched the scene with bated breath. Weiss herself fought valiantly against the onset of yet another wave of panic – after all of Shielder's talk of danger, not even moments after his appearance, here they were, looking at a girl who'd been, what, mind-broken? Shut down?

She nearly yelped as she felt a small hand around her wrist, and with a panicked snap-glance she looked left, right into Ruby's inquisitive silver eyes. "…Did Shielder say anything about this?" Ruby asked softly – impossibly softly, so much so that even in the deafening silence the current standoff created, Weiss only barely heard her.

"I… I don't know," she said dumbly, honestly, at a loss. "He… He had a suspicion, and then…" She shook her head. Ruby gave her a squeeze around the wrist, and didn't let go, instead shuffling just a bit closer. Yang and Blake were behind her a moment later, with the blonde brawler resting a hand on Weiss' shoulder. In the midst of the confusion, her teammates' presence… worked wonders. Her worries weren't alleviated in the slightest – but the reassurance she wasn't alone was welcomed.

"What do we do, Shielder?" Ozpin asked measuredly, snapping Team RWBY's attention back to him. His eyes had yet to leave Rain's listless form. "If this is someone like you… Do you have a way to undo what's happened?" He asked seriously. "One of my students is in danger-"

"She really isn't, Headmaster."

In defiance of all possible reason, the deafening silence grew even deeper, more all-consuming. Weiss didn't even jerk when Ruby's hand clenched around her wrist in panic; if anything, the Heiress was too busy fighting off her own worries and panic at that moment. She gulped as she saw the colour drain from every face around her – even Ozpin grew a shade paler at the surprise interruption.

Because that interruption had come from Rain herself – who was now staring at Ozpin with glowing, violet eyes.

Those eyes locked onto Shielder, then, and the ghost of a smile bloomed on Rain's lips. "Nor am I a Caster," she said, her voice echoing almost subliminally – as though the echo itself just barely tugged at the fringes of Weiss' hearing. "Not technically at least. I assure you, noble Knight, I mean neither harm nor hostility."

"Your meaning and your actions clash," Shielder said measuredly, taking a hesitant step forward. His free hand gestured peacefully – his other remained wrapped around the hilt of his sheathed blade. "Release the girl, and reveal yourself to me. Then I will consider your honesty, and hear your words – if the Headmaster whose student you are currently puppeting is forgiving enough to allow you an audience."

Ozpin… seemed nothing of the sort, Weiss thought with a nervous gulp as she beheld just how much outrage was in the Headmaster's eyes at that moment.

Rain – or rather, whoever was currently tagging along in her body – regarded Shielder curiously. Those now-golden eyes seemed to drink in every detail about the Knight, from the contours of his armour to the luster of his silvery sword, from the deep hues of his eyes to the seriousness of his form… and then, she – they – smiled almost ruefully.

"As noble here as you were when you walked the streets of Camelot… Boy…"

Weiss gasped and recoiled as a soul-numbing amount of shock pierced her chest at that moment. In a blink Yang's arms were around her, holding her in place as she recoiled under the sudden explosion of emotion. Not mine, she realized, as she saw the expression of complete and utter shock on Shielder's face. This was his shock – that phrase, that nickname, meant something… But- Galahad! She called out through their mental link, even as she fought the sudden numbness in her chest. 'Galahad? Are you alright?'

"They… They know me…" Came his numbed response. A loud clink echoed through the all-consuming silence as the tip of his sword touched the floor once – before being wrested into a position ready to strike. Weiss recoiled as hints of worry seemed to start bleeding through their shared link. "…You know me," Shielder spoke then, aloud, to whatever person, whatever entity was currently possessing Rain Beckett. "You know who I am… Who I was in life…" His eyes narrowed then, almost dangerously. "…Le Fay?"

Rain – or her passenger – blinked once, twice… and snorted derisively. "I actually take offense to that," they said, almost casually, before the short-lived lightheartedness bled away into more rue. "No. Not at all. If I'd known you were here, well…" They sighed, slumping dramatically in Rain's body. "…I've gone and made quite the mess of things, haven't I?"

"Make sense," Ozpin interjected then. His tone actually made Weiss jump – fortunately Yang was still cradling her. She couldn't remember the last time she heard Ozpin sound so… hostile.

"I shall," Rain's passenger complied. "I will release this girl into your care. She will be drowsy, confused and disoriented. I suggest she's taken to the infirmary, to sleep it off. I must, however… make a simple request before I do that."

Weiss gawked. The utter nerve to make demands after pulling this… this brazen stunt, whatever it was! And after making Shielder all panicked as well-

"I am perfectly fine, Weiss," Galahad's voice poured into her thoughts, snuffing what little outrage had managed to take root between the fear and the doubt. "Shaken, certainly, but fine. Please, do not worry about me."

'Shielder,' she asked, honestly, worriedly. 'What… What's going on here? What's happening to Rain? And who is that 'Le Fay' person you mentioned? I don't… I don't know-'

"…State your terms," Ozpin said finally, interrupting Weiss' internal tirade and making her jerk to attention. Ruby's hand still had yet to leave her wrist. The young girl was watching the ordeal with rapt attention, silver eyes wide, curious and worried. Weiss drew in a deep breath, and looked back ahead.

"No doubt I've incurred your wrath," Rain's passenger mused. "My own recklessness. I'll accept whatever judgement you lay upon me in your capacity as Headmaster. However… I must request that you hold off on that." Those violet-glowing eyes surveyed the room. "If all of these students are assembled around a Servant, here, in your office… I must assume that means they're marked with Command Spells. They must remain here. I have much to say, Headmaster – and all of you must hear it."

Ozpin continued to regard Rain's passenger with stoic, stern eyes. "You know about this Grail War that Shielder spoke of?" He asked simply.

"Oh Headmaster… It is far beyond a simple Grail War at this point," Rain's passenger answered morosely. "I am, at the moment, the only person in this world who knows how much danger it is currently in. Soon, this 'Remnant' will become a battleground for beings that are, compared to you, gods. And… Countless thousands could perish, if it is not stopped."

A collective gasp echoed throughout the room at the news. Worried glances were exchanged, several faces grew several shades paler, and behind her, Weiss heard a despondent "…Fuck…" from Yang as the implications swept across the assembled crowd. Her heart felt heavy, all of a sudden, and it took only a moment of introspection to realize it wasn't her own emotion. One glance at Shielder's face made it apparently that this news was difficult for the Knight to bear.

"Do they speak the truth?" Ozpin asked Shielder, his eyes still not leaving Rain's countenance.

"…Yes, Headmaster," Shielder answered after a while. "A usual war with but seven participants already promises untold potential for collateral damage. If everyone in this room is marked… Then the potential has increased a hundred-fold at least. And if there are more out there, in Remnant… More, in other cities, who bear the Marks of Command…" His face fell. He looked positively nauseous, Weiss realized. "Then it is not ridiculous to say every single settlement in this world is at risk."

Ozpin… closed his eyes, and exhaled. His grip on his cane relaxed ever so slowly, colour returning to the digits of his hand as he loosened his grip. With a deep breath he opened his eyes again, looking straight into Rain's violet eyes. And with a final, stiff nod, his cane tapped the floor as he lowered it completely. "Very well," he said softly. "I'll hear what you have to say. Students-"

"Ozpin!" Ironwood interjected. His steady gaze flickered between Rain and the Headmaster, focused and unyielding. "Oz… Are you completely sure about this?" He asked. "This person – whoever they are, they managed to possess a third-year Huntress trainee. Are you sure you want to bring them in here, with every-"

"If I may interrupt," Rain's passenger spoke again, "I assure you, Shielder here is well beyond mortal capability. In this confined space, injured as I am… He could cut me down before I even blinked. And he is a defender; a gallant knight. I've no pretense he won't do just that, if I make any wrong moves," they said, nodding. "Especially if his Master is present."

Ironwood frowned as he looked at Rain – no doubt trying to will his stern gaze into piercing right into whatever was puppeting the young Huntress. His lip curled and his frowned deepened – but nonetheless, with a grunt, he stood back. "I still think this is a bad move," he said lowly. "But… If you think this is for the best, Oz…"

"I do," the Headmaster replied with a nod. "Students, I want you behind the teachers at all times. Keep your eyes on your teammates at all times – if any of them start to exhibit something even remotely odd I want to know about it." The gaggle of students was already splitting into whatever teams they could form, and slowly forming up behind Goodwitch, Port and Oobleck. The tension in the room was thick enough to touch, to feel, physically, as everyone formed a semicircle around Rain Beckett.

"Weiss," Shielder's voice bled into the Heirress' mind again. "I do not mean to trouble you… But I must request you make yourself inconspicuous."

Weiss sucked in a breath as she subtly tried to make herself smaller. The thought occurred to her to fall back slightly, take up a spot behind Yang or Blake, but… She frowned. If whoever was puppeting Rain Beckett could sniff her out and make a move on her… She didn't want her team in the way of that. She'd seen the way Shielder moved and fought, the raw strength with which he'd decimated those Grimm.

She didn't want to know whether Aura could withstand a blow from such a fiendishly strong opponent.

So she shrunk in on herself, forewent all the posturing and poise she'd been taught over the years to appear as casual as possible – despite the knot forming in her throat. Carefully she snuck a glance at Shielder – that enormous kite shield was still stowed on his back, but his sword was now seized with both hands, seemingly ready to strike despite its downward angle.

She hoped, dearly, it didn't come to that.

Rain's passenger appraised the formation for a while longer, before nodding placidly, the golden glimmer in the girl's eyes starting to fade. "Very well then. I approach," she said simply.

The doors to Ozpin's office hissed again, and everyone tensed as the fluttering of fabric and the rhythmic tapping of what sounded like some kind of walking stick heralded the appearance of Rain's possessor. And then…

Shielder's free hand went to his face, covering it, as Weiss' felt the trickles of an odd cocktail of emotion through their bond – equal parts exasperation, frustration and… disappointment? "Of course," he said, his posture faltering just a bit as his hand slipped off the hilt of sword. "Of course it's you…"

Shielder's accusation of sorcery seemed to ring true. Their newest visitor, the bastard who'd managed to wrest control of Rain Beckett's body away from her, seemed every bit the stereotypical wizard; dark cloak, obscuring hood, shadowed face and resplendent, almost garish robes beneath the black, weathered garment covering everything. And in his hand-

"…the heck kind of weapon is that?" She heard Ruby mutter offhandedly to the side.

It was… oddly chimeric, Weiss summarized; a staff that had a sword holster, a dagger holster and even some kind of weird harp built into it. Oddest detail, though, was the flower petals sporadically spawning and withering in a non-existent breeze around the head of the staff. It was… as foreboding as it was fascinating.

The wizard merely grinned at Shielder from beneath his hood – before pulling it back, and letting the cloak drop to the ground. "I truly thought I'd be met with a warmer reception than that from you, Boy," he said candidly – albeit with a strained expression.

Weiss… stared. He was… nowhere near as old as Weiss thought he'd be. Even with a somewhat pale complexion and a still-sickly pallor, the man was… beautiful, Weiss though somewhat guiltily. An angular face of noble bearing, with bright, vivid golden eyes and silvery hair that seemed to drink light itself and display a myriad of rainbow-like colours across the locks; a slim neck, shoulders neither too broad nor too narrow, and garish, extravagant clothes that were…

…Utterly bloodstained…

Weiss swallowed uncomfortably. The entire side of the wizard's luxurious clothing, from the clasp beneath the mantle, past the belt, and down to the coattails, was stained various shades of crimson. Unconsciously she brought a hand to her mouth. Just how much blood had he lost so far?

"What the hell, man…" She heard Yang mutter behind her.

"Just…" Shielder sighed, then. "You've made things complicated, Merlin," he said simply, shaking his head. "Very complicated. What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," the Wizard – Merlin – admitted, somewhat bashfully. "I had to make haste. If I'd known they'd summoned you already, I would have taken things slower. But… I had no way of knowing. Damn shame…" He said, before shaking his head. "I'm certain the venerable Headmaster here," he said, beckoning to Ozpin, who was still regarding him with narrowed eyes, "will pull explanations aplenty from me after all of this is said and done." Gingerly, his hand came to rest on his side. "First, though… I have a deal to uphold." Slowly, with his face twisted into a pained grimace Merlin shuffled over to Rain. Weiss saw the assembled crowd of students, and even the teachers, tense as the man simply pressed a finger to the young Huntress' temple…

…and then the glow was gone.

