The way created

Cinder took her last sip of coffee at exactly the same moment that Jonathan set his cutlery aside. Seeing that they were finished, the agent assigned taking the waiter's place, with Jonathan's tacit permission, made his way over to him and collected the dirty dishes in an easy motion before heading into the kitchen to the sink.

Cinder was a little amused to realize that she was so in sync with Jonathan's habits and rhythm of life that she was finishing her breakfast at the same time as Jonathan. The thought made her happy, but she dismissed the thought as unimportant, when Jonathan began to rise from the table. She followed a beat later, letting any potential observer know exactly who was the leader, Jonathan's action determining exactly when breakfast was over and for the day to begin.

Jonathan glanced at Cinder and then looked at her team who had also quickly finished their breakfast and then said calmly. "Get ready, we are leaving in fifteen minutes. I suggest you use the restroom and grab a small bottle of water, leaving the official part of the event without a good reason is highly undesirable, even if you're not the official participants but only the entourage."

Of course each of the young hunters-in-training knew this, but no one would be irritated by the repetition of the instruction, aware of the enormous responsibility that lay upon them at the moment. And every mistake, at best, would simply embarrass the Kingdom of Glenn with their actions and breed a couple of unpleasant rumors, ranging from embarrassing to damaging speculation of why they had to leave the conference. In the worst-case scenario, they would be summarily kidnapped or shot by opponents and supporters of either faction, depending on what crazy idea popped into their heads.

In other words, each of the hunters only nodded briefly at Jonathan's reminder, even Cinder did, before the group separated. Some went straight to the toilet while the others began packing in the small rations and bottles of water along with small bits of energy bars that could be eaten without anyone noticing.

With the practiced ease of a military cadet, Cinder had already prepared everything she needed in a flash as she exited the dining hall into the entrance of the hotel, where the other agents were waiting. Seeing her prompt action, the other members of her team could only sigh, with one unifying thought in their head, which surprisingly enough was mirrored by Cinder if for different reasons. 'Cinder, you have no reason to worry.'

Scanning the road, Cinder could spot at least a dozen agents guarding the road and the hotel – at least that's what she could spot. She wouldn't be surprised if, in fact, the number of agents was close to a hundred, including some almost laughable option like an agent disguising himself as a bin down the street. 'There is no reason to worry. You know perfectly well that everything will go well. It can't go badly, it's unequivocal and simple, it will go well, you have no reason to worry.'

And indeed, Cinder had no reason to worry…

And yet she was still worried.

Her imagination was running wild, fears that had no time to form into a coherent picture, which she instantly dispelled as soon as they could form. Cinder suppressed, and banished them, by repeatedly proving to herself how infinitely stupid and illogical her fears were. And she repeated such a process over and over as a mantra, convincing herself that it was all stupidity and that Cinder shouldn't be afraid…

And yet Cinder still does.

Cinder had always prided herself on her confidence and composure, her poise and self-control…

Still, in the last ten minutes, Cinder had to catch herself three times from trying to start quietly muttering her own conviction under her breath.

Cinder knew that the summit would go well.

Not perfect perhaps, as Cinder knew where Jonathan's decision and his thoughts, plans, and actions would lead, but Cinder knew it wouldn't end in anything horrific. It wouldn't end badly. It couldn't end badly.

Cinder almost bit her tongue, as for the fourth time, she realized that her tongue was beginning to move against her own will, repeating words that were certainly the most logical and natural truth… And which Cinder didn't want to say out loud for fear that she would jinx herself.

Because Cinder prided herself on her self-control and her cold, rational image, which she didn't want to ruin with her muttering.

And for the minuscule unnoticeable insignificant illogical reason, as if saying certain thoughts aloud could in some cases have an effect on their execution.

Though, of course, Cinder's first – and only – concern was for her image.

And no more.

***

Jonathan made his way to the front gate of the hotel, finding Cinder already there, who only glanced at him silently, before skewing her gaze just past his own, by a few millimeters. It was as if she was afraid to meet Jonathan's eyes.

It was a slight, imperceptible change in Cinder's figure that one could only notice after, literally, a dozen years of interacting with her. Jonathan, having studied her facial expressions at a level that surpassed Cinder's own knowledge of herself, for she herself was unaware of this habit of hers, however, could tell.

Cinder always looked directly and openly into people's eyes, for the people she didn't like it was like a contest for her, to see who would blink away first. For the people she liked, it was her to show them her complete openness, that she was not afraid of them and trusted them with the most intimate thing she had – the truth about her perception and condition. To show her trust with the most important thing to her, her weakness, the ability to see the real emotions in her eyes and what lay behind her mask.

On extremely rare occasions, however, Cinder could sometimes, involuntarily and out of her own control, to shy away. To only look at the corners of a person's eye, to hide her own weakness. Cinder would only do this when she didn't want to confide some information about herself for some reason, and it was extremely difficult to see, but still possible.

Cinder didn't like to admit her weakness – not even with Jonathan… No, especially with Jonathan. With Jonathan, she tried to show him how strong she was, to show how much she had grown, of what a good helper she is now and how Jonathan could rely on her. Cinder would never lie to Jonathan, but if there was any way to distract him just a little from Cinder's own condition, to hide her moment of weakness – Cinder would definitely take advantage of that.

Not on purpose, wanting to confuse Jonathan, but subconsciously, seeking to protect him from her own problems, even if at the cost of her own self.

