Chapter 25: Honour
'One thing that set the Ruby Order apart from other factions in their time was their code of honour. While some contemporary scholars claim that the Four Maidens had no code of honour - an obvious attempt to disparage them that can be dismissed easily - it is true that the code cited by later scholars, often members of my own order, as well as that followed by the later incarnation of the Ruby Order, are of questionable veracity. In many works, one can easily see where the author substituted their own views for those of the Ruby Order or, in a blatant attempt to hide their lack of sources, claimed that the Ruby Order followed simple rules such as 'do good' and 'help those in need'. Such a simple code of honour, however, does not fit with the fact that all sources agree that from what they told about their homeland, they were raised in a civilisation with a sophisticated philosophy. A group with an origin like that would also have a sophisticated, evolved code of honour. Alas, for all their clear interventions in the politics of the Seven Kingdoms, the Ruby Order kept - with some notable exceptions - quite quiet about their own laws and views - likely because there were key differences between their views and those of Westeros that would have antagonised the majority of the population. Otherwise, their lack of any attempt to promote their own philosophies and views cannot be explained given their proven influence at court and on key members of the highest nobility of the realm.'
- A Treatise On The Ruby Order, by Maester Kennet Bracken
*****
The Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
"What's wrong, Jon?"
Jon Snow blinked as he realised that he was standing near the Kingsguard's training yard. He must have walked here without thinking. "Lady Yang? Lady Brienne?" he added when he noticed the noblewoman.
"What's wrong? And don't tell me nothing's wrong!" Lady Yang put both hands on her hips as she stared at him with narrowed eyes. "You look like you're in shock!"
"I'm not!" he retorted, sharper than he meant, "I'm sorry, my lady," he quickly added with a bow of his head.
"Yeah, sure, and I am Ozpin." She didn't look mollified, though whether it was because he had just contradicted her or because he had been too formal, he couldn't tell.
"Ah, who is Ozpin, Lady Yang?" Lady Brienne asked, sparing Jon from doing it - the name sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it.
"Ozpin's the headmaster of Beacon Academy, the Huntsman Academy of our home," Lady Yang explained.
Right. That was where he had heard the name before. Jon nodded.
"But we're not talking about school. We're talking about what's wrong with you, Jon." Lady Yang flashed her teeth as she leaned in closer, making Jon bend back as he struggled not to look away or to blush at how close she was.
By the Old Gods and the New, she was so beautiful, it hurt!
"So, who do I have to hit to make things better?"
He gasped. "None! There's nothing…" He flinched under her glare and looked away, then caught Brienne frowning as well. "It's private," he said. And lethally dangerous for his entire family.
"Ah." Lady Yang withdrew a bit, half a pace, but didn't smile - she kept frowning. "Private and weighing so much on your mind?" Her eyes widened. "Oh! Did you talk to your father?"
Jon stiffened. He had talked to Lord Eddard, not his father. "Ah…"
Sadly, Lady Yang had caught his reaction - and drawn her conclusions. She smacked her fists, still covered in her gauntlets, together.
"No!" he blurted out. "Yes, I talked to him. But it's not… It's not his fault."
"Oh." Lady Yang cocked her head to the side and tossed her beautiful mane of golden locks back before she glanced at Lady Brienne.
The noblewoman was already backing off with an apologetic smile. "I'll leave you to your private talk, my lady, Snow." She turned and started to walk away.
"So… Do you want to talk about it?" Lady Yang asked. "It's your decision, of course, but I know about missing mothers."
Jon closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. His mother had died long ago, but he still felt as if he had just witnessed it. "Lord Eddard told me about my mother, yes. She's dead. Died shortly after giving birth to me, actually." He blinked - his eyes were getting a bit blurry. "All those years, I hoped…" He drew a shuddering breath.
Lady Yang put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing very gently - he drew a sharp breath to mask his reaction - as she smiled sadly, and nodded. "You hoped to meet her. Talk to her. Ask why she had left you with your father. Why she wasn't there when you grew up."
He winced. For most of his life, he had thought he knew the answer to that: He was a bastard, and it had been bad enough that Lord Eddard had taken him in. If Lord Eddard had also taken in his mother… Lady Catelyn would not have tolerated either of them. And Lord Eddard, as the Lord Paramount of the North, would have provided him with a better life than the mother of a bastard. Even if she had been a noblewoman.
He snorted against his will as the irony struck him - his mother had been a noblewoman, as he had dreamt in the more naive days of his childhood. But Lord Eddard wasn't his father.
"I just wanted to meet her," he said, blinking again.
Lady Yang nodded again. "Yeah, I know the feeling."