Blearily, Rain stared back at the assembled students with own icy-blue eyes, one eye heavier lidded than the other as her face twisted into a mask of confusion and befuddlement. "H-Wh-Wha-Hwath-I…" She shook her head and pawed her eyes, seemingly trying to wipe away her disorientation as she swayed in place. Merlin took her gently by her upper arm to keep her steady, and already Ozpin was slowly walking forwards towards her. "Hwha happen?" She mumbled as she stood, squinting and widening her eyes as she took in the assembled crowd. "Who-wha-wha's going onnnn?" She muttered, shaking her head, before she caught sight of the robed man standing beside her. "Who-Who're you-Oh! Oooooh! It's you!" She shook her head again. "I was – I was supposed to, um, get your name, and like –"

"Hush now, girl," Merlin spoke, forming a smile through his pained grimace. "There's no need for that. Look, see? Your Headmaster's right here. Thank you, for bringing me here."

Ozpin ground to a halt in front of Rain at that moment, and the young huntress drowsily rolled her head back to look him in the eye. That way they remained for a few moments, with Rain groggily blinking and squinting as she craned her head to the side. "Miss Beckett," Ozpin said carefully. "How… How are you feeling right now?"

Rain blinked again, then again, then squinted, before jerking with shock, her mouth forming a perfect 'o' as she took Ozpin by his sleeve. "H-Hey, hey, hem-heam-Prof, uh, here! Right here!" She said with a loopy smile, pointing at the wizard man. "He-He-He hurt, buh he wants to talk t'you. Said it's urrrrrrgent. N'stuff."

"He… has explained as much to me, Miss Beckett," Ozpin responded with a slight huff, working his sleeve free of Rain's weak grip before taking her by the wrist and checking her pulse. "This had better not be the norm," he said lowly, sparing a glare at Merlin, who merely raised his hands harmlessly – wincing as he did so. The arm on his injured side dropped slightly lower.

"Nothing serious," he said simply. "She must merely sleep. Tomorrow she will awaken, rested as can be, with not even a fragment of a memory of what transpired here." He jerked, then, hissing, as he cradled his side with his arm. "I do suggest, however," he said through gritted teeth, "that you take her to the infirmary. At least there she can sleep under monitoring. And you can come at me with weapons ready at a moment's notice, if something troubles you so."

Rain simply giggled tiredly.

"Professor!" Bombastically, Port stepped forward. "While I'm far from a doctor – and far from amicable to our visitor – I must agree with him. Miss Beckett here has been through something horrendous today. May I volunteer to escort her to the Infirmary?" He asked. "I am certain I will be back before I miss too much of what our guest has to say."

Ozpin regarded his colleague with a raised brow, but nonetheless agreed with a nod. Rain giggled once more as Port stepped forward, gently taking her by her shoulders and steering her towards the door. "Come now, Miss Beckett," Weiss heard him say as they made their way to the lift.

"I recommend carrying her," Merlin called after them. "Stairs are unforgiving in her current state."

"Duly noted," Port responded crisply as the elevator doors closed – and a moment later, the loud, cheerful 'Ding!' of the lift announced its descent for all to hear.

Weiss inhaled worriedly as she let her gaze flit between Ozpin and Merlin, now mere feet from one another. She thought that once Rain was free, and safe, the tension would at least dissipate. But oh no, instead it simply did the opposite. The atmosphere between those two was heavily loaded, and the assembled students awaited any kind of progress between the two with bated breath and wary gazes.

Finally, Ozpin exhaled, and his posture ever-so-slightly relaxed. "Thank you," he said hesitantly. "For releasing her."

"Don't mention it," the wizard waved him off. "Girl was quite dear, to be honest. Saw I was hurt, and simply tried to help me out. Praiseworthy, too – she was resisting every step of the way. Nearly fought me off completely, that one. Hence my little… occupation of her mind. You've got good kids here, Headmaster, as befitting the vaunted school for warriors everyone pointed me to." He stopped, turning his gaze, and a wry – if pained – grin to Shielder, who was still regarding him warily. "You've fallen in with a good crowd here, Boy," he said simply.

Shielder, for his part, had seemingly gotten over his little bout of exasperation. Once more his posture was poised and controlled, and despite still having a discomforted expression on his face… a smile was forming there too. "I've half a mind to just say we're poorer for your company," he mused. "Nonetheless… It's heartening to know you're here, Merlin. Even if you did complicate matters."

With a pained chuckle, Merlin waved him off. "You speak as though I'm a stranger to complications, Boy."

There was history here, Weiss acknowledged as she looked at these two people. So far removed from their own worlds – obvious, by their state of dress – and so far removed in time, if it was indeed possible that this Merlin person knew Shielder when he was 'alive', so to speak. Their little reunion at least eased some of the tension smothering the assembled students. Ozpin was still regarding Merlin warily – and with good reason, Weiss thought, her hackles rising slightly at the mere thought of her body being 'stolen' from her as Rain's was. Nonetheless… Shielder seemed to trust him. Somewhat, at least.

"Now, then. I do believe," the wizard continued, holding out his abomination of a staff to Ozpin, "that I've surrendered myself into your custody, Headmaster. My… abilities aren't so easy to confiscate but it's my hope that this is enough of an olive branch."

Ozpin regarded the peace offering with a critical eye – then slowly, painstakingly, took hold of the staff and removed it from Merlin's hands. "I suppose the gesture speaks enough," he said, his expression still critical and cautious. "Do you need any aid with that wound?"

Merlin snorted – and growled as he jerked forwards, arms desperately grasping at his side as he erupted into a fit of painful, wet coughs. Even from that distance, so far from any potential danger, Weiss saw the flecks of red fly from the man's mouth – and when the coughing finally stopped, and he pulled his hands away from his side, the vivid shade of red coating his fingers was clear to see. Ozpin set the staff aside, to lean against the wall, and stepped forwards – only to take a cautious step back when the wizard started to –

"A chant?" Weiss muttered under breath, her body tensing as she saw the man mumble under his breath in a language she couldn't even begin to understand. A mantra, perhaps, a focusing method-

Her jaw dropped as neon light flickered in Merlin's palm, snaking around his arms and spewing petals of lilacs and lilies around him as the glare seeming wove itself into his side, into the wound he was no doubt nursing. The light danced across the floor and reflected off the windows, not bright, or piercing, but present, and firm in that presence. Sigils and glyphs formed at the wizard's fingertips, so similar yet so vastly different from the ones Weiss used herself, and for the briefest moment trepidation gave way to fascination.

Then the light flickered and died, and the wizard heaved a sigh of relief, straightening ever so slightly.

"…Better," he said simply, shakily, as he stood taller than before. There was… relief, in his features and his posture. Some colour had even returned to his cheeks. "This wound is well beyond you, Headmaster. As you can see," he said, gently plying the fabric to reveal a still fresh injury, "even magic cannot do away with this hindrance. I assure you, though, with proper care on my part, it's not nearly as bad as it appears to be. Now that some urgency has bled away I can do just that."

Shielder simply sighed, and took a few steps back. "Urgency… I think it's time we found out just what's going on, Merlin," he said simply, shaking off anything else he could have said. "And I'm certain the Headmaster agrees."

"Indeed," Ozpin spoke up, stepping forward. "Merlin… There is much we need to discuss about your actions today," he said sternly. "But… These marks, and this 'war' you're talking about… That takes precedence." He stopped, keeping his gaze on Merlin a moment longer, before looking to Shielder. "You know him… Is he trustworthy? Can we believe what he says, from here on out?"

"Absolutely," Shielder replied instantly. "He's a troublemaker, of note… but he is undoubtedly on our side. Even if his methods are… questionable. And if he is here, then I assure you, he knows exactly what is going on, and he has more answers than I could ever hope to provide you with."

"Answers… Yes," Merlin mused, tenderly nursing his injured side again as he eyed the assembled students. "As said I am perfectly willing to accept whatever punishment you deem fitting for my irrational actions," he said measuredly. "Now, though…"

With a snap of his fingers a bolt of green light flew from his hand and struck the exposed floor, drawing gasps of shock and fright from the assembled students. In a blink Ironwood had his pistol in hand again, trained squarely between Merlin's eyes, and Ozpin and Goodwitch both had their weapons ready as well.

Then the light dimmed, and snapped and strained. Fright, shock, apprehension and alarm gave way to curiosity and fascination as roots and vines formed from nothing. With a groan, wood followed, moaning lowly as bark crackled and crawled across its surface, as the flora born from Merlin's magic trick grew, and grew, and wove itself into a flowery structure that bled a pleasant aroma of lilac and lavender into the office. As soon as the light came it was gone – replaced by a simple stool, seemingly woven from nature itself.

Weiss… simply felt her jaw drop at the sight.

Merlin, however, sighed somewhat wearily. "It's no throne," he said somewhat begrudgingly, "but I suppose needs must. I suggest you take your seat, Headmaster," he said, before shuffling over to his newfound seat. "Daylight is burning, and despite the rush I would prefer to give these children ample time to process what I am about to tell them," he said, slumping into the throne and wincing slightly as he nursed his injured side.

"And as for you, children, and teachers all," he said, making himself comfortable, "I suggest you sit as well. There is much I have to tell you – all of it crucially important."

Despite everything – despite the modicum of civility that had settled across the office, despite the air of awe that Merlin's magic had created, and despite the fact that Ozpin himself was willing to sit and listen…

…Weiss had a sinking feeling things were about to get much more dramatic.

She felt… lighter, as the stream of disembodied information steadily dispersed. Slowly, the large-paned windows and exquisite architecture of that top-floor office faded away, along with all those faces twisted with confusion and worry and even the barest hints of excitement. It dimmed, and faded, until eventually nothing was left but colourless, soundless dark…

…And once again, to her chagrin, Rin Tohsaka found herself back in her new personal hell, cut off from the sights of the surrounding world.

"Aw c'mon Rinny!" And there was the biggest pain in the very fabric of her soul, the Jackass himself. "Oi that's not nice! Are you being a little grumpykins again? Why, I know just what'll cheer you up! I've got a classic song I've saved just for this moment-"

"I will curse you," Rin hissed in response, "the likes of which you with all your many evils have never seen before if you so much as dare to hum."

For a moment, silence reigned…

"…Can I whistle though?"

…before she had to bite back yet another frustrated scream.

"Aw don't be that way!" He chided her, heedless of her growing frustration. "Entertainment's over, Rinny, right now Merlin's going to be all talky-talky serious mode with those kiddies in the tower and you can't want to tell me you haven't heard that shit a hundred times before. 'Hurr the Grail's corrupt and out of control' – you namedropped Zelretch, you've got to know this shit like you know your… Uh… Shit, what would an old coot like you know?"

Again, the ghost sensations of a twitching eye plagued her. Nonetheless, she shook it off and sighed – audibly, at least, so as to release some frustration. What she'd just borne witness to had really left her on the edge of her metaphorical seat for a fair while. At the very least the maelstrom of emotions she'd felt had kept her focused on what was developing. Merlin himself, the fabled sorcerer from Arthurian myth, was here, in this world called Remnant. That was good. But… he'd very nearly botched the entire thing with that reckless stunt of his. From a certain perspective Rin could understand his need for urgency; the threat was dire enough to warrant being a bit lax in terms of caution, but… "Poor," she summarised eventually. "Poor planning, poor tactics. Poor strategy."

"Well excuse the fuck outta me, Little Miss Sun Tzundere," the Jackass rudely interrupted. "But between reaching the point of nearly shitting out your ovaries and using 'em as a hat, and begging me of all people to try fixing this mess you ain't been a shining example of genius intellect yourself, yanno."

"At the very least I wasn't reckless…" Rin huffed.

"You literally made a deal with me. Fucking, ME!" the Jackass countered her.

"Don't patronize me!" Rin snapped, desperately ignoring the ghost sensation of burning heat where her cheeks would usually be. "It did all work out in the end," she continued, more reserved. "Even if it does look like Merlin's going to be receiving quite the razor-tongued reprimand for his stunt with that girl. Shielder's vouch worked wonders but still. If it hadn't been him? It had been someone with a slightly worse temperament?" She sighed. "Too much could have gone wrong. High risk, for moderate reward… Even if my memories weren't in a constant whirl, I'm quite certain I'd still not recall such a horrific plan being put into action."

