Chapter 30: Twists
'One thing that is often overlooked when studying the martial achievements of the Ruby Order is their influence on facing and fighting magic threats. The Four Maidens were amongst the first who trained specifically to face magic users in combat and did so at the very beginning of what was later recognised as the renaissance of magic, a time when arts thought lost or merely myths were rediscovered and put to use. While accounts of their training regime were fraught with the unfortunately common exaggerations - I have already laid out how they could not perform superhuman feats such as moving faster than a trained eye could see - they are quite detailed in the goals and methods of their training, and proved quite effective in later years when used against magic users. Some of the most famous members of the Faith credit those techniques with allowing them to prevail over shadowbinders and warlocks from Asshai during the Shadow Wars in Essos a decade later, and even considering the esteem in which the Faith of the time held the Ruby Order, those claims are credible.'
- A Treatise On The Ruby Order, by Maester Kennet Bracken
*****
The Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
Prince Joffrey Baratheon was the heir to his father, King Robert. The future
King, as soon as he came of age. He told himself that as he paced in his chambers. For he was in great, mortal danger. He had too many enemies who wanted to keep him from ascending to the Iron Throne. To murder him, as they had murdered his father. Cowardly, with poison, for they would not dare to stand against him or his family in open combat. Not when he was protected by Team Ruby.
Which was why those craven usurpers had tried to murder Lady Ruby and Lady Yang with poison. They had failed, though - not even poison as powerful as to melt iron could harm them. Nothing could.
But if Joffrey had drunk that poison… He shuddered. His insides would have melted. He would have died spewing blood, like Father had. Even if there were an antidote, he would not have had the time to drink it before he were dead - or, worse, dying from his guts ripped up inside him.
And he knew the next attempt would be aimed at him. Whoever was behind this now knew that this poison wouldn't work on Team Ruby, but they could still use it against Joffrey. And there was nothing he could do about it! Prince Oberyn the Red Viper was the most obvious suspect; he was known for his knowledge of poison and for hating Joffrey's family. Oh, how he wanted to send the Dornish knave to the Black Cells and have the truth tortured out of him! Make the villain howl with pain, scream himself hoarsely as he begged for the mercy of death…
But there was no proof - nothing that Team Ruby would accept; he knew how they thought about torture. And no one else would listen to him. Not Lord Eddard, his soon-to-be regent. The man would never move against Team Ruby's wishes. Lord Renly, his supposed Master of Laws, would probably protect Prince Oberyn; he tried to hide it, but Joffrey was aware that his uncle lusted for the throne himself - the Imp had confirmed it. And not even Grandfather would risk starting a war with Dorne and alienating Team Ruby at the same time.
He clenched his teeth. It all came back to Team Ruby. They stood between Joffrey and his enemies. But that cut both ways. Their power held everyone in check, including Joffrey and his scant allies.
But they couldn't stop assassins. They hadn't been able to save Father, even though he had been poisoned right under their eyes. And they refused to move against anyone without proof.
He balled his hands into fists, almost hitting the wall before he managed to control himself. He had to do something! Before it was too late!
But he didn't know what he could do.
*****
The Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
"So, how are you? I know there are a lot of scary rumours going on, but…"
"I'm fine, Uncle Tyrion." Joffrey nodded at the Imp.
The Imp looked at him, narrowing his eyes for a moment before nodding, then smiled at Tommen and Myrcella. "How about you?"
"Ah…" Tommen winced, and Joffrey glared at his weak brother. What did he have to fear? Joffrey was the king-to-be. He was in danger. No one cared about Tommen, much less Myrcella. Not as long as Joffrey was alive.
"Don't worry, not even the strongest poison can hurt the Four Maidens," the Imp told them. He looked even uglier when he smiled. "They'll protect you."
Tommen, the dunce, nodded, swallowing before trying to smile as well. As if he'd survive an assassination attempt any better than Father had!
"But they killed Uncle Jaime and sent Mother to the Silent Sisters," Myrcella said, trembling still.
The Imp sighed. "They didn't want to kill Jaime, but he forced them. And they had your mother sent to the Silent Sisters so she wouldn't be killed."
"Which was explained to you before," Joffrey snapped. "Didn't you pay attention?"
"Joffrey." The Imp frowned at him.
Joffrey scoffed in return and met his eyes. Why was he bothering to talk to Tommen and Myrcella? They were useless. Except for alliances, but there hadn't been any offers yet, as far as Joffrey knew. That would change once he was King, of course.
"Don't worry," the Imp repeated himself. "We'll keep you safe."
"How?" Joffrey snapped, then clenched his teeth. He hadn't meant to blurt out that, but now that he had, he would stand by it. "Not even Team Ruby managed to find Father's murderer!"
The Imp frowned even more - his face turned into an ugly grimace - but Joffrey scoffed. He had but told the truth. Father had complained often enough about all the liars at court.
"Everyone is looking for the murderer," the Imp said after a moment, but even Joffrey's dim-witted brother and useless sister saw through his claim; both were wincing again. Worthless. And stupid.
Joffrey scoffed again. "The real suspects are not being investigated."
The Imp glared at him. "No one knows who was behind this. Your father had too many enemies."
