Mantle, Vacuo, Menagerie

Robyn Hill found herself clinging to the TV screen, trying her best to make sense of the static-filled picture. On the TV was the broadcasted live news coming from Mount Glenn. The man — the young man — standing on the small podium took her full attention. At least she thought it was a young man, the static makes it hard to tell.

Trying to make out the features of the speaker through the interference, never mind what he was actually saying, was very difficult. But still, Robyn still closely watched the screen, as well as the many like-minded people gathered around her, in silence, trying to catch at least something from the broadcast.

Unfortunately, they did not have a better option other than a screen transmitting with terrible interference and loss of signal. Atlas, and therefore Mantle, tried their best to destroy any possibility of any connection with Glenn. Even if it was just an ordinary TV broadcast…

Even, when it was broadcasting such an important event.

"Citizens of Glenn Kingdom," The speaker, whose voice was distorted due to interference, leaned forward slightly. "Today, October 2, we remember the most tragic event, the most terrible night in our life…"

After another second, the guy's voice broke off again, and Robyn involuntarily hissed. Bloody Atlas and it's government! Couldn't they, at least for a second, at least for a moment, take their heads out of their asses and understand that not all events in the world should be reduced to politics?! Couldn't they have stopped hacking the message with Glenn for at least one day, just one hour, for the sake of all those who died in what is already being called 'The Tragedy of Glenn'? For the sake of their own residents that lost their friends, acquaintances, family members in that event?! Couldn't they just let them see the memorial service for the heroes who stood against the horde of Grimm?! Nobody was demanding for the Council to recognize Glenn! Just a minute of memory in honor of people who gave their lives in the fight against Grimm — the common enemy of all mankind!?

Of course, they could not, because Atlas always did not care about any sacrifices made by other states. They didn't even care about Mantle — why would they make an exception for another state on the other side of the world? Even if simple honor and conscience demanded it…

A moment later, a mechanic from Robyn's company reached out to the equipment standing next to him and began swearing. "It looks like this channel has just been blocked… Of course, because everyone knows that Mantle has not completely fucked up their respect for other people, which means that many will watch the broadcast from Glenn. So they spent precious time figuring out the connection and cutting it off."

After these words, there was a muffled hubbub from Robyn's associates, who only clenched her hand into a fist. Bloody Atlas and its retarded policies! All of them, and their colonial administration in Mantle! None of them hold anything as sacred anymore!

Rising from her seat in a huff, Robyn attracted the attention of the others, but a moment later, when the head of their resistance-cell simply headed for the smoking room, the rest of the people returned to their discussion.

Robyn, having approached the right door, opened it, and then found herself on a street in a small nook between two old abandoned residential buildings. Although, the fact that they were abandoned could only be judged by the lack of people nearby and not by their appearance. In the poor districts of Mantle, every house looked the same.

Robyn, after taking a step outside, took a deep breath of air, then winced. Ha, another Schnee plant must have opened somewhere nearby, the pollution almost made the air unbreathable. And now, the very thought that she could 'get' some fresh air seemed to her an inappropriate joke.

Fucking Schnee…

Robyn leaned against the wall beside her and exhaled, staring up at the overcast sky.

The slums of Mantle have always existed in the semi-darkness, the bulk of the city of Atlas hanging above them, shading the slums from the Sun. And if shit rolls downhill, what kind of shit pile is Mantle? Of course, which of the wealthy Atlas dwellers give a shit about the people swarming under their feet, ordinary workers, who worked for the benefit of the rich?!

None from Atlas knew what it was really like to actually work at all. Never mind how it feels when you have to work three twelve-hour shifts in a row to feed your family. How it feels when you don't even have enough money for heating. They can stand in their ivory towers and sneer. After all, you don't work out your quota in the mines, so of course your pay was docked. They have never felt the sadness and surprise when a mother dies in their work, and not even from working in a chemical plant or a steel mill, or someplace dangerous.

Who the hell needs to worry about safety in a sewing workshop, who cares that a three-ton container is not secured safely? Mounts cost money, after all, and the Schnee knows how to count money.