"Hehehe. Yeah," Jackass agreed – and that alone was enough to put Rin on guard. "It's almost as bad as that one time this stuck-up bitch I happen to know went and set an Adorable Kook's head on fire and then got eaten by a Corrupted Grail because she botched the one fucking spell she should have pulled off flawlessly."

That burning ghost sensation in her cheeks was growing hotter, Rin realized…

And oh, it was almost as though she could feel her fists clenching for a moment. And her eyes twitching.

"Pot? Kettle? Butt-plug?" the Jackass chimed in again.

"Piss. Off," Rin countered intelligently and with as much composure and poise as befitted a Magus of her stature.

To her great surprise, however… he did just that.

Silence stretched across the endless expanse of black, and it proved to be a breather Rin was dearly hoping for. Sighing audibly, again, she tried to let her worries bleed away. They just… refused.

Dwelling on what had happened at this point was pointless. Aside from making her turbulent emotions even more chaotic, it achieved little; disembodied, trapped and void of proper memory as she was, pushing herself into some kind of breakdown served no purpose. All that could be done now was to look forward. The Jackass rarely shut up, so any time he did was an opportunity for introspection that could not be wasted.

Sparing a moment to see if the Jackass would take the bait – and indeed, he didn't – she proceeded to get her thoughts in order.

Problem: A Greater Grail now churning out an eternal War because of a mad wish… somewhere in this world. Technically… her own fault. That had been a bitter pill to swallow, a difficult truth to come to terms with. Granted, there was always the chance that her disembodied friend was taking the piss with her, but until her memories returned in full, she'd have to accept that the likeliest answer was, indeed, that everything was her fault.

…Again, she paused, waiting for the Jackass to possibly take that bait.

And again, he didn't.

Well then. Again she ran the question through her head: What could she do, from her position, with no magic, no body, and no way to influence the outside world? The answer remained the same: Absolutely bugger-all… except hope that somehow Merlin got back into Remnant's good books and started working towards fixing this mess – or at least somehow freeing her so she could help fix it. That, however, seemed very unlikely in the short-term. Which meant… that until Merlin made more progress, she was stuck with no choice but to believe that the Jackass would, indeed, make sure the War didn't get too out of hand.

And wasn't that a bloody exciting thought, she jeered to herself.

Knowing that bastard, he probably wasn't even going to tell her what-

"Iiiiiiiii've been dreeeeaaaaaming of a truuuueee loooooveee's kiiiiii-"

Restraint failed Rin as the Jackass finally made himself known again, with that same damnably hideous voice he'd used to erode her self-control several times now. Rin bit back a growl, wishing once more for mercy that likely wouldn't come for a fair while. "Why," she asked frigidly, her tone stiff as a board. "Why are you like this? I-Ugh. I hate you so much."

"Lies!" The Jackass sang in a grating falsetto that beyond all logic actually managed to make Rin feel physical pain for a split-second. "You know you love me. And you know you love my singing!" He said cheerfully. "Besides, look at you now! You're not moping anymore! Now we can sit together and watch Merlin get told off by some low-fantasy steampunk fetishist!... And honestly I wouldn't say no to another eyeful of that hot blonde henchwoman he's got going for himself."

"I wasn't moping in the first place," Rin answered curtly. "And clearly you don't know the first thing about the differences between a simple design theme and a fetish. As far as your usual jests go, that was quite poor. Shame on you."

"… I don't hear you denying the blonde lady was hot, though," came the glib response.

…And that damnable false-burning-cheeks sensation was back again. "I'm not discussing this with you. Are you-"

"Ooooh wait wait wait!" The Jackass interrupted, actually sounding excited. "I picked up on that! You bet I did! You telling me you bat for both teams there, Rinny? Huh? Nudge-nudge, wink-wink, lick-lick, su-"

"Fuck right off," she interjected, making her tone as arctic as she could manage. "I'm not going to say a single bloody word on that subject. Ever. So get your mind out of the gutter right now. And focus! Dammit. I have questions!"

"Oh, I do too!" the Jackass responded enthusiastically. "We obviously need to reach some sort of compromise here then, so! How about Twenty Questions again? I'll start! Are you a top, or a bot-"

"Just-Ugh!" Rin interjected again, already feeling her anger climbing slowly but steadily. This was going nowhere at the moment – the bastard was trying to get a rise out of her to fuel whatever sick thoughts he was entertaining at the moment so he'd be even less help than usual at this point. All she could do now was very desperately try to tune out the questions he was pelting her with – questions that were getting raunchier and raunchier with every single word he spoke – while she tried to at least plot out how the coming catastrophe could unfurl. Predicting futures and possible courses of action wasn't turning out to be one of Rin's strong suits, but she'd persevere.

She had to. The alternative of talking to literally All The World's Evils about sex toys, tongue-techniques and memorable "experiences" was too horrific to even bloody consider.

She sighed, as she tuned out the Jackass' grating voice, and let the silence of the darkness around them consume her consciousness.

Merlin, she thought glibly, you better have a bloody solution planned. Please, have a solution planned… My sanity depends on it…

Weiss let her eyes linger on the amber sky in the distance, behind the skyline of the City of Vale, for just a moment longer than necessary, letting the realization of just how much time they'd spent in Ozpin's office sink firmly into her mind. Already the sun was angling to dip behind the horizon, painting the sky pleasant shades of pinkish-red and orange as the signs of life in the grounds beneath Team RWBY's dorm window slowly trickled back into the building, readying to retire for the night. It was… an oddly soothing sight, one that handily distracted her for just a moment from the mind-numbing revelations they'd all just experienced.

Then, with a tired sigh, she seized the stitched, weathered curtain and yanked it closed, effectively shielding them from outside eyes as she turned around to face her teammates.

Ruby was sitting on the edge of her bed, while Yang and Blake sat on the latter's. Their expressions… Weiss guessed they matched hers, at that moment. Shocked, curious, disbelieving. Ruby… didn't look like she even knew which emotion to display so the young leader just kept her lips pursed – despite her eyes displaying her feelings for everyone close enough to see the emotions flickering through those silver orbs. "Well… Uh…" The diminutive reaper finally spoke up, making a face somewhere between optimistic and compromising. "That was… Well…"

"Life-changing?" Weiss supplied helpfully.

"Mind-boggling?" Blake added.

"Frickin' confusing," Yang summed up.

"Eheh… Let's go with all of the above, then," Ruby said with a forced chuckle, awkwardly scratching at her cheek. "I almost can't believe it. Magic, post-human warriors, a jinxed wish-granting… thing…" She sighed. "I thought the Bullhead crash was the most exhausting thing that was gonna happen today."

With a hiss of air a glimmer of light, Shielder manifested beside their door. Neither his cloak, his sword nor his shield were present, but his armour remained – clinking lightly as he adjusted his standing. "For what little it is worth," he said sincerely, "I must commend you all on how well you are taking this. Usually when folk unaccustomed to magic are drawn into one of these wars, acceptance and adjustment tend to be either more difficult, or more chaotic. Your calm in this situation is admirable."

"I don't feel like I'm taking it well," Yang piped up, frowning. "…My head hurts."

"Aspirins are in the medicine cupboard, bottom shelf," Weiss supplied offhandedly, pointing at the doorway to their bathroom. "Brown bottle, pink pills. Try not to spill them down the drain this time…"

Yang's expression fouled a bit, but she nonetheless rolled her eyes as she stood up and made her way to the bathroom. "Told you it was an accident…"

Weiss simply shook her head as Yang disappeared into the bathroom, muttering under her breath, before turning back to Shielder with a strained smile. "Your… faith, in us, is appreciated, Shielder," she said hesitantly. "But… Well, I can't speak for everyone present, but all of this still seems very surreal to me. I'm… not quite sure the realization has set in just yet. I heard every word back there, but I'm still… processing it. Comprehending it, so to say. It's…" She sighed, trailing off somewhat.

"It's a lot to come to terms with," Ruby admitted, pulling her knees up to her chest and scooting back on the bed. "I mean, you'd think we'd take this easier since we've had Aura and Semblances since, like, forever, but…"

"Somehow that all makes it a bit harder to take in," Blake admitted.

"Just a bit?" Yang called from the bathroom, as the sound of running water echoed into the dorm.

Weiss succinctly ignored her, taking a seat next to Ruby.

Shielder perked up, then, tilting his head. "Pardon, but it seems you'll be having visitors soon. Your friends – Team Juniper, was it? – they seem to be making their way here. No doubt they have as many questions and concerns as you do."

"I'm honestly surprised everyone didn't tag along afterwards," Weiss murmured. "We should probably let them in. They're… they're good friends of ours. I think it's only fair they hear anything we hear, from you."

Shielder nodded once, crisply – and in one fluid motion and a short step, reached over and opened the door… revealing Jaune, an awkwardly surprised expression on his face, with his hand raised in a motion to knock. Behind him Pyrrha blinked owlishly, quickly glancing to the side at the door's sudden automation, while Nora giggled and elbowed an impassive Ren. "He's… right by the door, isn't he?" Jaune asked slowly.

"Astute, Sir Arc," Galahad answered from his obscured spot. "My lady has been expecting you."

"He heard you through your door," Weiss helpfully supplied. "Yes, your door."

Jaune blinked, once, twice. "I… honestly dunno how to feel about that," he said, his expression falling a bit, and behind him his teammates suddenly seemed conflicted.

Except Nora. Nora just seemed even more excited.

"Well, come in," Weiss said after a brief pause, beckoning Team Juniper to enter the room. It seemed motivation enough, as the four of them quickly filtered into the room, greeting Shielder with varying levels of enthusiasm and reservation as they passed. Without request, Blake removed herself from the bunk they were seated on and quickly moved over to Weiss', joining her and Ruby there as Team Juniper gratefully took a (somewhat tentative) seat. At the same time Yang finally left the bathroom. She shot a curious look at Team Juniper – before shrugging and joining the rest of her team on Weiss' bunk.

For a moment, a somewhat loaded silence reigned as the two teams gathered their thoughts, with only the slight shifting of steel interrupting the monotony as Shielder alternated his gaze between Teams Ruby and Juniper.

"Well…" Ruby finally broke the ice, tentatively. "…Pretty crazy, huh?"

"I have so many questions!" Nora finally blurted, and Weiss was somewhat taken aback with how the girl managed to be excited in the wake of the world-changing revelations they'd been given. "Like, how many of you 'Heroic Spirits' are there? How are you summoned? How does the summoning even work? Are you summoned at random, or, like, does that Grail-thing decide? Oh, and-Mphf!"

With practiced ease, Ren clamped a single hand over Nora's mouth. "Excuse her," he said simply. "She's excitable."

"So I've noticed," Shielder agreed. "Being energetic, though, is hardly a vice." He paused, thinking for a moment. "Lady… Valkyrie, was it?" He inquired. "Your questions certainly have merit, but I can't help but think your friends have inquiries of a more personal nature. Not so?"

"A… A few," Jaune admitted, somewhat sheepishly. "I mean, we got a lot of info from that Merlin guy."

"And we're all very grateful for it," Pyrrha continued when Jaune stumbled a bit. "But…"

"You're left with more questions, now that you've been given answers," Shielder summarized wisely. Upon receiving a hesitant nod from Pyrrha, and the rest of Team Juniper in tow, he nodded understandingly. "Such is a common occurrence at the start of a Grail War, especially if those who have been kept in the dark are drawn into the conflict. I must also admit I am… quite worried about this particular scenario," he said sadly. "We Servants are summoned expecting to partake in a war – not being caught in the eternal aftermath of one." He trailed off slightly, frowning. "And then there's the fact that this Grail is corrupted…"

"That's… what's scary, yeah," Jaune admitted. "I mean, uh, most of what that guy Merlin said about things went over my head," he said sheepishly. "But… I mean, I could have this wrong, but all Merlin's talk about great danger and collateral damage and the… the high risk of death, that was all about a 'normal', uh, Grail War, right?" He asked. "But Merlin pretty much said this one's not normal…"

"Indeed, it isn't," Shielder admitted. "An eternal war between Servants, with a tainted Grail drawing on the legends of even the wicked and the vile… It's a very disconcerting thought, Sir Arc."

"Eh-Just Jaune, please," Jaune replied, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "Using 'sir' just makes me feel… Eh… Anyway," he said, shaking his head. "It's… gonna be pretty rough, isn't it?"