"That's why you question suspects," Joffrey retorted. "Except no one is getting questioned. Only the worthless smallfolk, who don't know anything."
The Imp shook his head. "You cannot torture nobles on a whim, Joffrey. The last king who did that ended up killed on his throne."
Joffrey glared at the Imp. That had been the Mad King. He had seen enemies where none were. This was different. "Team Ruby could do it," he said. "No one can stop them. No one would dare to stop them."
"They could, yes - but they never would, Joffrey. They abhor torture. And they would never go against anyone without proof."
"But… what if the Lord Stark ordered them?" Tommen asked. "He's the Hand!"
Joffrey snorted. His brother really didn't understand anything.
"They would refuse." The Imp tried smiling again. "And Lord Eddard knows this. Never give an order you know will be refused."
"But…"
Joffrey glared at Tommen, and the dunce fell silent. "They only obey their leader, Lady Ruby. No one else."
"And the Seven!" Myrcella piped up.
Useless. Joffrey frowned at her.
"They have pledged to protect you," the Imp said. "Not to obey you. They aren't the Kingsguard. They are doing this because it's the right thing to do, not because they were ordered - except by the Seven."
Joffrey clenched his teeth again. If Team Ruby was the only reason he could become King, but they didn't obey him, then he would be a weak king - a king in name only. He wouldn't be able to do anything. He wouldn't have any real power.
Joffrey needed to be a strong king. Strong enough to deal with all his enemies. So strong, no one would dare to oppose him.
*****
The Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
"Isn't that nice, my prince? Oh, Lady, No! Don't chase the poor cat!"
Joffrey laughed as the huge direwolf skidded to a stop in front of the tree onto which it had chased the stupid cat - one of Tommen's, he recognised the three-coloured fur.
Lady Sansa flushed, and he saw her scowl a little, before she called out: "Heel, Lady!"
The wolf trotted back to them, tongue lolling out of its maw, and rubbed its flank against Lady Sansa's waist.
"That was bad of you! We don't chase cats!" she scolded it while petting its thick fur.
"Those cats are fine to be chased," Joffrey said. Tommen had too many of them, anyway. He wouldn't miss one. "It looked a bit fat, anyway."
"That means it's someone's pet!"
Joffrey almost shrugged - who cared about that? - but caught himself in time. Lady Sansa was a good girl, proper, obedient, and she knew to listen to him, but she still had some hangups, as Lady Yang would say. Nothing that would make her outright defy him, but her attempts to question him, meek as they were, were still annoying. A king shouldn't be questioned. Well, she would learn in time. "Then they should take better care of their pets. You wouldn't let Lady run free, would you?"
"Of course not! I promised Father to take care of her!" Lady Sansa replied. "I take all my responsibilities seriously. But…" She hesitated, biting her lower lip, and Joffrey forced himself to keep smiling. "...a cat isn't the same as a wolf, is it?"
"The principle is the same," he said.
For a moment, she looked like she wanted to question him further, but then she nodded. "Of course, as with all animals."
He smiled again. Good. She was learning. If only Team Ruby were like her… No one would be able to gainsay him if he had their obedience. But they weren't. Lady Sansa was dutiful and obedient, but she was lacking in comparison. The backing of House Stark was nothing compared to the might of the Maidens, and while Lady Sansa was pretty, Team Ruby were beauties without peers. Still, she would do - provided Joffrey could acquire the power he needed to be a real king.
Her wolf softly growled, but he was used to that. It wouldn't dare touch him. Unlike others, such as his grandfather, whom he was to meet later, it knew its place.
*****
"Are you aware of our current predicament?"
Joffrey frowned. His grandfather was, as always, not showing the proper respect for the prince of the realm. At least he hadn't added 'boy' to the question. That would have been an insult - Joffrey wasn't a child. He was almost a man grown. And he knew what his grandfather was alluding to. "Do you mean how I depend on Team Ruby?" He didn't add 'Grandfather', he could be rude too!
His grandfather scoffed. "That is merely a symptom, not the problem."
Joffrey frowned. "I lack the power to defend the throne without them. That is the problem:"
"Almost. The problem is that your right to the throne is questioned in the first place, boy."
"I know!" He gritted his teeth. Oh, how he knew that! If he had the power, no one would dare question him, much less his position!
His grandfather nodded. "Good. I will not lie to you, Joffrey - our family is in a precarious position. Our enemies gather, probing for any weakness, and all that stands between us and our doom is the support of four foreigners - and that might vanish as soon as they change their minds for any reason. Such as Jaime's death showed."
Joffrey pressed his lips together. Uncle Jaime had been weak. As the Imp had explained, he had listened to Mother and had died for it. As much as Joffrey wanted to contradict him, he couldn't - it was obvious in hindsight that, in this, at least, the Imp was correct. If Mother had been as smart or as powerful as she had always claimed, she would not have fallen like this. "They will keep their word," he said. He knew Team Ruby. Better than anyone else. They were like Lord Eddard, bound by their honour. They would kill for it, even if they didn't want to.
His grandfather scoffed again. "You are naive! They will keep their word to protect you as long as they find it in their interest, and not a moment longer." He leaned forward, and Joffrey would have taken a step back if he hadn't been seated. "They are foreigners, with a foreign mind. Tyrion stressed that they don't think like we do, and I am inclined to agree with him - they certainly don't act like anyone from Westeros would."