Jon tried not to focus on the feelings she caused to grow inside him. Could he tell her the truth? About his mother, not about his feelings. She already knew those. But… this secret could destroy his family - would destroy them. Lord Eddard had been clear about that. He couldn't tell anyone, or he would doom his family.
And yet… Lady Yang was not merely a friend - a very close friend, if not as close as he wished she were. She was also one of the Four Maidens. Blessed by the gods with power and mercy beyond mortals. Willing to defy the most powerful people in the realm to protect even their worst enemies from any injustice.
If he couldn't trust her, whom could he trust? She didn't care that he was a bastard. None of the Four Maidens did. Who else had ever treated him like that?
And, he couldn't help thinking, why should he heed Lord Eddard's order after he had been raised in such ignorance all his life? If not for Lady Yang, Lord Eddard wouldn't have told him the truth until Jon was a man grown - his uncle had told him so himself. A few more years in ignorance, thinking Lord Eddard was his father, wondering about his mother, falsely hoping he could meet her one day…
He took a deep breath. "There's more, my lady. But it's a deadly secret." He bit his lower lip, hard enough to hurt. Could he really tell her? But if he didn't tell anyone… He couldn't stand it. It was too much. What he knew…
"Ah." She nodded. "I understand." She squeezed his shoulder. "You're sworn to silence."
He shook his head. "I didn't swear an oath, my lady." He glanced around. No one was close enough to overhear - the closest being was a raven on the roof nearby, but that was still too far. "Lord Eddard isn't my father," he said. That was the easy part.
She blinked, obviously surprised. "But…"
"My mother was his sister, Lady Lyanna," Jon whispered.
Lady Yang's eyes widened before she let out a hissing sound and grimaced. "That's… She was kidnapped by the last prince, wasn't she?"
He nodded. "Prince Rhaegar Targaryen." Lord Eddard hadn't explicitly told him that the Prince was his father, but he had made it clear without saying his name. And who else could it have been? The Prince had kidnapped Lady Lyanna - Jon's mother - and kept her prisoner in a tower guarded by three members of the Kingsguard until Lord Eddard had freed her - just in time to have her die in his arms after giving birth to Jon. And why would he have kept Jon's mother a secret if it had been someone else?
But also that meant Jon was the son of a rapist, not the child of an honourable man who had made a mistake during the war. Jon's mother had been dishonoured and forced to give birth to him - at the cost of her life.
Lady Catelyn had all the reasons to dislike or even hate him.
"Fuck."
Jon snorted. Lady Yang had a talent for summing up a situation in very few words.
He sighed. "That's… weighing on my mind."
"Yeah, I bet it is." She shook her head. "I'm sorry you didn't get better news."
He shrugged. "I'm still a bastard. So, in a sense, nothing really changed." And yet, everything had. Lord Eddard was his uncle, not his father. Robb, Sansa, Bran, Arya and Rickon were his cousins, not his siblings. It shouldn't change anything, but it did. Deep down.
And, of course, his foolish, childish hope that his mother was alive was gone.
And he was the child of a rapist, he reminded himself.
"So, wanna spar a bit? Get your mind off it?" Lady Yang asked with a faint grin.
He blinked at her.
She shrugged. "Hey, while we're here? And it helps dealing with… such stuff. Ruby's feeling better already."
Right. Lady Ruby had taken her fight with Ser Jaime - if you could call it a fight at all - hard, or so he had heard. "It must be hard sometimes to do the will of the Gods," he said. No matter whether it was the old Gods or the new.
She snorted. "You just try doing what's right and hope for the best."
Well, that was a simple rule. And yet, one he could get behind. "Let's spar then, my lady," he said.
*****
Ruby Rose was feeling better when she left the training yard. Sparring always made her feel better. Well, almost always. Sometimes, it could be frustrating. When no matter what you tried, it didn't work. Or if you were training with a jerk who just wanted to win.
But today had been nice. She had figured out a counter to a lance attack. With her speed, it should work against arrows as well - she had to test that tomorrow. Once she found someone willing to shoot at her. The Kingsguard hadn't wanted to, saying they were knights, not archers. Which was kinda silly - everyone should have a ranged attack. Just in case you were stuck fighting someone you couldn't reach or catch.
And now, she had breakfast - second breakfast, well, a good snack - waiting for her. Lots of honey cakes and warm milk (with honey). Just the thing you needed after a good workout to take your mind off the fact that you…
"Lady Ruby!"
…cut the uncle (or father) of Prince Joffrey into pieces because he had been listening to his stupid sister. Prince Joffrey, who had just greeted her. "Good morning, your grace," she said, smiling awkwardly. This was bad. What do you say to someone whose mother you sent to a fate worse than prison? After killing her brother? "Hello, Sandor. Or is it Lord Clegane now?" His brother was dead (killed by Blake), and if he hadn't had any children, Clegane would be his heir, right?