"Yeah, that's kinda an understatement," Yang interjected. "Seriously, I wish you could've seen what this guy does to Grimm," she said, pointing a thumb at Shielder.

"Humbling as your praise is, Lady Xiao Long," Shielder said with a slight bow, "it must be said that I'm far from the most powerful Heroic Spirit that can be summoned." He paused, pondering a bit. "In fact, if I'm to be truthful, it's not a stretch to say I'm quite mediocre, as far as Servants go. Defensive abilities excepted, that is. Shielder is… quite an unusual class."

He was met with blank stares from all eight assembled students – before they hesitantly looked at one another with various levels of worry and conflict on their faces.

"Well, that's… not foreboding at all, heh," Ruby said with false cheer, before the seriousness of the topic made her face fall slightly. "What do we even do from here? I mean… we saw what you could do, and if you're really as 'mediocre' as you say…" She sighed, resting her chin on her knee. "How do we even prepare for this?"

"Today, you cannot do more," Shielder said simply, a soft smile on his face. "There is much we do not know about how this war is going to unfold. I am not even sure whether this Aura of yours is tied into the Summonings or not, or whether it has any role to play. And… unfortunately I am not capable of discovering these answers myself," he said simply. "Any answers that must be discovered now, lay in Merlin's hands." He frowned. "Reckless as his actions were earlier today, I highly doubt there's anyone present in this world more capable of dealing with this mess."

"Can he, though?" Blake asked, seeming honestly inquisitive. "I'm… concerned. He had to try and heal that wound of his at least half a dozen times throughout his little class. It didn't even look like it helped. When he had to get up again it looked like he was about to faint."

Shielder's face fell slightly. "I will admit, I am worried about him. If he was truly within arm's reach of the Grail before this mess happened, then his suspicions might be correct, and the wound itself may be tainted by the Grail's corruption. He is not only injured, but… Weakened. Severely so," he said, sounding conflicted.

"He did seem disappointed with that little chair he made," Pyrrha mused.

"Indeed, and with good reason," Shielder agreed. "Merlin is… ridiculous, truly. Usually it would've taken but a snap of his fingers to cover that entire office in flora, and more. For him to struggle so much with such a mediocre display… He has a monumental task ahead of him, if he is to resolve this catastrophe in his current state."

For a moment, silence reigned.

Ruby perked up, then, inquisitively glancing at Shielder. "Do you think there's anything we can do to help?" She asked earnestly.

"But of course," came the equally earnest reply. Shielder smiled softly as he spoke to her. "There is undoubtedly plenty you can do to help. I'm sure this 'Aura' of yours and the role it plays in our Summonings is something Merlin is very curious about, among other things. Without question, he'll likely inquire about this, and request assistance. I'm certain he'll appreciate all the help he can get." He paused. "After the Headmaster is done raking him over the coals, metaphorically."

"Or literally," Yang offered with a cheeky grin. "Goodwitch's got Fire Dust, I bet."

"Alas," Shielder said, finally regaining some good cheer. "It will be neither the first nor the last time a woman has thrown Merlin into the fire." He sighed exasperatedly, before chuckling. "And alas, I am afraid it will change absolutely nothing about him. For continued secrecy's sake I cannot tell much about that troublesome oaf's past just yet, but when I finally have leave to I can share quite a few tales of Merlin's misfortune."

That brought several giggles out of the assembled students. "Wouldn't that, like, violate one of your 'knightly codes' or something?" Jaune asked. "Like, honour and justice and honesty or something like that?"

"I assure you, Jaune," Shielder replied, the merest hint of glibness to his tone, "that if these 'Knightly Codes' of yours does indeed exist… Merlin is without doubt an exception to every single one."

More laughs followed, and the tension in the room dispelled just a little bit. "I take it doing anything about that Grail itself is ill-advised?" Weiss asked, straightening her face again. Upon receiving a serious nod of affirmation form Shielder, she sighed softly. "So helping Merlin with whatever he's plotting and planning is the first step…" She mused… before frowning slightly. "If he possesses me I will skewer him."

"If he possesses you," Shielder agreed, "I will hold him in place and let all of you skewer him."

"You just said something very un-Knightly again," Jaune noted, torn between balking at the idea and laughing at it.

"Young man," Shielder said with a weary sigh, "in time you will come to know Merlin for what he truly is, beneath the compassion and the wisdom: A scoundrel, a troublemaker, and an absolute fiend where the fairer sex is involved. And when you come to know that side of him, you will realize holding him in place for those he has irked is the knightliest thing I can do."

"Alright," Yang said, nodding, a ponderous expression on her face. "We help him help us but we watch our asses while doing it. Literally. Right?"

"I should hope none of you fall within his tolerances," Shielder said, a faux-stern expression on his face. "If he attempts to draw any of you into his lechery I assure you, I will quite firmly reprimand him. Violently, if need be." He smiled then. "This is all somewhat hypothetical, however. Injured as he is, I suspect he'll be a fair bit meeker than usual. Enough so that making plans with your Headmaster should not take long. My recommendation now is that you rest – you've all had a tiring day, full of life-changing revelations. Merlin was right to grant you time to come to terms with it."

Ruby made to respond, only to yawn loudly as she tried. Disgruntled, Weiss clasped a hand over Ruby's mouth. "I won't lie, some rest sounds heavenly right now. This has been… quite a horrendous day. Grimm ambushes, magical warriors from another world and an honest-to-goodness sorcerer possessing one of our peers… Quite the opposite of what was expected," she said dryly. With a glance at the window, she allowed herself a small sigh, before moving to remove her boots. "The sun is still slightly high up, but I think we could all use some relaxation. I'm sure we've all still got a lot of questions, but at least the most pressing ones have been covered," she said, letting her boots fall to the floor before scooting back to rest her back against the wall. Ruby quickly followed suit, kicking her legs as she went.

Shielder glanced at Team Juniper. They, too, seemed to be unwinding just a bit. That was good. His eyes fell on Nora's still-excited expression, and he smiled. "Now then, if I recall correctly, you had quite a few questions ready. I'm far from an expert on the matter but I'm sure I can at least answer some of them. We've got some time before the sun completely sets, after all."

Nora blinked, a shine flickering across her eyes, before grinning and shifting into a more comfortable position. "Alright! Let's talk fights," she said eagerly, earning a raised eyebrow from Shielder. "Merlin already broke down all that stuff about Classes to us but we still don't know what any of you are really capable of! I mean if seven of you could create huge property damage you've all gotta be pretty darn strong," she said excitedly. "And since Team Ruby over there told us what you are capable of, and you say you're 'pretty mediocre', I really wanna know what the other classes can do!"

Pyrrha raised a hand at that point. "I think… Well, given the danger Merlin talked about, Nora might have a point," she said slowly. "Even if she's getting excited for the wrong reasons… Knowing what we'll be up against, possibly, would be valuable information." She paused. "I mean, given that you are all formed from… myths," she said, an uncomfortable expression on her face, "and legends we can't expect you tell us about all of that in one night. But knowing the niches and strengths of each, um, 'class' could help us prepare for any unforeseen eventualities."

"You two could always try sparring with him tomorrow, you know," Yang offered with a cheeky wink. "Specially you, Wondergirl. I'm sure he'll go easy on you."

"Quit it, Yang," Weiss interjected lamely, swatting at the blonde's arm with a lazy stretch. "Let's not go versing our friends against the magic knight that killed twice as many Grimm as all four of us in a fraction of the time." She quickly righted her position, and looked back at Shielder. "Bouts of craziness over and done with, I… don't think it's too bad an idea," she said. "The breakdown of the classes, I mean. Not the sparring. I don't want those two getting put in the infirmary on my conscience, thank you."

"It… could help, yeah?" Jaune added. "I mean most are pretty self-explanatory but I'm kinda curious about how much they can actually do…"

"Indeed. There is no such thing as too much knowledge, as they saying goes," Shielder agreed. "I'm fairly certain that Merlin will go into greater depth about the nature of Servants as his presence here cements itself as well. For now, however, I see no harm in telling you about the commonplace knowledge regarding Servants."

He trailed off for a bit, before smiling to himself, and straightening up.

"Well, while we're at it, we may as well start with the Saber class…"

With a low hiss of pain, she strode forwards, downcast eyes shaded in the darkness of night that had fallen over the Grimmlands. Skies perpetually crimson had turned an almost muddy shade as the shattered moon loomed overhead, peeking through the towering glass panes of her personal quarters and bathing the inordinately large, communal room in an eerie light that only served to accentuate the almost baleful red flames flickering atop the candles.

Before her lay her goal – an ornate yet weathered ancient bath, sunk into the floor. The marble surfaces surrounding the large bath were chipped and cracked and stained in some places, irreparable wounds rent upon the ancient structure by time itself. And within this bath lay her relief from this damnable ache blazing across her chest; the bath seemed to overflow with viscous black tar that bubbled and simmered and seemingly drank the crimson glare cast by her candles and the stark moonlight pouring in through the windows.

There.

Without a care Salem let her robes drop to the floor as she strode towards the bath, one hand quickly pulling at the various loops and ties woven into her hair. The other gingerly scratched at her collarbone, tentatively prodding at the sensitive flesh beneath the accursed mark that had settled there. Black blood swelled beneath miniscule wounds, before spurting out with soft, wet squirts and dribbling down her chest – clashing almost ironically with the deep red shade the tattoo had taken on. She sneered as pain flared beneath her fingertip; nowhere near enough to actually harm her, but just enough to be noticeable, and irksome.

With a low, frustrated hiss, Salem closed her eyes and stepped into the tar-like substance within the bath without even a second thought. The sludge seemed to scratch against her calves as she descended into it, sticking to her skin like liquid rubber as she sank lower and lower into the bath. Something pulsed beneath her skin, racing through her veins as numbness began to set in, rendering her limbs almost leaden in feeling. She exhaled, the merest tinge of relief in the gesture, as she finally sank until she was submerged up to her shoulders.

There, she remained, idly churning through possibilities regarding this wretched mark as she steadied the calm that was pouring into her body and mind. Her own investigations had turned up nothing – nothing – and contacting Cinder was a timely task. She would have to be patient – it irked her that it had to be so, but she had mastered the art of patience; forcing it upon herself, past the ire and the frustration she felt now, would be a simple task-

She hissed, shooting to her feet as the dull ache in her chest turned into a lance of agony. Her eyes narrowed and her canines sharpened as the muddy waters around her churned and roiled. What little of it clung to her body was seemingly ripped off by an unforeseen force as the mud forms arms and tendrils and stalks topped with eyes – eyes all focused on the intense red glow now emanating from the mark upon Salem's chest.

The eerie gloom of her bathroom was seared away by a sudden mercurial glare from behind her, and with a feral snarl, Salem's fingers bent and twisted into vicious claws as she glared at the sudden light that had manifested not even a few feet from her bath. She gritted her teeth, allowing her ages-old will to smother the pain in her chest and let her focus. Around her, the various tendrils and claws readied to strike, coiling up and tensing as they too focused on the steely glow…

…and then it was gone.

Salem's eyes narrowed as she glared at the woman who had suddenly manifested before her, those dark eyes flitting about, drinking in the details of her bathhouse's architecture. She stood there, resplendent in provocative robes of black and teal, her long pale-blonde hair accentuating a provocative, sinister frame adorned with red markings in what would be considered quite tantalizing places. Atop her head sat a crown – a crown! – inlaid with the same black-and-teal colouring as her robes.

And all the while her face still kept that curious, downright impressed expression – until the woman's steely eyes met Salem's volatile red ones.

"My most illustrious Master," she began, sauntering forward without a care in the world – and then her eyes dipped down, and down, as a very appreciative grin blossomed on her lips. "My, Mistress," she purred. "You certainly know how to make a grand first impression-"

With a violent hiss, Salem commanded the ooze in her bath, a single violent slashing motion spurring them into attack. They lashed at the strange woman, whistling through the air with the intent to maim and capture. Her target spared but a moment to let surprise flicker across her features – before her grin turned downright excited as she muttered under breath. With a single grandiose gesture and a final exclamation in a language Salem couldn't hope to understand, the woman cast her hands forward in a theatrical gesture…

..and once again the eerie dimness of the room was dispelled – this time by sinister violet light that seemed to manifest at the woman's fingertips.