"They have kept their word!" he protested. "They have done everything they said they would!"
His grandfather sneered. "Only because it served their interests, Joffrey. We have no hold on them, nothing that ties them to us. Nothing will keep them from turning against you as they have turned against your uncle and your mother." He shook his head. "Until we've restored the power of our house, grown too powerful again for our enemies to dare oppose us, we depend on those four foreigners. You cannot afford to antagonise them or you will suffer the same fate Jaime and Cersei did."
"Only a fool would antagonise them," Joffrey spat. He was no fool.
"Your mother did, according to all accounts."
"Mother was a fool." Joffrey scoffed, if not as loudly as his grandfather.
"She was - she gave those four a motive to destroy her." His grandfather gripped his goblet hard - his knuckles turned white, Joffrey saw. He didn't drink from it, though - the Imp would have emptied the goblet twice already.
After a short pause, his grandfather nodded. "Good. You understand our position, and you know what not to do. Cultivate your relationship with your betrothed. We cannot afford to antagonise Lord Eddad either; the Starks are currently our only allies that we can trust."
"But he sentenced Mother and Uncle Jaime!" Joffrey blurted out.
"Because Lady Ruby and her friends pressured him. Don't give them any reason to pressure him to move against us, Joffrey."
Of course he wouldn't! He was no fool.
He nodded, stiffly. He was the Prince. He shouldn't be talked to like a servant! Like a boy! Not from anyone! But he kept his calm - he could not lose his temper. "What about the assassin who murdered Father and tried to murder Lady Ruby and Lady Yang?"
His grandfather scowled. "He has not been found yet. As riddled as the Court is with our enemies, this shouldn't surprise anyone."
"He will go after me next," Joffrey said. He pressed his lips together and balled his hands into fists so he wouldn't tremble. He was the Prince of the Realm!
"I've arranged for more food tasters for you. Stay with a guard at any time in case the assassin decides to switch methods." The man wasn't even looking at him - he was staring out of the window, at the city below. "That's all for now. Leave." His grandfather dismissed him. "I have work to do."
Another insult. He clenched his teeth. He should tell off the man. Punish him for his insolence, but… He couldn't. Not yet. He had no power to do so.
"Yes, grandfather," he pressed out and left.
The Hound waited outside and fell in after him without needing a prompt. Good. He as well knew his place.
Joffrey took a deep breath as he descended the stairs from his grandfather's quarters. His position was in peril. He had no power to call his own, and everyone knew it. Even if his grandfather succeeded with whatever he was planning, it would only mean Joffrey would depend on him instead of on Team Ruby.
That was unacceptable. He would be the King, in truth and not merely in name. He wouldn't be anyone's tool.
He would have the power he needed to vanquish his enemies. His life depended on it, and he couldn't trust anyone else. His grandfather had just proven that.
His course was clear.
Once they were in the open yard, away from anyone who could overhear them, he turned to the Hound. "I need a cut purse, Hound. No, I need the best cut purse!"
Only the best would be good enough for this.
*****
The Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
"You found mysterious jars under the Dragon Pit?" Ruby Rose cocked her head sideways. "Did you open one?" Ruby would have, in her place.
"Suspicious jars," Blake corrected her. "And no, I didn't. The strange chemical smell was too strong to risk it."
"Right." Yang nodded. "If it's poison inside, and it fills the tunnel with gas if it's opened…"
Ruby winced. Aura protected against a lot, poison included, but you still needed to breathe. Suffocating was a danger even here.
"I doubt that the jars could hold enough gas to render the air unbreathable," Blake said. "Their contents couldn't be under any pressure. So, I should have been able to make it out anyway. But I was worried about explosions."
"Explosions?" Ruby frowned. "You think those are bombs?"
"They might be leaking inflammable gas," Weiss said. "But your lantern would have set them off."
"Yes. But who knows what is inside the jars? If it's a complex chemical and it is degrading and dissolving into its components…" Blake shook her head. "They have binary poison here, and poison that changes weak acid into something that can melt steel. I don't want to risk experimenting."
Ruby nodded. "Yeah. Even Prince Oberyn blew up his lab when he examined the poison Yang drank."
"Technically, he examined the poison I
didn't drink." Yang grinned. "What I drank and vomited out melted his tools."
Weiss rolled her eyes, but Ruby smiled. That sounded like the Yang she knew.
Blake smiled too - but she grew serious almost immediately. "There was also a symbol on the jars." She showed them a quick sketch.
Ruby peered at it for a few seconds, but she didn't recognise it. "I've never seen that before."
"Doesn't ring a bell," Yang said.
"I am unfamiliar with this symbol, but I am sure the Maesters would know more about this."
Blake nodded at Weiss's words. "I was thinking the same, but I wanted to talk to you before doing anything. Like explaining what I was doing beneath the Dragonpit, so we're on the same page."
Right. She had been looking for a place to bury that poor boy who had been murdered. Ruby clenched her teeth. To murder a child like that! If she found out who had done it, she would… She blinked. Wait a minute… "Team!" She grimaced as she looked at her friends. "How many adults without tongues have we seen or heard about?"