Sandor glared at her with a grunt instead of answering her question.
"He's Lord Clegane now," the Prince said.
"Noted." She nodded.
Sandor grunted again. He was tense and looked around them - he was too focused on guarding the prince.
Ruby clenched her teeth and pressed her lips together. She knew that the Prince was in danger. And he knew it as well. "Shouldn't the Kingsguard be guarding you as well?" she asked. Or was it instead?
"I told them to guard my brother and sister instead. I trust the Hound to guard me."
"Oh." That was nice of him. Both that he wanted his siblings kept safe and that he trusted Sandor. She nodded again.
"I wish to talk to you, my lady," the Prince went on.
Ruby winced. She didn't want to talk to the Prince. Not about what she thought he wanted to talk about. But someone had to. And it was her responsibility. "Alright." She looked around. "What about the ramparts? No spies there."
The Prince blinked. "Do you expect spies…" he looked around. "...in your quarters?"
Not if Blake is around, Ruby thought. But she nodded. "There are probably spies everywhere. You're safer if you assume the walls have ears. And eyes." She winced again. Should she have said that? Would that make Blake's spying harder? Drat, she was an idiot!
"I see. The ramparts will do fine, then. Not many chances for an assassin to hide there."
Sandor grunted in what was probably agreement. Ruby wasn't sure.
They walked over to the closest stairs leading up the walls.
"Uncle Tyrion didn't want me to talk to you, but he cannot order me around," the Prince said. "If I am to be King, I have to make my own decisions."
Ruby nodded. It was the same for her as the leader of Team RWBY.
"Keep your distance, Hound!" the Prince snapped when they reached the top. "Guard the stairs."
To Ruby's surprise, Sandor obeyed without a grunt or glare.
"I wish to have a private talk," the Prince said, though Ruby hadn't asked. It was pretty obvious, after all.
"Alright!" She nodded and leaned against the rampart, taking a deep breath. Here came the uncomfortable questions. But she was ready for them. Probably. Hopefully. It wasn't as if she could run away now - well, she could, but it would make everything even worse.
"You killed my uncle Jaime in the trial by combat." He stared at her.
"Yes." What else could she say?
"Yet Uncle Tyrion assures me that you would fight for me in a trial, should anyone contest my claim to the throne." He shook his head. "Why?"
"Because that's the right thing to do?" Why else would she do this?
"You accused my mother of being an adultress - with my uncle. It was your testimony that condemned them. And it was your blade that proved their guilt when you killed my uncle."
It had been Blake who had seen them do it, but Ruby nodded. "I didn't want to kill him. We ensured that neither your mother nor your uncle would be executed. But your uncle called for a trial by combat." And she had had to kill the stupid, arrogant idiot!
He stared at her as if he didn't understand. "Why didn't you want to kill him? You said he was guilty - and he challenged you."
"Because you should only kill people if you have to," she told him. He still looked confused, so she added: "I didn't want to kill him for what he had done, but he forced me to. If I had let him go, he and others would have thought that they could control us like that. Taking hostages."
"Ah." He nodded. "You had to kill him to scare off others."
"Ah… kinda." It wasn't quite perfect, but close enough. "I really didn't want to kill him. I'm sorry it came to that."
The Prince nodded again. "I understand, my lady."
Good. It would have been bad if he hated her. Sure, she had killed Ser Jaime, but that had been Ser Jaime's fault.
"And if someone accused me of being a bastard, you would kill them?"
Ah, that was a tricky question. "If they have no proof or try to kill you. But I don't see how they could prove that - you don't have blood or gene tests here."
He looked shocked and was silent for a moment. A long moment. Then he asked in a low voice: "But… Do you believe that I am a bastard?"
It was possible, of course, but Ruby wouldn't tell him that - he was still a boy, and being a bastard was very bad here. "It doesn't matter what I - or anyone else -
believe. What matters is what can be
proven." Yang had said the same, though she had been much younger then and it had been about stealing cookies. Though while she had convinced Ruby, Dad hadn't been convinced.
"I understand now." He nodded once again, slower this time, and with a determined expression.
"Good." Ruby smiled gently at him. It would be bad if he, once he was King, would decide trials based on what he believed instead of what was proven.
*****
"Ah, Greetings, Lady Ruby."
"Oh? Hello, my lady." Ruby forced herself to smile. She hadn't expected to meet the Red Priestess in the library. Couldn't Marwyn, Pycelle and Hernis have warned her? Well, they probably couldn't have, not having scrolls, but still! And now they were hiding in the back of the room - she caught glimpses of their robes - while she was stuck here, the woman who made her uncomfortable! And… "What are you doing here?" Oh, that had come out a bit too forcefully. This wasn't her library; she was just a guest here.