Just like Salem's revitalizing sludge, the clouds of purple mist seemed to drink of what little light there was in the room, turning black at their core as they snaked and writhed and dueled viciously with the arms and tendrils spawned from Salem's chaotic mud. Every touch rent the tarry blackness as the mist seemed to eat away at what it touched, severing tendrils, cremating arms and piercing eyes with reckless abandon as they coiled around their wielder like a shield of fog.

Salem's consciousness spread outwards as she commanded more tendrils to rise from her bath, and she gave the command to her legions to make haste. Again her many arms lashed at the impostor, and with even greater focus they tried to snake their way past the tendrils of mist, aiming to yank the woman clean out of her little dome of safety. The wretched woman looked to be having the time of her life, excitement flickering in her eyes clear as day as she muttered yet another phrase under breath. Bolts of inky darkness flew from her fingertips, impacting Salem's arms and tendrils right at their very base and severing them cleanly, allowing the formless mud they reverted back into to go splashing down on the ancient marble flooring.

Shadows danced across the moonlight pouring in from the windows, and with a cacophonous crash the legions of Grimm came pouring into Salem's bathhouse. Beringels roared with fury and hate as they slammed down on the floor, cracking and sundering the marble beneath their mighty fists as a flock of Nevermores of all shapes and sizes flooded the tall room, circling above, their sinister eyes seemingly staring at the newcomer in unison. Then in between the roaring and the hissing came the chittering, as hordes of Arachneae came crawling through the shattered windows and crawling along the walls, mandibles clacking madly as their eight eyes shone with malice and contempt.

The strange woman stared at Salem's monsters with fascination, muttering words of contemplation and amazement under her breath…

…and Salem took that chance to strike.

A tendril danced through the now docile clouds of purplish-black mist, and wrapped around the woman's arm. Her gaze snapped down to look at the appendage, more with curiosity than actual shock – and she yelped as the tendril pulled her clean off her feet. As though the woman weighed nothing it swung her like a ragdoll, yanking her past Salem and slamming her viciously into the now-faded bronze mural that had been built at the head of the baths. With a resounding thud loud enough to drown out the roars and shrieks of the Grimm for a moment, she impacted – before more arms and tendrils sprang from the mud of Salem's bath to pin the woman's other limbs in place. The clouds of black-purple mist evaporated then, flickering and fading away, seemingly merging with the intense rays of moonlight now streaming into the room.

So much had been used that the sludge had actually receded – Salem felt it trailing off her lower back and down her legs, pooling with the rest just above her knees.

The strange woman, pinned but infuriatingly calm and painless, seemed to notice this as her eyes travelled down again – and Salem sneered as the thing had the gall to giggle almost bashfully.

Livid, Salem waded forwards, forcing her legs through the mud even as it receded at her command, parting to the sides of the bath to let her move unhindered. She stopped a distance from the pinned woman, eyes narrowed with scorn as locked gazes with her. This strange woman, despite being pinned and immobilized, still looked at her with fascination and intrigue – those dark, steely-green eyes of hers seemed to be evaluating Salem as much as Salem was evaluating her.

"Who," Salem spoke finally, "are you?"

The strange woman stared for a moment, before smiling – mischievously. "Why, my Mistress," she said, her void irritatingly void of pain or discomfort. "I am but your humble Servant, here to escort you to victory and riches in this most vaunted Holy Grail War."

Salem's eyes narrowed. "I do not recall having a servant such as you," she said venomously. "Nor do I know anything of this little 'Grail War'." Her eyes narrowed. "I have lived for eons now, girl – do not dare to try and deceive me. Make sense. Now."

Surprise – honest surprise – flashed through the woman's eyes at that moment. With a curious hum she closed her eyes and let her head lean back, muttering under her breath again. Salem tensed as she called the Beringels and Arachneae closer, keeping them poised to attack in case this witch tried to-

Her eyes shot open, wonder shining in those steely-green orbs, as a wide smile parted her lips. "Oh…" She said breathlessly. "Oh, my, my, my… How curious… My esteemed Mistress," she asked, "what world is this that I have been so carelessly flung into?" She looked around. "Creatures of darkness, yet void of magic… A sundered moon and a sinister hand that grips this verdant world's hope like a vice… It is so… different…"

Salem frowned. "You are testing my patience," she said dangerously.

The strange woman's features smoothed out, then – gone was the edge of deviousness, the opportunistic glint in her eyes. She relaxed back against the brass mural, exhaling lightly. "My Mistress," she spoke, calmly, measuredly. "I have as many questions as you do, no doubt. I do not know this world, at all, and you do not know me. But…" She smiled, again. "You know much of this world. And I, well…" Slowly, she wiggled her fingers, and once Salem's attention was fixated on the limb, she snapped them once – loudly, crisply. Before the Grimm Queen's eyes, archaic lines of deep red snaked and crawled along the limb, from the shoulder up to the fingertips…

Then, as though the tendril now straining to hold her arm in place meant absolutely nothing, the woman moved the limb and tapered her hand into a single, pointing finger, slowly and carefully drifting to Salem's chest – and to the glowing, blood-red marks etched there. Salem clenched her hands and willed her Grimm even closer, eyes narrowed with focus and the promise of retribution towards this woman if any trickery were to take place. Finally, the woman's finger came to rest on the marks, lightly resting upon stained alabaster skin. Between the red lines criss-crossing her finger, a green one bloomed, and pulsed, and glowed…

…and the dull ache lingering beneath that accursed mark faded.

"I know what these are, my Mistress," the woman said softly, with a promising smile. "These marks serve as proof of your contract with me; three absolute commands that can defy the very reality around us, and make me obey without the possibility of question. They symbolize mastership, my Mistress; they are testament, to your status as my liege."

"And what manner of being are you," Salem asked, "that you are bound in such a way to these marks? To my will?" She took a step back, and frowned as the dull ache beneath her marks returned the moment the strange woman's finger left her skin. With a curious gaze, the woman drew her hand back, once more as though the muddy limb straining to pin it back against the mural meant absolutely nothing. Those envy-green eyes fixated on the splotch of black blood clinging to her fingertip –

And then, with one swift motion, the woman stuck said finger into her mouth, her lips closing around the digit, her eyes boring straight into Salem's slightly shocked gaze as she sucked the blood off. The woman's eyes widened slightly as she withdrew her finger – and that curious light turned into a knowing one, as she smirked. "My Mistress," she said levelly, smirk growing wicked. "I am beyond everything you have in your vast, near-endless horde. And yet… I offer you inevitable victory, in a catastrophe the likes of which your world never has, and never will, see again."

"And what catastrophe would this be?" Salem inquired, as her claws reverted back to normal-looking fingers.

The woman smiled – widely, excitedly. "Destruction," she said simply, "on a scale you cannot hope to comprehend. More like me are coming, my Mistress. Six more, as the rule goes. Many more, if this instance is an exception. I cannot know more until I learn more about this strange new world, my Mistress," she said simply. "And I must beseech you; aid me in this endeavour. I will steer this catastrophic war unto your enemies, I will sunder the very foundations of their hopes and I will bring their nations to ruin… just as I have, before," she said, her smile turning absolutely wicked.

"And I am supposed to trust you?" Salem inquired. "Despite how utterly convenient your words sound?"

The woman smiled again, her eyes once more drifting far, far lower than the mark carved into Salem's chest, before meeting her gaze once more. "With those marks upon your chest," she said levelly, "you could strip me of everything that makes me unique. You can steal away my very will, bind me to dutifully serve your every command, or break me into a tool, a slave, even – all with but a wilful command. My Mistress…" She said, with the first hints of honesty she'd known since her arrival, "betraying you is a fool's action, and I am no fool. My loyalty is yours – I am but your humble Servant."

Salem continued to stare, unimpressed. "And yet," she said, her tone venomous, "you still have not told me who you are."

The woman met her venom with grace, and a smile. "I, am Caster – Heroic Spirit of Spellcraft and Sorcery," she said simply. "Unorthodox as it may have been, I have heeded your summons, my Mistress, and intend to fight by your side and deliver victory unto you."

"Caster…" She said, her eyes drifting towards the lines adorning the woman's arms. With a cautious flex of her fingers, the tendril still straining to pin this Caster's arm in place relented and relinquished its grip, withdrawing back to its half of the parted mud. The other tendrils did much the same, quickly melting back into the tar from which they'd spawned. "A pseudonym?"

A contemplating look crossed Caster's features for a moment – before she closed her eyes, shrugged to herself and smiled. "A pseudonym, of sorts, indeed," she said softly. "One that… I dare say serves no purpose now. We Servants, are forged from myth and legend, my Mistress," she said, meeting Salem's gaze again. "We are elevated by belief, to match the outrageous feats of our legends, and by that very nature our true names hold vast power for those who learn it. To know a Servant's true name, is to know their weakness, to know how to break them down and destroy them utterly. It is usually a matter of secrecy… But," she said coyly, smiling as she slowly sauntered forwards. "I have no need for secrecy. Let my legend be known – and they will know, also, that I have no weakness. To you, I offer my true name, and with it, absolute dominion over my existence."

And with those words, Caster bowed, theatrically and yet, subserviently as can be. And as she bowed she held Salem's gaze, and spoke:

"Morgan le Fay… At your service, my most illustrious Master…"

As the crisp morning sunlight filtered through the windows to Goodwitch's classroom, Weiss couldn't help but sigh at the sudden feeling of déjà vu she experienced at that moment. The locale was different, as was the time of day…

"You think this has something to do with that Merlin guy?"

"Well, Schnee's here – might be about that Knight of hers?"

"I wonder when we're getting our magic fighters…"

…but once again, every student bearing the 'Marks of Command' was assembled and piled into a room, and once again the cacophony was the likes of which only such a vast group of people could possibly create. At least this time that whole awkward mess of having Shielder manifest, and having to explain his nature, wasn't looming overhead. As it stood, the Knight was materialized and standing by her side, letting his curious gaze once again drift across the benches now occupied by 'potential Masters' as they'd been dubbed.

Once again, she heard Ruby sigh theatrically from beside her.

She couldn't bring herself to chide her, though. Weiss knew better than to think, at this point, that her close friend and leader had 'better ways' to spend a Saturday – especially when things like magic warriors and corrupted wishmakers were involved – but it was absolutely no secret that stuffy events like this one weren't exactly Ruby's cup of tea.

The clicking of heels quickly caught Weiss' attention, and she wound up looking to the side and saw Coco Adel approaching. The fashionista appraised Shielder with a raised eyebrow and a smirk before stopping at the vacant seat in front of Weiss' spot, and resting a knee in the seat as she propped her arms on the desk. "Two major meetings in as many days," she said, sounding somewhat tired even as she grinned cheekily. "You really don't do things halfway when you decide to shake things up, huh Schnee?"

"Please," Weiss responded, rolling her eyes. "If you think I routinely do things like this then you and I need to have serious words about what you think goes on at all those charity balls and events."

Coco chuckled at the response. "Nice save. You got any idea what this one's about?" She asked. "I mean, there's still a lot that Merlin guy has to expand on, but I think he covered all the basics yesterday…" Her expression fell then. "Unless today is his little in-depth lesson. If that's the case I think we're going to be here a while…"

"Daunting as the possibility sounds," Weiss responded, looking at all the assembled students, "if Ozpin thinks it's necessary to have another 'lesson' about this Grail War, then it's for the best. Shielder here told us some things that the… the 'classes' are capable of," she said, drumming her fingers on the desk. "Let's just say… We're going to need all the prep work and tactical knowledge we can get."

"That bad, huh?" Coco muttered.

"Archers can apparently fire projectiles several miles far," Weiss admitted lowly. "At speeds that more often than not break the sound barrier. Meanwhile Riders can apparently bring anything from magic ships to magic armies to the fray and Casters are outright sorcerers."

Coco's sunglasses slid down the bridge of her nose, letting all of Team Ruby see the somewhat dumbstruck dullness in her eyes. "…For real, now?" She asked hesitantly. Weiss merely nodded, and Coco bit her lip. "Well, shit. That's comforting. And here I was hoping we'd get to see Shielder in action," she said, motioning to the Knight. Upon receiving an apologetic smile in return, Coco simply shook her head. "I mean I still want to. My team wants to, as well, after what you guys told us. Now, well… I was going to suggest a friendly spar – us four against your magic knight. Now… Now I don't wanna."

"Wise of you. Very wise."