Robyn clenched her fingers into a fist before hissing and unclenching her hand, involuntarily shifting her gaze to her bandaged wound. Fortunately, the doctors managed to save the finger and Robyn felt that it was gradually regaining its functionality, but it will take more weeks and months before it stops hurting.

After all, a protective mechanism for a machine tool costs money, but new workers do not.

There are many people in Mantle who are ready to grab any piece served from the master's table, one more or less is no difference.

Robyn hated Atlas. Hated it more than anything in this world. More than the Grimm or even the bandits who once robbed her in the Mantle slums.

Even the bandits had a conscience. If you gave everything to them, they left you alone and did not touch you, but Atlas had nothing but greed. Even after taking everything away from you, they needed more. Not only money, not only valuables, they took away your health, family, and even your choice.

They would rip off your skin alive, eat you from the inside until only a skeleton was left of you, and they would even grind the skeleton into dust.

'New fertilizer from the Schnee company, with natural bone meal, only twenty-five liens per serving!' Robyn spat in hatred, then sighed.

Mantle had always disliked Atlas, but now? Now it was more than just dislike, it was boiling hatred. Is that why Atlas was so afraid to recognize Glenn as kingdom? To prevent Mantle from having the opportunity to look at another world? At another possibility?

A world without the tyranny of the Councils? A world ruled not by the rich, eating the poor of Mantle for dinner, but by a national hero and a hero that stood against the hordes of Grimm?

A world where not a handful of fat tycoons decided who, and what a person should buy, but the state itself, looking after the needs of society? Not a world of rotten rich people gorging themselves on the poor? But something new, something more perfect?

Robyn spat at her feet again, then returned to the inside of the building.

A moment later, a small corridor appeared before her eyes, immediately turning into a basement room, illuminated only by a dim light; a screen flickering helplessly with clutters on the wall. There were six of her friends and comrades who followed her from her factory; and her pride.

There was a poster on a free wall that she managed to get with difficulty, but now, looking at it, Robyn believed that she had not done so in vain.

A young man was standing on the large wall-to-wall poster, holding out his hand to the beholder. A boy who looked about twenty, with lively eyes and a kind smile, trying to help a simple worker of Mantle. Trying to help him throw off the shackles of the tyrannical Atlas.

'The Kingdom of Glenn has become free!' Read the signature under the figure of King Osmond.

'Mantle will be free!' Robyn exhaled and looked at the poster, and then spoke these words to herself again.

"Mantle will be free."

After that, Robyn touched the pistol in her pocket and nodded grimly. "Whatever it takes."

***

Roman slowly poured himself another shot of vodka, after which he drank it wordlessly, as he looked forward. Olivia, who was standing next to him, put her hand on Roman's shoulder in a supportive gesture, but he only slowly turned his gaze to his wife, before then staring into the distance again.

Night, Gretchen, Roman, Olivia — they were all silent. The usual boisterous bunch was uncharacteristically silent.

Today was an Anniversary, the third year since that very event that had changed their lives forever.

How much had changed in their lives that very night?

Was it their expectations from the life of a Hunter?

They all wanted different things. Adventure, excitement, money, even fame. Everyone had their own answer when asked. Back then, before all of it, it seemed as if they knew what to expect from the work of a Hunter. It seemed to them that they knew about everything. That they are hardened Hunters-in-training, ready for any horror.

They had seen death before, faced Grimm before, they thought that they were ready.

How petty and naive they were seemed to them now, after all that they've experienced.

None of them came back to the life of a Hunter after that night.

After re-establishing air links with Vale, they all returned to Beacon for the last time, petitioning for withdrawal from Beacon.

Headmaster Ozpin understood them and therefore helped as much as he could. He paid compensation, prescribed psychological assistance, and conducted a rehabilitation course. They were all grateful to him in one way or another, perhaps they even felt sorry for upsetting the understanding Headmaster so much, but after that night, none of them could become a Hunter anymore.

Now, years later, much has been forgotten.

They have mostly forgotten the screams of children burning in a collapsed orphanage. The torn bodies of civilians, dumped as if as an altar to the cruel deity of Grimm, no longer appear in their dreams. The panic, the horror, all nothing more than foggy memories.

But some things have not been forgotten and will never be forgotten.