"I am looking through the books," Melisandre replied. "Lord Stannis gave me permission."
"Ah, OK." Ruby nodded, then clenched her teeth. Of course, she was here for the books, duh. Why else would you step into a library? Unless you were looking for a CCT connection or something. But they didn't have anything like that here. Though their ravens were kept in towers, so it was kinda like the CCT towers back home…
"You're still looking for magic to send you home to your world, aren't you?"
"Yes!" Ruby nodded emphatically. They would have left this world already if they knew how!
She placed the book she had been reading - or looking at - on the shelf next to her. "I've gazed into the flames, but R'hllor has not shown me answers yet."
"Oh?" Was Melisandre praying to her god to help Team RWBY? Or was she just saying that to make Ruby like her?
"It might be that you've yet to fulfil your destiny here."
"Our… destiny?" Ruby grimaced. What did she mean by that? The woman gave her the creeps! If it wouldn't be rude, she would have left her here.
"You defeated the Others and their king."
"We did?" Ruby blinked. "Oh, you mean the ice zombies!" She smiled as she nodded. "Yeah, we killed their leader, and they all fell down and didn't move any more."
"And you saved a great many lives by that. Yet, you have not been sent back. You might still be needed in this world."
Ruby frowned. "Do you mean we were taken here?" That was kidnapping! No one had asked them if they wanted to travel to another world!
"Yes. I do not believe that your arrival - at the precise time and place to defeat the Others - was a coincidence."
"And who took us here?" Ruby narrowed her eyes and touched Crescent Rose on her back. If she found the kidnapper…
Melisandre smiled. "That is a question to which I do not yet know the answer. It was not R'hllor, though; he would have told me. But there are others with power over such things."
"Do you have a list?" Ruby asked, smiling encouragingly.
Melisandre stared at her for a moment. "You wish to ask them to send you back."
"Yes!" Ask, and if they refused, make them do it if she had to.
"They cannot be reached easily. Just as only the truly faithful can contact R'hllor, there are limits on who can contact those powers. And doing so is fraught with danger. For an outsider like you to attempt it… I would not advise it."
"And who can contact them?"
"Priests, faithful…" Melisandre spread her hands. "Though as I said, you might not yet have fulfilled your destiny."
"It would be a lot easier and quicker if someone told us what we need to do."
Melisandre laughed, and something in her voice made a shiver run down Ruby's spine. "Oh, that is not how those powers work. Our minds can barely comprehend them with training and use when they deign to contact us. But one way or the other, your duty will become clear."
Ruby snorted. That sounded far too vague. Why would anyone transport her team here and then just let them be? That made no sense.
"And what are you planning to do while you wait to understand what is expected of you?"
"Uh…" Ruby shrugged. "Same as we've been doing so far?" Help where they could and look for a way home. Was that a trick question? They had never hidden their plans.
"I see." Melisandre smiled, and Ruby felt a shiver run down her spine again when the woman bowed in a weird way before leaving the library.
That had been weird.
*****
"Who's a good girl? You are! You are!" Weiss Schnee cooed while rubbing the soft underbelly of Lady. The direwolf was such a dear! Always well-groomed and so well-behaved!
And so fluffy! When Weiss was back home, she would have to look into getting a dog like her. If she ever returned… She pressed her lips together for a moment while she petted Lady. They would return home! Nothing else was acceptable! Weiss would never settle for living in Westeros!
A soft cough interrupted her thoughts. "Lady Weiss?"
"Ah, I'm sorry, Lady Sansa." She felt her cheeks flush. She hadn't meant to lose her focus.
She slowly rose to face the girl while Lady softly protested at the sudden end of her pets.
"No, no, it's alright. Lady loves you!" Lady Sansa said, smiling widely as she rubbed the direwolf's head herself. "I was just…"
"Yes?" Weiss tilted her head slightly to the side.
"I was wondering about my betrothed," Lady Sansa said in a low voice. Weiss saw her biting her lower lip for a moment, clearly nervous or worried.
"Prince Joffrey?"
"Yes," Lady Sansa said, and her expression clearly added 'who else?'
"I heard he was doing better with regard to the consequences of the trial," Weiss said. Ruby had told her that. And it was best to step lightly around a sensitive topic - she was speaking with a young girl, after all, not an adult.
"It's… " Lady Sansa looked around and lowered her voice. "People are saying that he is the, ah, result of the Queen's affair with her brother!"
Oh,
that. It was definitely a sensitive topic. "Those accusations lack any valid proof," Weiss told her with a firm nod. She knew how quickly rumours spread, no matter how baseless - although in this case, one couldn't claim the rumours were baseless; such a scandal would have resulted in the same kind of rumours back in Atlas - and spread with the same motives by those who would profit from such a turn.