Everyone assembled jumped, or twitched, or flinched slightly as Merlin's voice suddenly echoed from behind them. Several dozen sets of eyes whirled to see the speaker, locking onto him as he strode through the door, followed closely by Ozpin and Glynda. "I'm told quite fervently that your Auras elevate you above and beyond what a normal human is capable of," he said as he slowly, almost laboriously descended the stairs. "Unfortunately I'm plagued by doubt nonetheless. Where I'm from even standard magecraft rarely helps in a battle against a Heroic Spirit. I'd be more than willing to evaluate how your Auras and Semblances work, to theorize how they could help should you ever come face-to-face with a hostile Servant," he said, stopping, "but that will have to come at a later date."

"First of all," Ozpin said, stepping forward, "I thought it would be prudent to thank you all, for your willingness to gather here again today. Merlin and I spoke for a long time, well into the early hours of the morning, trying to figure out a way to eliminate most of the unknowns regarding the catastrophic event that's looming on the horizon."

"Your Auras," Merlin continued, "seem to be taking the place of the various instances of magic that would be at play in a normal Grail War, back where I come from. The Headmaster here has graciously taken to seeing some kind of safety net is set in place in the other kingdoms, where more potential Masters may lurk. But I am woefully in the dark. The groundwork has been all but rewritten, and I'm left in the precarious position of having to re-learn all the mechanics of this blasted catastrophe from scratch, in a world I am scarcely familiar with. To that end, I was hoping I could impeach you all to aid me."

"It bears mentioning that as of this moment," Goodwitch stepped forwards, addressing the assembly. "None of you are obligated to be here. For the sake of Merlin's studies, this will merely be a set of sparring sessions, testing the limits of your Auras and the capabilities of your Semblances while under… analysis by Merlin's peculiar abilities."

"Secrecy is still very much important," Ozpin continued. "The information you've been made privy to is sensitive, and dangerous – but we are not intending to restrain or isolate you for it, nor will we obligate you to anything. In fact…" He paused, taking a breath. "One of the very crucial stipulations we've given Merlin here, is that he finds a way to remove these 'Command Spells' as soon as possible – for the sake of those who want no part in this understandably unbelievable series of events."

"In the absence of the magics that would usually sustain these Summonings," Merlin spoke again, "I'm left with the firm belief that your Aura has somehow bridged the gap left, in some way or form." He took a deep breath. "Learning what Aura is, exactly, has filled me with a great amount of dread and worry. To bind a being such as a Servant to your very soul… I cannot possibly know the specifics thereof but every instinct I have is screaming that it is very dangerous. I must know more before I can do anything to aid you further."

"Above all else," Ozpin spoke again, "you have been entrusted into Beacon Academy's care not as test subjects or participants in studies, but as our students. Our job is to nurture you, to help you grow, to forge you into the very best people, and warriors, you can be. Your safety and well-being is my first and utmost priority in this situation. So anyone who does not wish to partake in this is free to leave. You will not be judged."

"I will need some time," Merlin said, flinching as he nursed his injured side. "A fair bit of time, to set up all the necessary wards, runes and sigils to gather the data I need, in this little arena and upon you all as well. The idea," he said, slowly descending further down the steps, "is to create an environment that assures not only the success of my studies, but your absolute safety as well." He smirked, stopping to shoot a cheeky grin in Ozpin's direction. "Your Headmaster swore he'd have my hide otherwise." He turned back, and started moving towards the combat area again. "To that extent, I am afraid I must disappoint you all if you were hoping to see Shielder in action; I have absolutely no intention of matching any of you against him."

Several hushed whispers followed the statement, as teams and partners fervently discussed the latest happenings amongst one another.

"The fact of the matter is that I doubt there's anyone among you capable of standing on equal ground with a Heroic Spirit," Merlin said as he reached the arena. "They are beings elevated to godlike levels of power and ability, shaped and strengthened by the collective belief and reverence of hundreds of generations. I dare say," he smirked, "the only person in this room I believe can even make Shielder show some effort, is your dear Headmaster over there." The smirk widened. "So unless you all want to badger him into sparring with Shielder, you're somewhat out of luck."

This time the whispers were louder than they'd been on either day, Weiss noticed, as she looked up at Shielder. The knight had a single eyebrow raised at what was said – but it seemed almost as though he had a contemplative look in his eyes. All around them, various tones of awe and excitement drifted up to the ceiling, a wave of almost-static stifling the room. "Hey now," Merlin raised a hand in a placating manner. "Settle down children. It was a jest. I'm not eager to see anyone try to face a Heroic Spirit just yet-"

"Actually…"

The static of whispers and murmurs evaporated almost instantaneously as Shielder up, leaving only silence in its wake as Shielder contemplatively scratched his chin, his gaze fixed on Ozpin. Weiss felt a hint of nervousness creep into her chest as she realized that Shielder still had that same contemplative gleam in his eyes. "Headmaster," he addressed Ozpin. "I was wondering if such a thing could be made a reality, sometime?"

…And once again, the assembled gaggle of students used excited whispers and hushed murmurs to fill the classroom with static.

"Settle down!" Goodwitch barked, quickly – and firmly – reinstating the silence that had temporarily reigned.

"You wish to spar against me?" Ozpin asked Shielder, an expression of mild surprise on his face.

"Aye," Shielder answered. "I'll not dare to even draw my blade against one of these students," he said simply, courteously. "They are young, and inexperienced yet. But you, Headmaster, you carry yourself with an air of confidence and preparedness one would see in only the most venerable of veteran warriors. And I must admit I have been curious to see what a Huntsman of Remnant is capable of at their peak." He paused. "It's hardly a matter of great urgency, after all – but it would be an enlightening experience."

"Oi now," Merlin spoke up, a sour expression on his face. "I'm supposed to be the troublemaker here, Boy. What nonsense are you spitting now?"

I have to admit I'm curious as well, Galahad, Weiss spoke up through her link with the knight, her eyes slowly drifting between him and the Headmaster. Is this… some kind of scheme?

"Hardly, my lady," came Shielder's reply. "It is not my intent to cause trouble of any sort – but I was not lying when I said I was curious about what a veteran in the use of Aura and Semblance can do. And who better to have such a veteran fight at their absolute best than a Servant made to take inordinate amounts of punishment?" He asked glibly.

Weiss looked around, straining her hearing to see what the assembled students had to say – not that she really needed to, though. Despite the arguably serious nature of the day's gathering, the mere idea of seeing Professor Ozpin of all people step into a sparring ring was enough to rile the students up something fierce. Even now, smiles and wide, excited eyes seemed to be the running theme as teams spoke under one another about the surprising new turn of events.

She jumped slightly as a tiny finger poked her in the ribs, and Weiss whipped her head to the side with a soft yelp, meeting Ruby's curious gaze. "…D'you think he's gonna do it?" She asked, her voice a tiny, tiny whisper.

Of course, Weiss thought to herself, her stare turning dry as she looked at Ruby. The little reaper at least had the sense to fidget bashfully under Weiss' half-hearted glare, idly pressing her fingers against one another. "I mean," Ruby continued, "it's… not every day we get to see Ozpin himself fight, you know? And, well, he does have Aura so maybe Merlin could get some, uh, data from a spar between Ozpin and Shielder? Who knows right?"

Merlin knows, Weiss thought to herself, her exasperated glare still piercing into Ruby's eyes. And he doesn't look very impressed with the suggestion.

Ozpin let his gaze linger on Shielder a while longer, before contemplatively looking at the assembled students, carefully listening to all the whispers floating about. As his eyes drifted across the assembled students, Weiss could see Merlin, down at the sparring arena, sigh and press a palm to his face, muttering something under his breath as his shoulders sagged visibly. "Would such a display still suit your studies, Merlin?" Ozpin finally asked, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly upwards as the currents of whispers and mutters around him quickly turned into a collective gasp.

"I'm very tempted to say no," Merlin said with a sour expression on his face, glaring quite sternly at Shielder. "That," he said, pointing at the knight, "is a force of nature. I can't very well adorn this little arena's floor with wards and runes because it will likely all get trampled underfoot when that oaf decides to cut loose," he said, before sighing. "However, I'm far from spiteful-Boy!" He hissed as Shielder chuckled at that last spoken phrase.

'Why am I getting the feeling that Merlin just told a bold-faced lie?' Weiss asked through her bond with Shielder.

"That is because he did, my lady," came Shielder's entertained response. "Merlin is fickle, capricious, and quite capable of being spiteful. As soon as all the secrecy is over and done with I'll be more than happy to regale you with tales of the many, many victims of Merlin's vicious tomfoolery."

"As I was saying," Merlin quickly said, "I've half a mind to say no. But… lying will serve little purpose here. A simple Bounded Field could be altered in such a way that I can observe whatever transpires on a deeper level. It is nowhere near as effective as the entire array I planned to set up…" He sighed. "But I will admit Shielder's not the only one curious to see what a veteran of this world can do. I had hoped to let it wait until a more suitable time and place," he said, once again glaring at Shielder, who simply raised an eyebrow at his outrage. "But if you really want to take him up on his little challenge, I won't stop you. Just… give me a minute or two to rest after creating the Bounded Field," he said grumpily. "At least let me prepare to heal you in the event something goes wrong."

At this point the excited whispers and hushed discussions had all but died out as the assembled students awaited the final decision with bated breath. Ruby looked about ready to jump out of her seat, Weiss noticed, but supposed the little reaper couldn't really be faulted for that. Everyone present was excited to a degree at the mere thought of seeing the Headmaster in action. Weiss… couldn't deny that she was at least a bit excited, too. Worried, as well, certainly – she remembered full well what Shielder was capable of, after all. Ozpin would have to be quite powerful to match him…

She blinked, and palmed her face. Dammit all. The excitement building in the room was damn near infectious.

It didn't take long before some of the older students, who'd known the Headmaster a fair while longer, started clapping and cheering as Ozpin stood there, considering the Knight's proposal. Some whooped and whistled, and eventually the younger ones started joining in as well. To Weiss' great consternation even Yang was joining the attempt to egg Ozpin into accepting the brawl, but that was hardly surprising. Be it watching one or being in one, it was no secret that the blonde loved a good brawl.

…and there, even Pyrrha seemed eager to see the spar happen.

Weiss sighed. She supposed such was going to be a norm of sorts, at a school for warriors.

"Well, they all seem eager enough to spectate," Shielder mused with a slight grin as he stood appraising the crowd. "What say you, Headmaster? Shall we?"

Ozpin pondered the proposition for a while more, studiously studying the assembled, excited crowd with a smile of his own. Finally, he sighed, nodded, and reached for the cowl nestled around his neck.

"Very well," he said simply. "I suppose indulging in their excitement can't hurt…"

"Well then!" Merlin spoke from his seat beside Goodwitch, at the very front of the class. His eyes hovered upon the little sparring arena, peering through the translucent dome that surrounded it and shielded those seated behind their desks from the worst of the "fallout" that was hinted to be incoming. "How does this work, usually? I take it those screens up there monitor the combatants?"

Before them, Ozpin and Shielder stood opposing one another in the small arena. Ozpin had forgone his jacket and the cowl around his neck, letting his undone collar rest lamely around his neck. The Headmaster was standing quite casually, but the way his cane was extended and at the ready and the focused gleam in his eyes was enough to tell the assembled students that he was well prepared to fight. Across from him, Shielder stood with an appraising smile. His lavender cloak had been tossed aside, evaporated into flecks of light. His enormous shield hung upon one arm, and with the other he had a firm grasp of his simplistically ornate longsword. He himself opted for a more traditional ready-stance; his shield was faced firmly in Ozpin's direction, with the blade of his sword pointing at his opponent, poised in a stabbing position as it rested in the notch carved into the side of the cross that had been worked into the shield.

"Those screens simply display a more encompassing array of data gathered from the combatants' personal scrolls," Goodwitch clarified. "Those Hunters with access to a scroll are supplied with large amounts of information about the state of their Aura, and vitals, as displayed on those screens. Usually, however, a more simplistic, summarized version was developed for personal scroll use." She had opted to stand, whereas Merlin had taken a seat. While some intrigue shone in her green eyes, she herself was poised to intervene at a moment's notice. "The more public overlay you see up there is tied to more educational, more sportsmanlike systems. Alarms and notifications in case of critical Aura levels and injuries, and the like."

Merlin hummed as he stared at the green bar beneath Ozpin's portrait, displayed proudly on the left-side screen. The screen that should have displayed Shielder's statistics - on the right - was shut off; a simplistic solution for Shielder's inability to be linked to the monitoring software. "I take it there is a certain threshold at which point you cancel the spars, Miss Goodwitch?" He asked, eyeing Ozpin's Aura reading. "A percentage of sorts?"