Roman did not remember the opening hours of the bank he visited every week, but he did remember how many soldiers that Deathstalker had torn apart.

Eight.

Roman killed it later than the others. This Deathstalker only killed soldiers, and it was distracted, an easy kill. And yet, that Deathsatlker was not his target, Roman needed to kill the one that tried to get through to the civilians.

Roman poured himself another shot and drank it in silence, he was supported by his team, but no one spoke a word at that moment.

Three years… Such a long time, so much in life can change in that amount of time.

A team that went through this could not disappear, they stayed together.

Roman married Olivia… Hah, in his eyes she was still as beautiful as on the day of their acquaintance. Even if she had to put the ring on her other hand, as one of her hands now had only three fingers, she was still just as beautiful.

Gretchen had outgrown her loss of an eye and now liked to joke that she was a real pirate with a bandage, and the role of her parrot was now played by Night.

It is a pity that Roman did not attend their wedding. After Olivia got the scar on her face — he had to work on her confidence to be in public for a long time.

Three years, huh… They moved to Vacuo. Hazel, Gretchen's brother, invited them to stay with him. He even gave them money to start their own business. Roman always knew that his real calling was to be a businessman, not a hunter. As the sales showed, he was right.

Hazel… On that first anniversary, he wanted to be with them. To support Gretchen and have a drink with them. But some things cannot be understood by someone who has not experienced them, so they declined.

So the former… No, the still existing ORNG team drank in silence. Nobody needed to say anything.

Perhaps in five years, or in ten, they will be able to treat this day as just another day. A day when they can make jokes and tease each other, bickering, while playing games and discussing the latest news…

But now, today, on the third anniversary of The Tragedy of Glenn, they drank in silence.

***

After a minute of silence in memory of all the victims of the tragedy, the soldiers on the square fired a triple salute. After letting the gunshot settle, several soldiers pulled the veil from the pedestal, revealing a monument to all those who died in that tragedy.

Ghira knew that after the city began rebuilding, even three years later, the remains of the deceased residents were still regularly discovered, many of whom could not even be identified. It was not even possible to bury them with dignity. On the first days after the incident, many bodies were buried without identification in mass graves, in order to avoid epidemics or desecration. And so, until now, many families could not even find their relatives' and friends' graves to say goodbye to them for the last time.

Therefore, perhaps, this memorial was necessary for them as a place where they could find the dead, if only at least symbolically.

The memorial itself was no more than a simple marble stele, engraved with words that echoed into the souls of every inhabitant of the Free Kingdom.

"You will not be forgotten."

Ghira dropped his gaze, then inhaled slowly.

He… he was not here that day and did not know the victims. He neither had families, nor friends among the dead, there were very few faunus among the inhabitants of Glenn in those days, but… It was hard for him to imagine what the people of Glenn went through in those days.

He was afraid to dare imagine what would happen to Menagerie if such a super-horde of Grimm were near Menagerie… They would stand no chance.

But, Glenn survived. Thanks to the strength and sacrifice of King Osmond, the leadership and heroism of the army, and the unyielding will of the people of Glenn, they had survived even this tragedy.

Ghira was even somewhat embarrassed to stand here, among all these people. He empathized with them, sympathized, but he understood that he would never be able to fully understand the hell that the people standing here had gone through. The fact that he was here and now was just an official visit as a figure of support of Menagerie to their ally. He stands here, saluting the fallen residents of Glenn, and yet the feeling that he did not belong was palpable.

At the end, having finished his speech, Jonathan slowly descended from the podium, after which the soldiers again gave a threefold salute and the crowd of people, which had been silent before, slowly began to disperse. There were no festive processions and joyful cheering from the crowd, the second of October for Glenn was a day of remembrance and sorrow.

A week later perhaps, then yes, a small holiday awaits them. Although Cinder Fall was not officially recognized as the heiress of King Osmond, her birthday was still considered a kind of holiday in the city. And a little later, on the seventeenth, the main national holiday of the city, coronation day, was waiting for Mount Glenn.

Ghira watched the crowds of people gathering to honor the memory of all the victims slowly disperse around him, before he was distracted by a feeling of being pulled.

However, it should be said that this feeling was literally a small hand pulling Ghira along by the leg.