Her friends gasped and went pale. "We haven't seen any. Do you mean…" Weiss trailed off.
Blake looked grim. "Unless this… practice of using mutilated children as spies is relatively new, some of them should have grown up. We're talking about dozens of them, in this city alone. People who can read and write, but not talk."
"They… might still be spying for Varys, just elsewhere?" Yang didn't sound as if she believed that.
Blake looked ill. "Why move them elsewhere? They would be familiar with the city and the Red Keep, especially with the secret passages. If they were sent somewhere else, they would have to familiarise themselves with the new environment and conditions. And newcomers who are mute would likely stick out a bit - people overlook street kids all the time, even in Remnant, but adults doing shady stuff?" She shook her head.
Ruby really hoped that Varys had only started using children as spies a few years ago. But… "Varys has been the kingdom's spymaster for decades," she whispered.
Yang cursed under her breath.
Weiss was stiff. Ruby knew how her friend looked when angry, and she was furious now. But controlled. Cool, sort of. "We cannot assume the worst. The Faith has sent out people to look into the origin of those children. Hopefully, they will find out more - especially how long this has been going on."
"And we can ask around about mute people," Blake said. "The Faith might know more - they would have a place for someone who can't talk but can read and write. Copying books is done by hand here. Or they ran away once they were old enough to seek a better life elsewhere."
Weiss nodded. "They could have found employment with merchants as scribes. The nobles have Maesters, but the Smallfolk cannot use them."
Ruby nodded. "We shouldn't jump to conclusions," she agreed. Even though she feared that her worst assumptions were right. "So… speaking of Maesters?" She smiled at Blake.
"I'll show them the symbol," her friend agreed.
"And I'll talk to the High Septon," Ruby said. "I have to talk to him about the guards for Tobho and Gendry, anyway."
*****
The Great Sept of Baelor, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
"Blessed be the Seven! How may we help you, Lady Ruby?"
"Hello, High Septon." Ruby managed to smile politely and not grimace. The man was practically - no, not practically, literally - bowing to her. She couldn't blame Yang for this - it hadn't been her big sister's fault that she had been poisoned - but the faithful here had become even more, ah, faithful since they had heard that Yang survived poison that melted steel. "I am just… I wanted to ask you about something that concerns us."
"We'll do whatever we can to help you, Lady Ruby!"
She suppressed a wince. The man meant well, but she didn't like all the bowing and scraping, as Blake called it, even though it was just bowing and no scraping. She was no divine messenger. She wasn't even a noble - she was just Ruby, a Huntress (in training).
But she had a mission here, and she would do it. "It's about the mute children - related to them," she said.
"We haven't heard back from the men who went to investigate Essos, my lady. But I can assure you that they will do their utmost to find out everything they can!" he quickly said.
"I know that," she tried to reassure him. "It's just… we were wondering how long this has been going on. We haven't seen many adults who were missing their tongues. Grown men and women," she added when he seemed confused.
"Ah." He frowned. "I do not recall anyone myself - although I will make an inquiry with the Silent Sisters. Women with their tongues cut and released by their master would find a place amongst them. With regard to the men, though…" He winced, probably realising what Ruby was afraid was happening. "I will make inquiries, my lady."
She smiled at him. "Thank you, High Septon."
"I am merely doing my duty, my lady."
"Also, I wanted to ask about the people guarding Master Mott's smithy," she went on. "I know it's not a, ah, official Faith business, but… Could you keep an eye on them so they won't be, ah, too…" How could she word that so it wasn't an insult? "...too rash?"
He nodded with a smile. "Several of our Septons were guards or men-at-arms before joining the Faith. I will arrange for some of them to join the guards there. It would not do for the honest enthusiasm of the faithful to turn into something detrimental to their goals."
Ruby smiled again. That was good to hear. "That's great! I am glad to hear that if someone should attack them, they can defend themselves and the others."
"An astute observation, my lady. I think those I know might also do some teaching for the volunteers. Nothing like the Faith Militant, of course! Merely assuring that those who volunteer to help out are able to do what they set out to do."
Ruby nodded. That sounded good as well. Though she would have to ask Weiss if she knew what the 'Faith Militant' was - it sounded important.
*****
The Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
"Ah, yes. That's the symbol of the Alchemists' Guild," Archmaester Marwyn said.
"Also known as the Guild of the Alchemists," Grand Maester Pycelle added with a side glance at his colleague.
Weiss Schnee wanted to roll her eyes - apparently, both men still couldn't go along with each other. At least not to the point of avoiding such silly games. On the other hand, based on what she had heard about some feuds between Maesters, the fact that they were not physically attacking each other indicated a rather congenial relationship.
"They fancy themselves as scholars, keepers of secret knowledge," the Grand Maester went on, "but apart from producing wildfire, they have no achievements of note."
"And many times, they became the victims of their own wildfire," Archmaester Marwyn said with a chuckle. "Where did you happen to discover the symbol? Did you notice their guildhall in the city?"
Weiss hadn't noticed the guildhall. An oversight since, apparently, the guild boasted of secret knowledge - knowledge that might help Team RWBY with returning to their world. "Several hundred jars under the Dragonpit are marked with it. We discovered them while looking for records that might have survived its storming," she told them the cover story they had agreed upon.