"A personal percentage, yes," Glynda answered. "No two Hunters have the same amount of Aura. Their scrolls measure what they have as a whole, what they have left at any given time, and works out a percentage based on that. As the Aura gauges deplete," she said, pointing at the green bar, "it changes colour the closer it comes to critical levels. Yellow for Cautionary Levels, and red for Critical. At that point a klaxon is sounded and the spar is ended."

"Hmmm… Alright then," Merlin said with a nod. "Shielder, make sure you gauge your strength appropriately as you fight. I've no firm idea of Aura's raw durability so be very careful." He blinked, then looked over to Ozpin. "You can go mad, though. Seriously, fight like you want to kill him. He's been far too uppity today."

"Hypocrisy aside, Merlin does have a point, Headmaster," Shielder said heartily. "I want you to hold nothing back; show me everything you are capable of. Fight as though I am your sworn enemy."

"Are you sure about that?" Ozpin asked, as he assumed a more fitting ready-stance. One foot slid back as he bent his legs, and his cane quickly drifted into a defensive position. His free hand tensed as he readied to move, and his eyes studied his opponent intently.

Galahad merely offered a grin, and tensed, armour clinking as he shifted his stance ever so slightly.

"I have absolutely no idea how we're going to gauge Shielder's status as the fight goes on," Merlin said with a strained voice as he hobbled to his feet. "Nor do I know how well Ozpin's Aura will hold up against an assault from a Heroic Spirit. So, a compromise: The spar goes until the first person yields, or – in the event of something unforeseen – until I decide that it's gone on long enough. Do both of understand these terms, and agree to them?"

"I do," Shielder responded.

"As do I," came Ozpin's reply.

"Very well," Merlin said, steadying himself against his staff. "Miss Goodwitch? Is there a countdown timer or something?"

With a simple nod, Goodwitch opened her own scroll and quickly typed in a few commands. The arena's personal barrier rose up around the dome that Merlin had created to monitor the battle, shimmering slightly before fading into translucency, and a loud chime signified the word "Ready" on the massive screen above the two combatants.

The first chime sounded.

Ozpin flourished his cane, eyes glowing slightly his legs coiled. He seemed to glow, ever so slightly, as a clockwork sigil appeared beneath his feet, ticking away at a breakneck pace as his knuckles turned white around his cane's grip.

The second chime sounded.

Violet light swirled around Shielder, tousling his hair and making the looser bits of his armour dance with a soft tingling melody. It coiled around him, embracing him, as his eyes lit up with a vibrant glow. The pleasant light danced along the silvery flat of his blade, making it gleam as tension started building in the room.

The final chime sounded-

Weiss jumped as the fight started in the blink of an eye; a small shockwave kissed her face and splayed her ponytail out behind her, and the room erupted into cries and cheers of surprise and awe as everyone present's mind quickly caught up to the events. The parts of the floor where the two combatants had stood a mere fraction of a second prior had been all but sundered underfoot, reduced to shattered stone and dust as the two combatants had lunged at one another. Deadlocked at the centre of the arena they now stood, Ozpin's cane clashing against Shielder's blade as the weapons locked into a deadly standoff. Licks of sparks jumped from where the two weapons strained against one another, and Shielder's smile seemed to grow as Ozpin himself fought with both hands to brace against the Knight's blade.

All around her voices hollered and cheered and-

With a resounding clash loud enough to make Weiss wince, they broke their clash, and resumed the offensive. A cacophonous thundering shook the very desks the students sat behind as cane clashed against sword and shield.

Steel glinted as Shielder pressed the offensive, his blade rearing back and stabbing forwards like a snake as he advanced on the Headmaster. With a flash of clockwork the blade missed its mark, and Shielder turned on his heel and braced as Ozpin's cane slammed into his shield with enough force for the resulting clang to echo off the walls. They were moving so fast Weiss' eyes could only barely track them, two blurs of green and silver dancing between clouds of dust kicked up by the backlashes of their attacks.

In front of her, Coco made to lower her sunglasses. They slid off the bridge of her nose and went clattering to the floor as she stood, transfixed on the sight before her. She didn't even notice the glasses dropping. "What… the he-"

Weiss jumped again as another shockwave pushed her desk back against her. Yet again, the two combatants were deadlocked for the briefest moment before breaking and attacking once again.

Silver flashed as Shielder brought his blade down in an overhead swing, tracked not by blade itself but by the lilac glimmer it left in the air as it descended. With his kite shield he firmly batted a snaking blow from Ozpin's cane aside and struck true – and once more, the tip of his blade struck a faded clockwork glyph. Shielder flinched, stumbled slightly as Ozpin's cane struck the back of his knee with resounding force and in a blink the Headmaster was before him, aiming a vicious flurry of blows past his now exposed guard. Grinning, Shielder pushed forward with his good leg; a rattling impact struck the side of his face, drawing a collective gasp from the assembled crowd – but the blow hardly even made his smile falter, and with a resolute step he was inside the arc of Ozpin's swings. Void of space to swing his blade he opted to drive the tip of the crossguard forwards in a brutal punch, already moving his shield to cover his flanks – and intercepting the blow coming from there as Ozpin moved faster than the eye could reliably track.

Pivoting where he stood and shifting his guard, Shielder once again made to attack, his blade singing through the air in a horizontal strike. Ozpin himself braced for the impact, readying his cane for a deflecting strike as he firmly adjusted his footing. The silver sword slammed against the shaft of the cane, and as sparks flew from the clash of steel against steel Ozpin just barely managed to turn the blow aside in time to spare himself his fingers. The cane danced as Ozpin adjusted his footing, readying to turn away the retaliatory strike; he stumbled to the side as the vicious backhand slash slammed against the guard of his cane, and he twisted his body and pivoted the blade before knocking it upwards with a grunt and a flash of clocks in his eyes. With a resolute shove, a split-second opening was forced into the pleasantly surprised Knight's guard, and Ozpin capitalized –

His cane slammed home against Shielder's chin, with enough force to tousle the knight's hair and make the grip of the cane slide ever so slightly in his grip. The meaty impact ushered silence into the room…

…and yet, Shielder did not even flinch. His grin had bled away into a surprised smile, before his eyes flashed-

Ozpin balked and moved as the shadow of the massive kite shield overhead darkened his vision, and stumbled as the shield was brought down with definitive post-human strength. He swayed where he stood as the arena floor beneath them shattered like glass under the blow from the large kite shield, a stormcloud of dust springing from the sundered arena as the entire room shook under the blow. With a bleary whine the barrier keeping the debris and shrapnel contained sprung to life, vibrating under the flechettes of stone sent flying aside as the crowd gasped, some even diving beneath their desks as cracks spiderwebbed across the surface of the arena, erupting out the sides of the platform and blasting clouds of dust and tiny bits of rock into the assembled students as the windows trembled in their panes and the curtains billowed wildly.

The cloud evaporated, and the two combatants squared off again, and-

"Oi! Oi!" Merlin interjected, bopping his staff against the barrier containing the fight. "That's too much, Boy! Far too much!" He said with a huff, nursing his side. "Let's not create too much work for Miss Goodwitch here, aye?" He said, pointing at the shield. "Get rid of that, at least. Before you make the whole bloody class collapse in on itself."

"What…" With an errant cough, Coco crawled out from beneath the desk, and shot a worried look at the centre of the arena, now a crumbled, shattered mess. "What the shit, man?"

"That was awesome," Yang replied with a manic grin, patting at her face and wiping off most of the dust that had come to rest on her cheeks. "Is it over? Tell me it's not over."

Shielder considered Merlin's request for a moment or two, before simply shrugging and unhanding the massive kite shield he carried with him. The titanic wall of steel toppled precariously to the side before dissipating into flecks and motes of golden light, leaving the Knight to seize his sword properly with both hands. He let the hilt rest on the web between his thumb and index finger, pointing the tip of the blade at Ozpin as he braced the sword against the top of his forearm. "My apologies," he said simply. "Shall we continue?"

Wordlessly, Ozpin steadied himself, and in the blink of an eye he was back on the offensive, moving in unison with the cries of shock, surprise and elation from the students. The tip of the cane dragged against the ground as he kept himself low, weaving from side to side, disappearing and reappearing with flashes of clockwork sigils and green light.

Shielder met his first strike with an overhead swing, and a corona of mingling lilac and green danced around them as they moved around one another, raining blows against each other's guard with such intensity that the cacophony rivalled a thunderstorm. Blinding speed clashed against unfeeling, immovable defence as the Headmaster rotated his angles of attack around the knight. Cane met sword in a wailing lament of shrieking steel, flurries of blows from Ozpin's weapons turned aside by the flat of Shielder's blade as the sword struck air in retaliation.

Weiss' eyes strained as she fought to keep track of the combatants, and offhandedly she realized that not only was she standing in her seat, leant forward to better see the fight, but she wasn't even alone. Every student assembled beheld the fight with rapt attention, expressions varying from awe to fear to shock as they beheld the two blurs filling the arena floor with clouds of dust and sparks. Even Goodwitch seemed utterly focused on the fight, her brow knitted in absolute concentration.

Dozens of blows were exchanged in seconds between the Headmaster and the Knight, as sparks shot into the corona of intermingling green and lilac surrounding them. Ozpin's speed was beyond comprehension, as he moved so blindingly quick it would often appear as though there were two of him at a time as the beholder's mind fought to process the imagery. And yet Shielder, even without his shield, remained immovable, undaunted. In the absence of his greatest defence several of Ozpin's attacks found their way past his guard. They rained upon his armour and exposed face with enough strength to make the clouds of dust dancing around them flinch away under the force of the impact, and yet it achieved nothing. The cane cut at his cheeks and forehead, slammed against lips and teeth, and was turned away by skin and flesh of ludicrous durability every single time.

Sliver flickered as Shielder's sword finally slipped through Ozpin's guard, and the Headmaster's Aura flared under the impact as he was casually batted aside by the flat of the blade and sent flying. With gritted teeth he dug his heels into the ground, sliding to a stop while still standing, his cane in a defensive position even before he ground to a halt.

"Outstanding!" Shielder cheered as he took up his stance again, and attacked, the already fraying floor beneath his feet giving way as he barrelled towards Ozpin with frightening speed. The barrier containing the battle screamed as Shielder's blade struck hollow and rang against it as Ozpin evaded the strike, straining and flickering under the force of the blow even as Shielder rebounded his sword off it and into another vicious overhead strike. Again the sword struck air, and already Shielder adjusted his swing into a follow-up backhanded slash. As expected, Ozpin evaded – then balked, and evaded again as Shielder's now-free hand snuck a vicious hook into the mix. His fist lashed out yet again in another backhand as Ozpin danced between the blows of Shielder's newfound chain of attacks. The headmaster twirled to avoid a savage stab from the silvery blade, and jerked as Shielder's free hand seized him the collar and yanked him back into place. He hissed as the Knight's shin caught him behind the knee, a savage blow that brought the Headmaster to his knees as pain lanced through his lower leg. His aura flashed as he sank to his knee, and again as his attempt at defending Shielder's follow-up strike was found wanting; the flat of the blade kissed the side of his face, knocking him down as the sound of torn fabric rang through the room. He grit his teeth and moved, then, as he saw the blade descending through the dust overhead, and in a flash of clockwork he'd hurled himself aside, clamouring back to his feet as the flat of Shielder's sword sundered the ground where he'd lain a fraction of a second beforehand.

Ignoring the startled whispers of the crowd, he gingerly pressed a hand to the side of his head and chanced a look at the screen above. He frowned slightly as he saw his Aura was already edging perilously close to yellow. "Shall we stop, Headmaster?" Shielder asked, following Ozpin's eyes to the screen. He gave the Headmaster a genuine smile. "I'm more than willing to cease this here. My curiosity has been quite sated. Unless you wish to continue?"

Ozpin considered the proposition. The assembled students had gone right back to cheering and laughing, whistling and hollering as the two squared off. And there was yet something Ozpin could do in this battle… With a resolute nod, he took up a fighting stance again, and with a grin, Shielder did the same.