Shifting his gaze, Ghira stumbled upon a small girl's questioning gaze. Her beloved daughter was as excited as always." Dad, let's go! Uncle John promised us a bank!"

"A 'banquet', dear." Ghira couldn't help but feel a small smile cross his face. He then crouched down on one knee, even so, still towering above Blake's head, "'Banquet', it means 'dinner'. Well, a fancy one at least."

"Dinner?" Blake thought for a second, her thought process visible on her face, "But it's still daytime now… Do we have to wait until the evening until we can eat!?"

"It is only a figure of speech, Blake." Ghira explained with a smile, before realizing that such a concept might be too difficult for the little girl and quickly began to explain."That is, this dinner will be at lunchtime…"

Hearing another piece of information that contradicted her earlier experience, Blake rolled her eyes for a second, thinking that her father was a big oaf, before shaking her head to focus on something more important, "I'm hungry!"

"Of course, dear," Ghira smiled at his daughter and patted her hair, after which he found his wife, Kali, with a glance that she instantly understood his unspoken thought.

"Who wants ice cream!?" As if out of nowhere, Kali appeared behind Blake, forcing her to turn around, and then literally jump, holding both hands high in excitement. "I want! I do!"

"Then let's go, dear." Kali took Blake's hand and pulled her aside, but Blake suddenly stopped, turning towards Ghira with a confused face. "Dad?!"

Looking at such an adorable scene, Ghira could not resist a soft smile. "You can go ahead and pick your favorite, I'll follow right behind you."

"Okay!" Only after the official confirmation from Ghira, Blake gave in and went towards the nearest store. With Blake away, it allows Ghira to finally stand and look around before finding Osmond slowly approaching him. Or, as he himself asked Ghira to call him, Jonathan. He, along with two guards who, paced along exactly at the walking pace of Jonathan's. It made for a dignified picture.

The soft clatter of a cane served as a reminder as to why Ghira respected this man, and the girl walking with an important look beside him — why he understood him.

Approaching at a suitable distance, Jonathan held out his hand to Ghira — and he answered him with all his considerable strength.

When they first met, Ghira, knowing about Jonathan's condition, tried to be softer with him — to walk slowly and shake hands half-heartedly, but… But Jonathan, even with his diminished capabilities, remained a man with a sense of dignity. Perhaps, he even had every reason to truly respect himself. So, Ghira quickly realized that his actions were nothing more than an act of condescension towards Jonathan. And therefore, now he was not ashamed of the fact that he towered a good thirty centimeters above him, nor by how much he surpassed him in physical strength.

Physical strength was not the end all to everything after all.

"We didn't manage to say hello before," Jonathan smiled a little, letting go of the big man's hand. "Glad to have you here, even if for such a sad occasion."

"I'm glad to be here too, Jonathan." Ghira greeted cordially, before sighing to himself. Kali will probably be very annoyed at him later. She knew that he had some business here in Glenn, but she would definitely be cross with meeting with the king of a friendly state without proper protection or decorum. But, Ghira trusted Jonathan enough to not fear anything untoward.

"Good day to you, Mr. Belladonna." Little Cinder, walking next to Jonathan, looked carefully at Ghira, as if she was assessing a threat, after which she also held out her hand. Ghira, of course, shook her hand much more gently than she did Jonathan.

"Good afternoon, Cinder." Finishing their pleasantries, Ghira gave a certain look at Jonathan's way,

"Apparently, there is no point in inviting you to take a ride in the car." Jonathan correctly assessed the reason as to the absence of Kali and Blake, then sighed.

"Okay, we can walk to the car, it is soundproof. I could invite you to the nearest good restaurant, but I think that you will not leave Kali and Blake behind."

"Absolutely right, so to your limousine it is." Ghira smiled, then glanced at Cinder, asking with his eyes if she would be present at the negotiations, after which Jonathan nodded almost imperceptibly.

In their first meetings, and now still if to a lesser extent, Ghira was against allowing Cinder to attend their secret negotiations, but Jonathan was unshakable in his decision and still managed to push through such a condition. Since then, although Ghira was more and more against it every time their discussion started on the darker aspects of their world, he still had to accept that the girl was present even during the discussion of the… Not the most pleasant things happening in the world.