"Several hundred jars of wildfire?" Archmaester Marwyn's eyebrows rose.
"That's… why would they be there? This has to go back at least to the time of the Mad King!" The Grand Maester exclaimed.
"You would know - you were there."
"Yes - I saw the atrocities conducted in the last years of his reign," Pycelle glared at his colleague before nodding at Weiss. "However, such a dangerous substance should be recovered and properly disposed of."
Wildfire. Weiss had heard about it and read up on it. If the descriptions were even partially correct, this was indeed a substance as likely to kill whoever handled it as it was to do what they wanted. And if it was decades old… "We noticed a distinct smell. Is that normal?"
Neither of the men seemed to know the answer. The Archmaester shrugged. "I am an expert on magic, not wildfire."
"The alchemists guard their knowledge jealously. When they enjoyed the favour of the Mad King, it was perilous to inquire too much about their guild. According to rumour, Lord Chelsted, then the King's Hand, ran afoul of them, and was burned alive and replaced by the leader of the guild as a result," the Grand Maester explained.
"The guild has not been in anyone's favour since the rebellion," Archmaester Marwyn commented.
"Nor was there any reason to care about them any more," his colleague shot back. "But I reiterate: the substance, especially if it's indeed wildfire, should be recovered."
Weiss nodded. That made sense. "I'll pass it along to the Hand," she said. "He'll handle it."
Both men nodded in agreement.
*****
Weiss was almost to the Great Hall, on her way back to her team's quarters after informing Lord Eddard, who agreed to have it handled - by the guild itself, since the alchemists would know best how to do it - when she spotted a familiar and despicable man moving to intercept her. Varys. She hid her scowl as he approached in a rather transparent attempt to make the meeting appear a coincidence instead of a planned encounter.
"Lady Weiss! Already done with your training?"
"Master Varys." She nodded her head and slowed down; it would not do to snub him and give the game away. "I had a minor matter to deal with."
"Oh?" He smiled. "Not something that would concern me, I hope."
"I doubt it. We discovered a stack of wildfire under the Dragonpit, and I informed the hand."
To her surprise, the man tensed. "Wildfire?" His smile dimmed.
Oh - of course, he had been at the court of the Mad King as well; he likely wouldn't have fond memories of the substance used to burn people alive. "Yes. Apparently, it was stored there and forgotten," she explained. He would be told everything at the next meeting of the small council anyway.
"Ah." He nodded. "It's a very volatile substance; you must have been very cautious to avoid setting it off."
Weiss shrugged. "I'm used to working with volatile substances."
He nodded again. "Of course." His smile grew a little, shifting into his usual expression. "Then it was fortunate indeed that you discovered it and not one of your more impulsive friends."
She chuckled. "If Yang had set it off, she'd have joked how she was on fire for days."
He seemed taken aback for a moment before laughing politely with a hint of tittering. "Ah, yes. Your friend has an affinity for fire, or so it seemed at the Battle of the Maidens, when she forced you to yield in such a brutal way."
"I've been hit harder in a sparring match," Weiss replied, frowning slightly. Was he insinuating that she couldn't take a few punches? Sure, Yang had gotten the upper hand in the match, but it had been close. Weiss was a far cry from her debut at Beacon.
"I wouldn't know," Varys said, spreading his hands - soft and decorated with rings, Weiss noted - "I am no fighter. The spectre of getting accidentally maimed or killed in training is too much for me."
Weiss suppressed a scoff - she suspected he was no stranger to murder - and nodded. "It's not for everyone. Huntresses are a minority back home."
"And competition might winnow the numbers down even more, I suppose?"
"The Grimm do that already," she said, her lips forming a thin line as she thought about Ruby and Yang's mom.
"Ah." He nodded once more. "But I am keeping you from joining your friends. I would not want you to miss out on what they are doing any longer. Good day, my lady."
"Good day, Master." She nodded, more curtly than she had intended - it had been harder than she had hoped to hide her feelings toward him - and walked on.
The brief talk had been weird, she realised as she climbed the stairs to their quarters. Varys's small talk was usually smoother and more casual. Did he suspect that they were on to him? Was that why he had stressed that he was no fighter?
She would have to ponder this further. First, she had to inform the others that the jars contained wildfire and that it had been handled.
*****
The Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
With the jars' mystery solved, and after a thorough check for spies, Blake Belladonna and Weiss were poring over the pictures on Weiss's scroll. Blake had learned the numerical system used in Westeros - at least the current system - and so had Weiss, but the scanning app on her scroll didn't recognise any numbers or letters, and Weiss's attempt to train it by hand hadn't worked out as well as they had hoped - somehow, the app steadfastly refused to read the letters and numbers as very badly hand-written texts and numbers in Remnant.
So, they had to go over the pictures one by one. It didn't do good things for the scroll's charge, of course. And it was very tiring to look at hand-drawn columns on a small display.
"I think we've established that the costs for the Court's staff and food and other supplies have been steadily rising since Lord Baelish was installed as Master of Coin," Weiss said.
Blake ran the numbers in her head. "Substantial, but not outrageous - for Westeros."