Weiss let her gaze jump between the two, worriedly eyeing Ozpin's aura gauge on the screen and wondering when-

Dust parted with a keening whistle as Ozpin shot forwards, eyes aglow with aura and spinning dials ticking around his irises. Shielder met his charge with gusto, raising that silvery blade above his head again, and preparing to strike. With a flicker it descended – and Ozpin dug his heels in, slowing himself to a dead stop in front of the Knight, and focused.

His Aura sprang to life, a vibrant green warmth humming loudly as a pockmarked barrier of green surrounded him. With a smirk of his own he met Shielder's gaze – the Knight seemed surprised for but a moment, a fleeting moment… but then his own smirk returned. His hands twisted around the pommel of the sword as the lilac glow around its blade shimmered a stark white. Ozpin saw the dancing moonlight crawling along the length of the sword, and slammed his cane down, bracing for impact just as Shielder unleashed a monstrous overhead strike.

The brilliantly-glowing blade slammed against the barrier with a maelstrom of wind and fury, drawing the clouds of dust into a violent dance around them as upended debris shook and the desks the students were sitting behind shuddered under the impact. Silver and green merged into a horrid shade as blade strained against barrier, bathing the room in an eerie lime glow as the sheer force given off by clash brought the arena's containment barrier back into visibility. Yet more cracks webbed across the surface of the arena, and once more the windows rattled in their panes –

And with a brilliant explosion of light and wind, the barrier shattered, sending debris ricocheting off the containment barrier once again as the assembled students yelped and hollered in both shock and awe.

From within the maelstrom, Shielder was sent stumbling back, blade smoking and armour stained with flecks of singed dust, yet still his smile remained in place. Ozpin shot forwards from his kneeling position, gears once again churning in his eyes as his Aura enveloped him completely in a corona of green. He darted towards Shielder with speed enough to blur the edges of his own vision, readying his cane to strike. With a grin, Shielder met him head-on, executing a near-perfect stab aimed squarely at his chest. Ozpin channelled his Aura into his weapon, clockwork sigils lining the shaft of the cane as he slide beneath the attack and slammed his weapon into the blade, forcing it away and-

The gears in his eyes churned – backwards – and once more his weapon was by his side, lashing out and catching the Knight square in the chest. Shielder's eyes actually widened slightly in surprise as the same clockwork glyphs that had helped Ozpin turn aside his blade sprang to life again, driving his cane home into the Knight's breastplate with unprecedented strength. Shielder's smile widened, as he dug his feet in – the floor split apart behind his heels as he was forced backwards by a blow of such strength the very impact of it blew away tiny bits of debris and shrapnel from where the stood, and the arena's containment barrier howled again as the Knight was forced clean into it.

Ozpin pushed forwards viciously, intercepting the Knight's retaliatory strike with a vicious blow to his sword-hand, ducking beneath the haymaker that snapped towards his face from the side as his cane slammed into the wrist of the hand Shielder wielded his sword with, and forced it back against the barrier with enough strength to make it shudder and howl again. Klaxons blared as the screen behind him flashed red, displaying a bright warning about how the containment barrier's integrity had been compromised. He paid it no mind, ducking behind another backhand, dancing out of the way of a vicious knee that would have struck him in the-

Stars danced across his vision, and the wind was knocked out of him with enough force to draw a strangled gasp from him as Shielder's shoulder slammed clean into his chest with enough force to make his lungs feel as though they'd collapsed. His Aura flared around the edges of his eyes and in the distance he only barely heard the warning klaxon that his Aura had slipped into the yellow zone. His cane slipped off Shielder's wrist, and the knight once more swung at Ozpin, the flat of his blade aimed directly at his side. He let his leg go limp, using the sudden drop to evade the swing, and once more brought his cane to bear against the blade as it returned in a retaliatory backhand. Sparks flew as the sword met the cane, and with a resolute push and a grunt he turned the blade away and off to the side again. From the corner of his eye he saw the Knight's fist tense for another strike, and he prepared-

Silver gleamed in his peripheral vision, and just in time did he spot the feint. He raised his cane and braced it against his forearm as Shielder's sword struck from above again, the sheer force behind the blow bringing Ozpin to his knees. Once again clockwork churned in his eyes, and flared along the shaft of his cane-

He jerked and sputtered as the fist that had threatened to strike him seconds before wrapped around his throat and hoisted him clean off his feet. The sword skidded off the shaft of his cane as Shielder turned on his heel and slammed Ozpin against the same barrier the Headmaster had been keeping him pinned against with his cane. Pain shot through his back in a fiendish, burning sensation, spreading from his shoulders all the way down his spine and into his lungs, and he coughed as he brought his cane to bear again-

The same hand that had him grasped by the throat yanked him forwards viciously, before Shielder slammed his forearm into Ozpin's chest and drove him back against the barrier with a vicious shove. Ozpin's fingers struggled to maintain a solid grasp on his cane, and stars danced across his vision even as he tried to twist himself free of Shielder's grasp. His Aura flared again, and he met Shielder's impressed gaze –

"That's quite enough."

…And as soon as the hold on his chest had been established, it was gone with one simple instruction from Merlin.

Ozpin allowed himself a cough, and nursed his throat as he cautiously stepped away from the containment barrier, mindful of how loose the decimated arena platform had become. The room was painfully silent as he looked at the relay screen displaying his information; the bar was still a sickly yellow – but it was closer to the red zone than he was comfortable with. With a chuckle, Shielder sheathed his blade and smiled. "Outstanding, Headmaster," he said with a courteous bow. "Truly outstanding – you are indeed a talented and capable warrior."

For a moment, silence reigned after Shielder's comment, and Ozpin took the chance to steady himself on his feet. Then the first student started clapping – then another, then another, and before long, Ozpin realized with an amused little smile that the cheering had started all over again. Few as they were, the students seemed to have enjoyed that little spar… If it could even have been called a spar, he thought, glancing at the thoroughly trashed arena as the containment barrier dropped. He had the sneaking suspicion Glynda was going to be bringing this up a lot in the future…

But as he looked back at the assembled students as he collapsed his cane and clipped it to his belt, and beheld their excited, elated expressions, he had to admit it was quite worth it.

The little brawl had even been quite fun, in the end.

He glanced back at Shielder as the knight made his way off the arena platform and back to his Master's side. Ozpin hadn't been pulling any punches when he struck at the so-called Servant… and yet, there was not a single blemish upon his face, not a single scratch or chip or even dent in the man's armour as he walked. All of that, he thought, and he's barely even winded. He smiled, himself, as he stepped down from the arena, adjusting his clothing back into a presentable state – or rather, as presentable as a shirt with a torn collar could be.

So that's a Heroic Spirit, he thought offhandedly as the cheering finally died down. What a monster…

"Well, now that your fighting appetites have all been whetted sufficiently," Merlin addressed the assembled students as Goodwitch repaired the arena with graceful flicks and arches of her crop, "I'm hoping that we can get back to the task at hand. I gathered… quite a surprising amount of information from that little spar, but I'm afraid it does not seem as though it will be enough." He paused, eyeing the crowd, before sighing.

"You all just saw what a Servant is capable of," he said warily. "And a mediocre one at that – one best suited to defence, while pulling his punches, as that poor arena can testify. The others – the Sabers, the Lancers, the Berserkers – they are nowhere near as reserved, nor as noble, in some cases. I am hoping Shielder's display as served as a warning to you all about what manner of debacle you have all been drawn into," he said. "It is a tragedy that some so young as you had be involved in this mess – and as your Headmaster told you, rest assured I am researching a way to remove these Command Spells from you post-haste. Those of you who would rather leave are free to do so now," he said simply, before his expression softened somewhat. "It is neither foolish, nor cowardly, nor sinful to be outmatched, children – the true sin is refusing to realize when you are. As amazing as you no doubt think these Servants are, this is not a game."

He paused, then, waiting to see whether or not anyone would take the opening to leave, to get away from all this chaotic nonsense and await the time and place to be relieved of this burden.

None did.

Some still had hesitation in their eyes. He could see it plain as day, after the fight they'd just borne witness to. But in that same breath he saw the determination on their features. He expected them to be cowed by the display, to be intimidated or enlightened as to just how dangerous these Servants were. Instead, it seemed the danger they posed was a motivating factor, rather than a deterring one. He smiled to himself, berating himself for thinking they'd back down. By Ozpin's own admission, these were the future protectors of humanity, against a wave of darkness the likes of which even he hadn't seen before. Of course they wouldn't back down.

Fools, they were. But brave fools, brazenly so.

"You've got quite the dedicated bunch here, Headmaster," he said to Ozpin with a wry grin, before turning back to the assembled students. "Now then, since everything is done, and none of you have taken the chance to run for the hills yet-"

He jerked then, slightly, as the door to the classroom was slammed open with a thunderous report. The students hopped in their seats, whirling around to face the new arrival as that rotund professor – Port, Merlin recognized him as – came hurriedly rushing into the room with a look of urgency on his face. "Professor Ozpin!" He spoke, his voice void of the grandeur and boisterousness Merlin had heard from him the day before. "We have an emergency – a dire emergency."

There it is. "Oh for god's sake…" He muttered, under his breath. It seemed as though his experiments for the day had just been cancelled. A part of him wondered if it was truly necessary – that part was quickly snuffed by the knowledge of the Grimm that the faculty had imparted upon him the previous night. If it was enough to spook a professor, Merlin admitted lamely, it was likely a serious matter.

Ozpin strode forwards then, his face set in a stern mask he approached Port. "What's going on?" He asked seriously.

Port took a breath, and shook his head. "Goliaths, Professor," he said seriously, the admission drawing several startled squeaks and gasps from the assembled crowd. "A small herd of them, with an Alpha, from Mountain Glenn. They're headed right for Vale."

For a mere moment, Ozpin paused – before nodding sternly. With a single gesture of his hands he pardoned the assembled students. "Back to your dorms," he said simply. "We'll call on you if we need you. This situation… is a priority alert. Go!" As one, the students started filtering out of the room with urgency, some excited, some worried, some even scared. "Merlin," Ozpin addressed the sorcerer, "I'm afraid-"

"Yes, yes, I understand," Merlin responded simply, already hobbling along. "With a name like that, I'm sure this is a very scary situation for everyone involved. My studies will have to wait. Unless, of course, you're sending your students out to help?"

"For the runts of the herd, perhaps," Ozpin said. "You believe it would be an opportunity to gather more knowledge?"

"I'll take whatever bloody chances I can get at this stage," he said simply as he followed the teachers out of the classroom. "Worst comes to pass I can even help fight, somewhat. Although I'd prefer not to…" He said lamely. "Wound beyond mending and all that jazz. Proper damper on one's spirit."

That seemed to signal an end to their back-and-forthing as they made haste towards… wherever the hell Ozpin was leading him, Merlin thought. Honestly… Well, at least the dreaded 'Goliaths' ought to prove interesting. And enlightening, as I've yet to see a single live Grimm so far.

He allowed himself a small smile, as klaxons started blaring all over the vaunted Academy.

Who knows? Perhaps I'll even witness a proper Summoning or two…

Post-Chapter A/N: Aaaaand CUT!

Heheheh... Well now. It's been almost... what, two years since the last update? As said in the pre-chapter A/N, I'm not even going to bother coming up with some convoluted excuse. My personal life simply got in the way. Numerous times. I sincerely apologize for the horrendously long wait for this update - I've sworn myself to a better, more consistent schedule. I doubt it'll do much good, just like the ones in the past did, but hey - there's a first time for everything, right?

...Right?

On to the important stuff, regarding this story:

Despite the poll results, I've nonetheless opted to add Servant Stat Sheets to a separate Google Doc, to ensure ease of use and easy access. Also so I can at least keep the lid on some of the "original" Servants' Noble Phantasms, if only so this story doesn't turn into a tedious 'Oh, Servant X can do Noble Phantasm Y so expect it at Scene Z^3' or something like that. The link is on my Profile page, under the R:TEE section under "Active Stories". At the moment, there are only two entries - but I'll be adding more with every new Servant introduced!

On the note of Galahad - yes, I am aware he's made an appearance in several Fate/Grand Order promotional materials. I'm also aware he's apparently a completely nihilistic cunt, firmly contrasting his legend. As such, in order to 'distance' this instance of Galahad from that absolute trainwreck, I'm going with my own characterization of him, based on what materials we had before the grand reveal of his assholery.

Nothing more to it than that. Despite the horrifically long wait, I hope it was an enjoyable read, and that it was well worth the time it took. Until then, we'll talk again when the next chapter drops - it's going to be quite a doozie! :D
-Chaos