"So, those accusations are false?" Lady Sansa leaned forward, and her voice grew slightly in volume.
"They are unsubstantiated," Weiss corrected her. At the girl's expression indicating a lack of comprehension, she explained: "There is no proof for those claims, meaning they are mere allegations. But at the same time, they haven't been disproven either."
Lady Sansa didn't seem to be satisfied with Weiss's answer. "But… don't you know the truth? You're blessed by the Seven!"
Weiss didn't wince at that even if she wanted to. "That is not how it works," she replied. "We rely on verifiable facts, on proof beyond reasonable doubt, to determine what is true and what isn't."
"But… Father said you'd defend the Prince's claim!"
That wasn't entirely correct as far as their stated intentions were concerned, though it didn't seem to be an intentional misrepresentation on the part of Lord Eddard. "It's a bit more complex," Weiss replied. "Or nuanced. We believe that those who make a claim bear the burden of proof."
"Does that mean Prince Joffrey has to prove that he's the King's son?" Sansa sounded worried again.
"Only if he had not been acknowledged as the heir by the King himself before," Weiss tried to reassure her. "To change that, one would need solid proof that he's illegitimate." Although, this being Westeros, an armed coup or rebellion apparently was always a viable alternative - Weiss didn't mention that, of course. The girl was worried enough already.
"So, Prince Joffrey doesn't need to prove his claim, but others would have to… to disprove it?"
"Yes." Weiss nodded with a smile. "A stable, prosperous society needs such rules. Otherwise, things would descend into chaos as the burden of proof on any claim would be shifted according to the whims of those who'd profit from the outcome of a trial."
Weiss had to explain that in smaller words as well until Lady Sansa nodded with apparent understanding.
"So, it's more important to follow rules than what you believe?"
"When it comes to trials and similar judgment calls, yes." Weiss nodded. "However," she added with a smile, "often, following your beliefs is the right decision for you. It's not a blanket rule - you have to keep the consequences of your decisions in mind."
"And what if you don't know what the consequences are, my lady?"
"Then you make your best guess," Weiss replied. "And you consider the risks and rewards as well." Without waiting for the question she knew was coming, she went on: "If an action promises a small reward, but presents a high risk for you or others, you should consider carefully if it's worth taking such a risk. Say…" She tried to come up with a good example that the girl would understand. All the examples she knew referenced economics. "Say, you stand in front of a very narrow gorge. You aren't sure you could jump over it - it looks narrow enough, but if you misjudge your leap, you will fall to your death. Is making the attempt worth the risk if you could walk half an hour and use a bridge instead?"
"No, it isn't! That would be stupid!"
"Yes. But what about if the next bridge is a day away? And what if you're chased by Grimm who can't jump the gorge?"
"Ah…"
Weiss winced. It seemed her explanations weren't helping Lady Sansa.
*****
"Ah, Lady Weiss!"
Weiss's good mood on the way back to their chambers - petting the adorable fluffballs of the Stark children was always a treat - vanished at once, and she pasted a polite smile on her face as she turned to greet the pimp. "Lord Petyr."
He smiled widely at her, flashing his teeth. "You're looking radiant today."
He was overdoing it. Too much flattery. And too much presumption to address her like this. Especially given his age. "Thank you, my lord." She bowed her head, slightly less than she would have if facing someone else of his rank.
If he noticed - and as an experienced courtier, he would have - his smile didn't falter. "Are you on your way back from your training?"
She nodded. "Yes." Meeting Lady Sansa had delayed her, and if she had gone out of her way to meet the girl and her direwolf when she had spotted her across the yard, then that was between Weiss and Lady.
"I'm on my way to an early meal," he said. "Work tends to pile up in these trying times, so I found it better to eat when I can."
Was he fishing for sympathy? Weiss had none to give. If you couldn't organise your schedule to eat when you needed, you might be in the wrong position. Her father certainly would never be caught like that. Besides, working lunches were a staple for businessmen. "I assume so," she said in her best noncommittal voice.
"So… since we're going the same way…" He gestured towards the gate across the yard.
There was no way to refuse that without offending him. Weiss was tempted to do it anyway, but nodded instead - Team RWBY didn't need more enemies, although she would argue that Lord Baelish might already be an enemy. In any case, she didn't trust him.
"It's been quite a time since the trial… as Master of Coin, I am not directly involved in such matters, but sooner or later, everything comes down to money."
"Money makes the world go round," she quoted Father.
"That's a good line! I might borrow it from you!" He laughed, flashing his teeth again.
She nodded with a polite smile.
"Too many people forget that, though. Especially at court. Those who have grown up never wanting anything, and never needing to take responsibilities, more often than not never learned that lesson."
"The bill always comes due," she repeated another quote.