"Yes." Weiss sighed. "It could be due to rising prices. But we can't tell. And we haven't even touched the extraordinary expenses. We need a more detailed analysis. And for that, we'll have to transcribe the ledger's data into my finance app."
Blake winced. "That will take a while. We could split it up between everyone, but…"
Weiss nodded. "I love and respect Ruby, she's great, but she's not a good fit for this. If it were related to weapon construction, maybe. But I'd have to check her work myself."
"And Yang's not patient enough for such work. If it were a game…" Blake added.
"That leaves us," Weiss said.
Blake suppressed a sigh. That would take time she couldn't spend on spying.
"Or, rather, me, since you're needed for surveillance," Weiss went on.
Blake managed not to smile at that. Weiss snorted anyway.
"Say…" Weiss trailed off. "Never mind."
"What?" The last thing Blake wanted to do while on a recon mission was to wonder what Weiss wanted to talk about but had not dared to ask.
"Are you related to Ghira Belladonna?" Blake blinked, and Weiss, who was not meeting her eyes, went on: "I am just… You mentioned that your parents were members of the White Fang, and that they left, and you stayed when it became more violent."
"When it
became violent," Blake corrected her. "It was a peaceful movement despite the best efforts of the authorities to provoke the exact response Sienna Khan then gave them once she took over." With the help of Adam.
"When it became violent," Weiss conceded. "Anyway, I was just curious - it's the only Belladonna I know except you."
Blake was tempted to comment 'typical', or 'took you long enough', but that would have been petty and inappropriate. "My father."
Weiss stared at her, mouth slightly open, for a moment.
"Yes, really," Blake added with a twisted grin before Weiss could say anything.
Her friend blushed and frowned at her. "So… You're the daughter of the leader of Menagerie?"
"Yes." Blake held back from adding another sarcastic comment.
"And you ran away from home against the wishes of your parents."
"To join the White Fang, yes." As Blake had already told her team. "The biggest mistake of my life."
"Ah." Weiss slowly, almost imperceptibly, shook her head.
Blake narrowed her eyes slightly. "Do you disagree?"
"What? No, no. Just… comparing families, I guess. Leaving my home and attending Beacon was the best decision I ever made." Weiss snorted and absentmindedly ran a finger over the scar on her face.
"I can't disagree with that," Blake told her, trying to take the sting out of her words with a wry smile - Weiss had said that her father had done his best to ruin her life, though she hadn't gone into detail.
Weiss chuckled, once, so it probably worked.
They looked at each other for a few seconds, then Blake nodded. This wasn't the time to pry. "So… I'll go check on the usual suspects." They still didn't know what had happened to the poor kid, they didn't have any lead on the poisoner and their investigation of Lord Baelish was just starting, but Blake was, after months here, sure that there were more plots going on that she wasn't aware of. Not yet, she hoped.
Weiss nodded.
*****
The Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
"Loose!"
Yang Xiao Long was moving before the archers started drawing their bows and shooting. Unlike their first attempts, they were no longer hesitating. And with their arrows going through a series of Weiss's accelerating glyphs, evading their shots was a bit of a challenge - in fact, she had to deflect one shot with her left gauntlet as she threw herself to the side, her other hand touching the ground of the training yard, bending before straightening and pushing herself straight up.
The glyphs rose just as the archers knocked their next arrows, and Yang bared her teeth in a fiery grin as another volley flew towards her. Two were too low, one had been leading her jump too much, but three flew true. She caught two on Ember Celica's armour plates, but the third hit her aura.
"Hit!" Weiss announced, and the archers cheered.
Yang twisted her body to land on her feet, knees bending to absorb the impact, and straightened as she smiled at the archers - volunteers from Lord Eddard's men. "Yeah, good aim there, guys."
The six men smiled back, obviously proud. Good. It had taken them a few demonstrations to both get over their hesitation to shoot at Team RWBY with actual arrows and to understand how to use Weiss's glyphs, but now, Yang's team could finally train against decently fast ranged attacks. Well, except for Weiss, who was needed to create the glyphs. But Weiss was the one best suited to counter such attacks, thanks to her barrier glyphs anyway. They still needed to figure out how to train evading fire attacks. Dodging water was not going to help much if a witch could shoot fire at you at higher velocities.
"Short break!" Yang announced. Archers weren't marksmen; shooting arrows took a lot out of them - they were good for a few minutes of quick firing, tops - and if Yang didn't set an example, they might push themselves and strain some muscle out of pride. At least the Northeners didn't worship them as messengers from the Seven.
She started walking to the rest area, on the other side of the yard - far from where they were shooting at the wall. Which was sporting a few more holes by now; those arrows were almost as fast as some of the slower cartridges back home. Actually, she would have to check if she could adapt Ember Celica's cartridges; with the short barrels in her gauntlets, her shots were on the slower side as well, compared to, say, Ruby's Crescent Rose. They hit hard since they were shotgun rounds, but that wouldn't matter if the target dodged… Hm. If she strengthened the chambers, she could use stronger loads. That would help with muzzle velocity…
"If Theon saw this, he would be green with envy!" Bran, who had been watching attentively, commented when Yang reached the jug of water at the edge of the fenced-off training area. He was holding the rear part of one of the arrows that had hit the backstop and shattered. "It's a bit wasteful, though - Ser Jory has complained about having to buy more arrows."