Ghira was against this, but he was not her father, and if Cinder wanted to, it was not for him to decide how to raise her.

Plus, given what he knew about Cinder, Jonathan, and just how close the two of them are, Ghira didn't think he could separate them in any way.

"Don't remind me that I'm riding around in a limousine," Jonathan sighed, as he moved slowly towards a car parked nearby. "Every time I had to ride this car, I was reminded of Jacques. And, as you might understand, he is not the kind of person whom I would like to remember, never mind emulate in any way."

Just the thought of that damnable man, caused Ghira's expression to sour. Really that man… It is as if he was hell-bent in making everyone on Remnant hate him. Still, he raced to find a suitable topic that he would like to talk about while walking to clear his head off of Jacques. "Cinder, I remember that your birthday is coming soon… Is there a gift you want?"

"Maybe a guidebook on the martial arts of the faunus?" Responded immediately from Cinder, before she added something. "The tiger and hare style if you can, I already have the rest."

"Hmm," Ghira was a little embarrassed at how shocked his appearance must have looked as he looked up at Jonathan. In response, Jonathan only smiled a little at Ghira's reaction. This was the first time he was invited to Cinder's birthday, so he hadn't been prepared for what Cinder would ask for. But, judging by Jonathan's reaction, there was nothing unusual about her request, so Ghira could only shake his head, and acquiesce. "Well, if you want so…"

At Ghira's reply, Cinder only nodded gravely, after which, approaching the car, she opened the door in front of Jonathan, before the bodyguards could think to do so. The bodyguards, however, accustomed to her actions, simply sat in the front compartment, immediately closing the partition behind them. They know full well that it was completely not in their interests to listen in to the negotiations between the two rulers of states.

"By the way, where is Neo?" Only now, Ghira realizing the absence of the other girl that followed Jonathan around, Ghira asked as he got into the car last while closing the door behind him.

"In her room," Jonathan sighed, "She's not very… She doesn't like the second of October much. No need to bother her until the evening."

Ghira, realizing that he had accidentally touched a sore spot, internally gave himself a slap on the head, and then sighed. And so, from the awkward topic, he cursed himself that he had to move on to another awkward topic, "I… I would like to thank you personally for those supplies with medicines."

"Trismegistus?" Jonathan smiled, as if at a personal joke, that only he could understand. Something he did every time he heard the name of the medicine uttered. Although it was he who picked the name, Ghira would allow the man some levity.

Still, after a moment of contemplation, Jonathan started speaking again. "There's no need for thanks… Is it effective, though?"

"More than you might imagine," Ghira sighed.

Is it possible that Jonathan just wanted to hear praise from Ghira? It is quite possible, after all, Jonathan himself probably understood how effective the medicine that he had given them was. So much so that even Ghira himself was not sure if it was real, even after all this time it was in circulation. The medicine couldn't even be called anything other than miraculous. It seemed that with the medicine, even the dead could be resurrected.

Ghira could barely imagine just how much lien Jonathan could have made if he had decided to sell such a thing on the market. Millions, maybe even billions, of liens would be cheap to pay for just one dose of a life-saving medicine that cures all diseases, and closes any wounds in a few minutes.

And yet at the same time it was supposed to be made only with immortelle mixed with Dust to the state of a paste?!

Well, Jonathan could say that it was made with dreams and unicorn farts and Ghira would still believe him. He had seen its miraculous properties after all!

Any analysis of the medicine itself showed absolute crap for results! It was clearly something absolutely incredibly technologically advanced. So technologically advanced that not only Menagerie, even Atlas will not be able to figure out exactly how it works for another hundred years!

However, Jonathan himself refused to disclose both the composition and the method of making such a miracle drug, each time saying that 'without my participation it is impossible'. Ghira was forced to admit that if he himself had such a secret, he would have kept it completely in his hands.

The fact that Jonathan had agreed to share the medicine with Ghira in exchange for some favors, in itself, was an incredible generosity on his part. And it was not the only generosity Jonathan had shown the people of Menagerie.

"Thank you for everything you did for Menagerie," Ghira smiled apologetically.