"You seem to be experienced with such matters, my lady."
She shook her head, lying easily. "My father loved such sayings. He never taught me much, though - the family has staff for that."
"Ah." He nodded. "That might be a bit short-sighted of him. What if something happened to him and left you having to trust that none of your servants and employees will steal from you?"
"Exactly." She nodded again. They had almost reached the door, where she could leave the man and return to her friends.
"But as you said, it comes down to money. Sometimes, it feels as if just looking at where the money from the treasure chamber goes tells you more about the court's power struggles than listening for hours to people gossiping." He nodded at her as he sketched a bow. "But I don't want to bore you with such details. Good day, my lady."
"Good day, my lord." She bowed her head again, marginally lower. His offer was subtle, but clear.
And she trusted him about as much as she trusted her father.
*****
The Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
Blake Belladonna kept a wary eye on the four beasts surrounding Weiss as she carefully walked along the fence separating the training area from the rest of the yard. Her friend was doing an admirable job of keeping the direwolves distracted and happy, but you couldn't trust them.
"Lady Blake!"
"Lady Blake!"
"Lady Arya." She nodded at the girl and leaned against the fence. "Lord Bran. Already done with your training?"
"We're just taking a break!" Arya gestured with the small, slim training sword she used and beamed at Blake. "Lady Yang said we've earned it!"
"That is high praise," Blake told them. Yang wasn't easily impressed, so the kids must have done well - for children their age and without Aura, of course.
Arya smirked. "Want to see for yourself? Now that you've slept through half the day already?" Without waiting for an answer, she ducked under the fence and entered the training yard, raising her sword.
Blake snorted. She was up quite early, considering that she had spent half the night in the secret passages below the keep. But she could easily handle Arya. "Alright." She drew Gambol Shroud but didn't take it out of the sheath. "Ready?"
Arya's grin grew as she nodded.
And then it disappeared when she failed to block or deflect Blake's first lunge, which ended with the blunt part of her sheath resting on Arya's shoulder.
"You dropped your guard," Blake told her.
Bran giggled, making him look even younger than he was.
Arya scowled in return at him and then turned to Blake. "You're too fast."
"And too strong," Blake said. "And too experienced. But unless you're planning never to fight anyone stronger or more experienced than you, you will have to learn how to deal with such people."
"How? You're stronger, faster
and more skilled!" Arya blurted out.
Blake nodded. Skill could compensate for a lot, as could speed - anyone who had ever fought Ruby could attest to that - and people could leverage greater strength as easily as picking up a heavier weapon. "Then you need to be sneakier."
"You mean feinting?" She frowned. "That doesn't work against someone more experienced!"
"Sometimes it does," Blake replied. "But I'm not talking about feinting. I'm talking about being sneaky. No amount of skill, speed or strength will save you if you're hit before you realise someone's stabbed you."
"But… Do you mean to stab someone in the back? That would be dishonourable!" Bran blurted out.
"Like cutting down a fleeing enemy?" Blake cocked her head. "Are you supposed to let them go so they can rally and regroup?"
"That's different!" Arya pouted. "That's what you do in war."
"A fight to the death is a fight to the death," Blake said. "If someone is stronger, faster and more experienced than you and wants to harm your family, do you do everything you can do to stop them? Or do you fight them head-on, lose and let your family be hurt?"
Arya opened her mouth, then closed it. "That's…"
"...the question, and the answer is: You defend your family any way you need to," Blake finished for her - Bran looked pensive. "If there's no other way, you stab them in the back if you can." They were their father's children, after all. Blake had to frame the lesson so they wouldn't reject it out of hand. Make them think and question things.
"But…" Arya, stubborn as ever, pouted. "That's still dishonourable!"
"More dishonourable than letting your family get hurt, or worse, because you chose not to do everything you could to protect them?" Blake slowly tilted her head at her.
Arya frowned again. "Honour isn't supposed to work like that!"
"But that's how honour works - or doesn't work - in practice," Blake replied. "You'll encounter - find yourself in - situations where you have to decide between actions which are all dishonourable."
"That's not true! If you're strong enough, you can always act with honour!" Bran cut in. "If you can defeat every enemy in honourable combat, you're not forced to act in a dishonourable way!" He grinned.
"Is that so? What if you have to protect someone, but you know your family is under attack as well, and you cannot protect both? Who do you let die in that case?" Blake asked.
That made both kids pout and frown again. "That's…" Bran started, then fell silent.
"Drag the one you're protecting to your family and protect everyone there!"
"What if you can't reach your family fast enough if you're dragging someone?" Blake shook her head.
"If you swore an oath, then you follow it!" Bran said, nodding firmly.
"What if the oaths conflict?" Blake smiled a little sadly. "When you've sworn an oath to obey the King and an oath to protect those in need, and the King's hurting them?"