"Ah." Yang nodded, then checked the seal on the jug for any sign of tampering before breaking it and taking a big swallow. "I thought we were paying."
"Yes." Bran nodded, as if that explained the complaints.
Well, he was a kid. And as long as Ser Jory didn't complain to them… On the other hand, why wouldn't he? Was he hiding some resentment? "Did he say anything else about that?"
"Uh…" Bran scrunched his nose. "No! Just said he didn't like sending people out to buy arrows in the city."
Yang frowned after taking another big swallow. That shouldn't be a problem, should it? It wasn't as if the guards of House Stark had a lot to do, was it? She'd have to ask Blake about that. And Weiss. Trying to pump Bran for information wouldn't be right; he was a boy, after all.
"So, can anyone learn to dodge arrows?" Bran asked. "You could dodge magic arrows, so a normal person could dodge normal arrows, right?"
Yang winced. That was… Not good. She had to nip that in the bud at once before Bran tried dodging arrows by himself.
*****
The Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
"The feast is about to start, hurry up, guys!" Yang grinned. The cooks always pulled out the stops for such occasions. "I'm not about to miss out on the good food because you're slow to get ready!"
Weiss sniffed from where she was adjusting her ponytail. "Who monopolised the bathtub for an hour?"
"It wasn't an hour. And I needed to go first since these locks take time to style!" Yang ran a hand through her mane.
Blake snorted, and Yang turned to grin at her partner, who was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "I'm sure they've got the best fish!" Blake's bow twitched, and Yang's grin widened - she knew what made her partner tick.
"The staff know our preferences," Weiss commented. "I doubt that they will run out of any dishes before we arrive. In fact, I doubt they would start serving food before we're present; that would be seen as an insult."
Yang shrugged. "If we're late, it's our fault. Or yours, actually, for being so slow."
"That's not how things work," Weiss corrected her with another sniff. "If Lord Eddard started the feast without us, the Court would assume he was deliberately snubbing us. And so would I, actually," she added. "We do have a reputation here, after all."
One Yang had mixed feelings about. Sure, people respecting you was nice - no one looked down on her or made some sexist remark - but she didn't like people bowing to her and treating her like some divine messenger. At least, most of their friends here didn't do that.
"Besides, they have no clocks, so we can't be late since there's no precise time!" Ruby had appeared, smiling widely, Crescent Rose on her back and covered by her cape. She ran a hand over her skirt to smooth it out in a familiar gesture, then frowned. "I think I need to visit a tailor; the hem is fraying a bit again."
Yang smirked and glanced at Blake. "Combat skirt problems, am I right?"
Her partner's lips spread in a toothy smile as she nodded.
Weiss made that scoffing sound she did when irritated. "Let's go! We shouldn't hold up the feast's start."
"Wait! If we're early, won't that mean others who are on time will miss out on food?" Ruby asked.
"They should have been early as well, then. I would, if I were hungry. Matter of fact, I am," Weiss said.
"Let's feed the Ice Queen before she gets cranky," Yang said.
"Crankier," Ruby added.
"I heard that!"
Yang watched Ruby checking the traps set for thieves, and then the team left the room.
*****
"Lady Yang! I saw you training today! You were almost as fast as your sister!"
"Not quite that fast," Yang told Arya. Nobody was as fast as Ruby when she used her Semblance. "But yeah, I did pretty well." No need to fake humility. "But so did your father's archers."
"Oh, yes! If Theon could see them, his face would be stuck in a pout!" Arya grinned.
First Bran, then Arya… Well, Theon did think very highly of his own skill at archery and wasn't shy to say so. Unlike Jon, who had great talent with the sword but was too shy to say anything about it. And too shy to join Yang and her friends at the feast. "Have you seen Jon around?" she asked Arya.
The girl blinked. "He should be…" She looked around, frowning more deeply with every second. "I'll hunt him down and drag his sorry butt back here, my lady!" she announced, then turned and vanished in the crowd.
"'Drag his sorry butt back here'?" Weiss, sitting next to Yang, asked as she bent away so a serving girl standing between her and Ruby could place more food on the table. "Why, I wonder where she picked up that expression."
"She got it from me, of course!" Yang chuckled. "And I bet she told her Father and the Septa so when they asked." The girl was sneaky, after all.
"If future generations ask themselves why the Court language became so coarse, they will end up with your name." Weiss sniffed again, but Yang could tell that she wasn't serious.
"It means I'll have left a lasting impression!" Yang grinned again and refilled her cup - from their own jug, of course. Less temptation for the poisoner to tamper with the wine and beer of the feast. Varys kept saying he was following up leads, but Blake didn't think he was actually doing that much - she hadn't noticed much of a change amongst the child spies - and Yang trusted her partner over the 'Master of Whispers' any day of the week.
And, speaking of the devil… She smiled at the sight of Blake serving herself another plateful of fish from the pot on the table. "Enjoying yourself?"
"Someone has to eat all the fish," Blake replied without blushing.
"Might as well be you, huh?"
"I think that people are a bit reluctant to eat from our favourite dishes - not because they wish to leave more for us, but to avoid another attempt to poison us," Blake went on before filling her mouth with the next serving.