"Not at all," Jonathan dismissed the thought, with a wave of his hand. "It was nothing difficult."

It may not have been difficult for Jonathan, and he might even consider it nothing more than something minor, but it was actually difficult to overestimate the worth of Jonathan's help.

Ghira did not like politics, but as befits his position as the de facto ruler of Menagerie, he had to plunge into it much more often than he would have liked.

Ghira's position in the White Fang was never as strong as it did in the past, when he first ascended after his father, Ka Belladonna. Winning popular love with his charm and character, he had led the White Fang.

But, those days are long gone.

The policy of pacifism that he pursued had won him his initial support, but, alas, it proved to be untenable in the long run as more Faunus joined the White Fang. Ghira did not want to provoke conflict, or worse a second Faunus War, he only wanted a peaceful coexistence between the people and faunus. But, the dialogues and peaceful processions he championed were slow to achieve their effectiveness nor give out results. And an ineffective policy leads to discontent.

Probably, if it were not for Jonathan, then Ghira would have faced a leadership struggle within the White Fang. It might have even split apart as conflicting factions formed within, he might even have faced a coup from within. Looking in retrospect, Ghira realized that his policy and inaction would have led him down the path towards an imminent coup. Perhaps he could have managed to retain power in Menagerie itself and, probably, prevent a civil war by abdicating, but without Jonathan's help, his days as head of the White Fang were numbered.

But that was nothing more than conjecturing, with Jonathan, he had managed to achieve much more. Official recognition of Menagerie.

It was nothing more than a dream before, and he had achieved it. Even if it was not from a large country, it is still something much more than they had before. And coming from a real hero and savior of the people, from a king, from a person with the most powerful semblance in the last hundred years, it was worth a lot more for Menagerie.

As he had guaranteed help and cooperation from another state, a state that officially recognized the equality of the rights of people and fauna, then the supply of miraculous medicines from Glenn, his position is beyond scrutiny.

Ironically, even the payment Jonathan demanded was more beneficial for Ghira than for Jonathan himself.

Yes, Ghira still felt some… Unpleasant aftertaste from the fact that he was forced to use White Fang, an organization that was created exclusively in the good intentions of peaceful dialogue with people, as an assault force. But needs must when the devil drives, as one says. The capture of Schnee Dust and even working with bandits to ensure that they can 'launder' the dust was something he could barely stomach at first. But as a leader, it was something that he had to live with.

A significant complaint among the more radical of the White Fang about his policies was that his pacifism was associated with inaction. However, now, as soon as he began to seize supplies from the Schnee's, his position as a leader is stronger. Even the more recalcitrant among the White Fang now saw him not only as a charismatic figure, but also as a strong leader, ready to fight for the rights of the faunus.

In other words, for the first time in a long time, and thanks only to Jonathan, Ghira's position as the leader of White Fang was undeniable and even yesterday's critics now supported him in his endeavors.

"So…" Jonathan started, noticing that Ghira was completely lost in his thoughts, "What exactly did you want to talk about. Besides the compliments, of course?"

"Hah… ", Ghira sighed, then shook his head, "It is about… supplies."

"Oh, this," Jonathan nodded, "Is there any problem?"

"No, nothing special," Ghira shook his head. "On the contrary, it's going swimmingly. It's just… Today, a letter came to us, and I would like to know if you have anything to do with it."

"Hmm?" Jonathan held out his hand for the letter that Ghira had pulled from his pocket, and then quickly glanced at it. Cinder, who had previously perfectly fulfilled the role of an invisible observer, only brushed the letter's contents out of the corner of her eye. She quickly determined that there was nothing interesting in it and returned to silently observing the two negotiators. Jonathan, in turn, who had read through the lines, only smiled. "Personally? Hmm… personally speaking, I have nothing to do with this. But indirectly? Perhaps."

"So, this is not a joke." Ghira sighed, receiving the letter back, before shaking his head. "Honestly, I never thought that…"

"You would be working together with Raven Branwen?" Jonathan sighed and smiled as Ghira nodded, before remembering Ozpin and grinning. This is how the supposed 'little help' from that person had manifested itself. "Well, believe me… Life is sometimes full of the most unexpected of surprises."