"Uh… the King's not supposed to do that!" Bran said.
Blake nodded. "But you still swore an oath to him. Do you obey him? What if he wants you to hurt children?"
"Uh… I would refuse that!" Bran raised his chin almost defiantly.
Arya nodded firmly.
"And you'd break your oath to him over it." Blake smiled. "So, whatever you do, you'll break an oath."
That had the kids apparently confused.
"Then you shouldn't swear any oaths!" Arya said. "So you can do what's right!"
"Do Huntresses swear oaths?" Bran asked.
"Not formally," Blake said. "But even without oaths, you still might have to decide what dishonourable action you take. Do you leave your wounded partner behind to save a village from Grimm?" She shook her head. "When you're faced with such a decision, you can't hide behind honour; you will have to make a decision. You will have to decide what's the right decision - or the least wrong."
Bran pouted again. "And what if you don't know what's the right decision?"
"Then you still make a decision you think is right, and live with it," Blake told them. "Live and learn," she added before she could keep herself from saying such a corny line. "You have to live with it, so you can't let others dictate your actions. In the end, you have to do what's right. And yes, it helps if you don't have too many potentially conflicting obligations. A Huntress isn't beholden to the ruler of the Kingdom. We are free to fight the Grimm where we can. No one commands us." Well, they still had to take missions to earn money, but that was different. But they weren't soldiers bound to obey orders.
"Like a Hedge-Knight?" Bran asked.
"Something like it, yes." Blake wasn't an expert on hedge knights, but they sounded close enough to Huntresses.
"Ah." Arya nodded. "But without the knight's oath."
"No formal oath, no. But any good Huntress team will have principles and rules," Blake replied. "And we're adults, so we don't have to obey our parents," she added. Judging by the way both kids pouted, they had been thinking what she had suspected. "Alright," she said, lifting Gambol Shroud. "Let's continue your training."
"Yes!" Arya charged her at once, and Blake disarmed her.
"You need to be a lot more sneaky than that," she told the girl. "You can't…" She trailed off as she saw Hunter moving towards them, followed by Nymeria.
Bran grinned. "Reinforcements have arrived!"
Blake clenched her teeth. That wasn't supposed to happen. Dogs had no place in the training yard!
*****
King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
Blake frowned as she crept along the narrow, partially crumbling tunnel. The city didn't have a sewer system, but there were a lot of secret passages and tunnels, forgotten cellars and buried remains of former buildings. And according to what she had heard, many brothels had secret entrances to allow wealthy clients to enter and leave without being seen by anyone else.
The trick was finding them - and finding one that wasn't guarded or had partially collapsed. Like this one, she added as she reached the end of it. It must have collapsed long ago and then had been partially filled from above. By Blake's estimate, she was under the neighbouring building. Another dead end, then.
She adjusted the map she was drawing, made a few notes and headed back. Maybe she had to try the cellars of the adjacent buildings; there might be passages leading to the brothel. If she knew whether Lord Baelish owned any of those buildings, it would make it easier, of course. But the city archives were a mess, and if she started asking the clerks there for help, Lord Baelish would hear about it at once - he wouldn't be able to own brothels without anyone at court knowing if he didn't have someone taking care of the records.
So, legwork it was. At least, she was getting so familiar with the city's underground, she doubted anyone else knew as much as she did by now.
She left the tunnel through an entrance hidden under an old barrel that once caught rainwater, after checking for witnesses, and then headed down the side alley. One tunnel down, two more to check.
*****
Street of Steel, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
"...and this is how you craft the spring." Yang Xiao Long pointed at the piece of metal, then started bending it. "You need to widen the end just a bit here, so it fits."
"Oh!" Gendry whistled, impressed by the simple design.
Mott, on the other hand, nodded as if he had already known that. He probably had - the old smith had been paying close attention to everything that Yang had worked on here.
"So… with that, you can craft an alarm device that will alert you if someone tries to move it," Yang said. "And one that's not as easily disarmed as a bit of string and a bell."
"It can still be disarmed, though," Mott said.
"Sure. Nothing's perfect. Not even I," Yang grinned, though the way Gendry nodded was a bit weird - he knew she was joking about being perfect, not joking about not being perfect, right? She pushed the thought away. "Anyway, with a small casing, it's pretty hard to disarm it. And then it can double as an alarm clock in the morning!"
"I wish you knew how to craft clocks, my lady," Gendry said. "If we could do that…" He smiled wistfully.
Yang shrugged. "You probably can work that out yourself; you already know the basics." She would have liked to help out more, but mechanical clocks hadn't exactly been something she had paid attention to, back in her workshop back home. But he already knew that. "Besides, you're already making pretty bank with the mousetraps, right?"