Oh. Yang frowned. That wasn't good. Not too bad, either, but still… Was that also why they were a little less bothered by all the courtiers than usual? At least their friends stuck with them - Lady Brienne sat across from them, next to Bran and the empty space where Arya had been sitting before she had gone to hunt down Jon. The royal family - well, the royal siblings, Yang corrected herself with a slight wince - were seated next to them, with Prince Joffrey between Lady Sansa and Lord Eddard, though… Oh. The Prince just got up, talking to Lord Eddard before leaving the table.
Yang turned to Blake.
"He is probably tired," her partner said. Which meant that was what the Prince had told the regent.
Tired - or afraid? The Prince hadn't struck her as afraid, but he had seemed a bit nervous - and he had avoided them at the feast, hadn't he?
Yang pressed her lips together. Damn, if the Prince was now too afraid of getting caught in the crossfire to socialise with them, things were getting really bad.
She watched Lady Sansa get up, but the Prince waved her off, and she sat down again, frowning. Tough luck, Yang thought. But the Prince didn't mean to snub her, she was sure of that.
She noticed a lot of people watching the Prince leave. Sure, he was the Prince, and the highest-ranked noble at the table - the feast was in his honour - but how many of them were watching for signs of poison? Damn, she was losing her appetite, and before dessert was served!
They really needed to track down this poisoner! The longer this went on, the worse things would get - like when a Grimm started to haunt an isolated village, people would start panicking, and that would make things even worse. But what could they do?
She glanced at Blake. Her partner's expression hadn't changed much, but Yang could see that she was no longer enjoying her fish dishes but faking it. She wouldn't have missed the mood shift, either, of course - Blake rarely missed anything. Best partner she could wish for; with her at Yang's side, they could grow old together as Huntresses; something few achieved. So…
A gasp from Weiss drew her attention before she could try to lift Blake's mood with some jokes and some flirting. "My dust cartridges!"
"Wrghlat?" Ruby leaned in from the other side after hastily swallowing her food.
"My spare dust cartridges - they're gone!" Weiss hissed, patting her dress's hidden pockets down. "Some of them," she corrected herself a moment later.
"But…" Ruby trailed off.
Weiss wouldn't have forgotten to carry her cartridges, Yang knew. A Huntress lived and died by being ready for a fight, and Weiss was very anal about that stuff, especially Dust.
Someone had picked her pockets! "A thief!" Yang hissed, looking around.
They were surrounded by dozens of people. Anyone could be...
"Main suspects would be the serving staff; they were the only ones getting close to us for such a theft," Blake said.
That made sense. "We need to check all of them, then." Yang hadn't paid attention to the servants - not how she should have. Uncle Qrow would scold her for such a lapse.
"Or we can get help!" Ruby said. Before Yang could ask what she meant, she turned to Lady Sansa. "Lady Sansa! We need Lady!"
"Huh?" Lady Sansa wasn't the only one who was confused.
*****
"This way!" Lady Sansa announced the obvious - Lady, nose loudly sniffing, was already moving down the next hallway. "She got the trail!"
"Good girl!" Ruby cheered.
Yang grinned. Indeed - whoever had stolen the dust, they hadn't planned for Lady's nose! Even Blake was smiling, toothily, of course, at the direwolf.
"Let's hope they didn't run too far," Weiss, ever the pessimist, muttered as they reached a side door leading outside the building.
"They cannot run faster than we can track them!" Ruby announced.
Yang hoped she was correct.
Whoever had stolen the dust knew how to move - the route they followed was quite obscure, or so Blake would call it. It led through dark passages and doors, but not towards the main gate. That meant the thief was either not planning to leave the Keep, which was good, or trying to use a secret passage - which was also good since Blake knew those like the back of her hand.
Yang grinned. They would get the thief!
They rounded the next corner, past some herbal mini-garden, and almost ran into a huge figure coming their way. Lady started barking loudly.
"Clegane!" Blake hissed.
"Get your wolf under control!"
Yeah, that was the man's voice.
Lady, though, kept barking, circling around the man as he turned - and Yang saw he was carrying a big bag slung over his shoulder.
"Lady!" Lady Sansa yelled, but the wolf was growling now.
At the bag, Yang realised.
"It smells like blood," Blake whispered behind her.
"Put down the bag!" Yang snapped, stepping forward, Blake moving to her side, Gambol Shroud out.
Weiss pulled Lady Sansa back as Ruby drew Crescent Rose.
"I caught a thief," Clegane snapped. "Snuck in disguised as a servant. Tried to get to the Prince." He dropped the bag, and Yang caught a glimpse of brown hair when it fell slightly open.
Blake moved forward, kneeling down, and Yang glared at Clegane until he took a step back.
"Don't look!" Weiss whispered to Lady Sansa.
Yang hoped Ruby listened to her partner as well since Blake opened the bag and revealed the body of a young woman. "She served us at the table."
"She stole from us," Weiss hissed, then glared at Clegane. "You killed her?"
Before the man could say anything, an explosion shattered the windows above them.
And Yang realised that they were close to the royal quarters.
*****
. Well, Blake just found a wildfire cache... But the faceless men were mentioned...