"They do sell nicely," Gendry said, nodding.
"Others are already copying the design," Mott grumbled. "It's too simple."
Yang shrugged again. That there was no patent office in Westeros wasn't her fault either. Nor that Mott had forgotten to ask for a royal monopoly or whatever because he hadn't thought that the trap would sell. Hah! Whether on Westeros or back home, new gadgets always sold!
"Well, I also know a more complicated design, but I don't know how a trap that catches the mouse alive will sell," Yang said.
"Why would you want to catch the mouse alive, my lady?" Gendry asked, though Mott looked surprised as well.
Because my little sister didn't want the cute little mice to die. Yang didn't say that, of course - this wasn't Remnant; mice were not just a minor pest here. "Some people like to feed them to their pet snakes," she said instead.
Now both were looking at her as if she had just told them they practised blood sacrifices or something back home.
"Pet snakes?" Gendry looked appalled.
"Were there many who kept snakes to milk them for their venom?" Mott asked.
"Ah… I don't know." She shrugged. "Most pet snakes weren't venomous. Some people just like snakes."
Gendry shuddered.
"Anyway, those are alarm devices." Not quite as complex as the ones Yang and Ruby had made for their team - you didn't spill that secret so thieves could steal their gear - but better than anything else here, at least, according to Mott, and he knew his stuff. "But you can combine that with traps, of course!" She grinned again. "Traps that catch thieves. Alive."
"We've heard of your paint traps," Mott said.
"Everyone did - it was part of the latest sermon at the Great Sept," Gendry added. "Those who steal from the Maiden shall be marked for all to see," he said in a deep voice.
Yang blinked. They were
preaching about that? "Ah… It's not really… magic," she said. "Or, ah, divine. It's just a trap. A mechanical trap."
Gendry nodded. "Of course, my lady. It's a metaphor. It's just paint for the body, but those who steal are still marked in their souls. A stain that cannot be washed off, only atoned for."
Yang grimaced. "Yeah, that's… kinda going far." Atoning? What did they mean? Maybe she should visit one of those sermons. Although if they went on for hours, as last time, she would struggle not to fall asleep…
*****
The Great Sept of Baelor, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
"Lady Yang! What an honour to have one of the Seven's Chosen visit us again!" The High Septon - Gendry had talked about him so much, Yang couldn't have forgotten his title if she had wanted to - bowed deeply. More deeply than she thought possible since he was as fat as Professor Port and not nearly as agile - apparently, just the short rush to meet them had made him breathe hard.
"Ah, don't pay attention to me. Just do what you usually do," Yang said.
"Of course! Your humility does you proud, Lady Yang!" And another bow followed before he turned and bellowed: "Make way for the Maiden!"
Yang winced. "I'm not the Maiden," she said, though she doubted anyone was listening.
"No, but you are one of the Four Maidens, Her chosen." Well, except for Gendry.
Yang winced again. She wanted to correct him, but she also knew that they had to step lightly here - some people were still whispering that they were evil witches; Blake and Weiss hadn't managed to find out who was spreading the rumours now that Cersei was gone. And if people started doubting Team RWBY, it could end badly for their friends. So she sighed and followed the septon to the front benches. And tried to ignore all the whispers and gasps and bows and calls for blessings. And more gasps and thank yous when she waved her hand at them as if that actually did something.
Maybe she shouldn't have decided to attend the sermon today. But she couldn't leave now.
So she sat on the bench with as much grace as she managed - and she could manage a lot - and watched as there was a brief, whispered scene between the High Septon and his underlings.
"It looks like the High Septon will do the sermon today, in your honour, my lady," Gendry whispered from her side.
"Yeah, I gathered that," she whispered back.
"Of course, my lady!"
Then the sermon began, and Yang quickly had to strain to keep smiling. All the stuff about the blessings of the Seven, that she had expected, but all the stuff about the
Blessed by the Seven? The Four Maidens? The Chosen of the Seven?
And everyone was watching her - people were craning their necks to look at her. One blonde guy who looked familiar - where had she seen him? Must have been at court - was all but standing to watch her. Usually, she didn't mind attention - hell, she was hot and had nothing to hide - but this was a bit much. No, more than a bit much.
"...and we shall follow their example, uphold what's good and just, and fight what's corrupt and evil, in the name of the Seven-Who-Are-One, and led by the Four Maidens!"
Yang blinked and glanced at Gendry. He was watching attentively, but a light touch from her elbow had him look at her. "What's that about 'fighting'?" she asked in a whisper.
"That's the daily struggle in our lives. Not actual fighting with weapons, my lady," he whispered back.
That was good. Yang let out a breath of relief.
The last thing Team RWBY needed or wanted was some people starting fights in their name.
*****