And, as was to be expected, due to the fact that Cinder did this sort of thing extremely rarely and only small signs of hiding her issues, that it was so easy to spot. With how she always portrays herself as an immovable monolith, the smallest crack became very obvious instead.

Jonathan could tell, Cinder was… Nervous – unbelievably so.

If Cinder could, she would have already chewed off half of her nails, pulled out her hair and colored her face the bright green of a tropical frog from the Menagerie jungle.

The difficulty existed in that Cinder couldn't appear nervous like that – to show such weakness. She simply couldn't physically express her nervousness in the way that normal people expressed it. Perhaps she didn't even quite realize she was nervous herself, convincing herself that it wasn't nervousness, but pretty much anything from approaching her period to an upset stomach.

Cinder knew her powers perfectly well, but she was completely unaware of her own weaknesses because she simply ignored them. She just couldn't calmly tell herself that she's lacking something, that she needed help, that she needed someone to interpret her raging emotions.

Jonathan required a helper for actions that required body strength. Cinder required someone with an understanding of the mind.

Jonathan could only shake his head and smile mirthfully at his daughter's uncharacteristically childish behavior – no matter how much she likes to act like an adult, Cinder was still a child in the end.

Jonathan then took a step towards Cinder and wrapped his arm lightly around her, so that Cinder, not even realizing how much she required it, responded by hugging Jonathan back.

There was silence for a second or two before Jonathan was forced to pull away and smile at Cinder. "Don't worry, everything will be fine."

Cinder was rational, logical, and completely unaware of herself. She explained to herself all the reasons why she was right, and found a million confirmations for her own words – and that was why she couldn't understand herself, that she didn't need to find reasons and convictions for herself.

She just needed someone to tell her that everything was going to be alright.

So when she heard Jonathan's words, Cinder could feel her worries melt away, before she nodded briefly and looked up, meeting Jonathan's gaze now able to see him eye-to-eye, a bridge from one mind to the other.

Smiling slightly, Cinder hides any outward expression of her new conviction behind a cold mask. "Sure."

Jonathan gave Cinder a little pat on the head and, smiling, turned around, heading towards the exit and the cars that would bring him to the summit.

Well, Jonathan? Ready for another rodeo?

***

After parting from Jonathan, Cinder got into her armored limousine, squeezing in so that she could let her team enter as well. After her talk with Jonathan, Cinder could feel her shoulders relaxing a little, her breath passing a little more freely from her lungs to her mouth and back again.

It's going to be okay…

Cinder smiled slightly, the mantra she repeated in her head many times now took in the form of Jonathan's voice, somehow strangely giving them a special weight, even if, logically, it wasn't supposed to work that way. Though that only works with ordinary people.

Jonathan, on the other hand, was a magician. Applying other people's logic to him might be foolishness in itself.

And that was justification enough, Jonathan was a mage, which meant that the same indicators and rationales that applied to ordinary people could not apply to him.

But if Jonathan wasn't a mage, would anything change? Maybe it wasn't that he was a mage, but that he was Jonathan, that he has such an effect on Cinder?

Cinder covered her eyes, then exhaled a quiet but full breath before turning away from watching Jonathan's limo in front, looking out the window beside her instead.

The curfew had ended some time ago, but there were still no passers-by on the streets. As far as Cinder knew, there were three reasons for that.

The first was the fact that Jonathan was staying in a hotel on this block, so every civilian was already evacuated, or perhaps they feared going anywhere because of the increased presence of the military here. The second reason was the ongoing civil war, nobody wants to risk getting shot if not for a very pressing reason.

The third and last reason was that Jonathan's diplomatic motorcade is travelling through a prepared route that was already secured from civilians beforehand.

In other words – it was actually perfectly normal that there were no passers-by to be seen on the crosswalk, it would be weird for one to appear instead and expected.

Seeing everything going as planned, so far, strangely helped her calm down even further, even if there was no rational reason that in any way be connected to the course of the summit itself.

Cinder dismissed this strange thought before leaning her head against the cold glass of the limousine, which didn't even vibrate as it drove. Proof of the excellent quality of the vehicle designed for use at the highest official level. As she does, her eyes begin closing, pondering in a mute question what exactly would await Cinder and Jonathan next.

The summit would host a multitude of players, each with their own plans and goals, some wanting to join together in a tenuous alliance to fulfil one goal, some against others for incorrigible reasons. And some are playing for the enemy precisely because Jonathan's defeat would fit into their plans.

And that's not to mention on a deeper level than the simple conventional politics of this world was the war between Ozpin and Salem. This Summit serves as the background for their fight for the Winter Maiden, an aging woman with deteriorating health, and the path the Winter Maiden guards.

Cinder – and therefore Jonathan – did not know exactly what the Maidens were guarding, but they also knew that the Maidens were not simply powerful Huntresses acting as military trump cards for nations. The Maidens held the keys to something even more important and powerful, something that players like Ozpin and Salem wanted. Too bad that Ozpin loves his convoluted plan so much that even when the apocalypse was in the cards, he would not tell Jonathan the full story.

Ozpin knew where to cut short his speech in a way that would embarrass a potential adversary, cut short his previous plans to prevent Jonathan from planning new ones.

According to Ozpin, the Winter Maiden and her powers could have caused the fall of Atlas, which in turn meant a cataclysm of biblical proportions, millions of deaths and a total geopolitical crisis and chaos.

Could Ozpin have been lying? Easily, but what was dangerous was not that Ozpin would lie, but that no one could prove or disprove Ozpin's words. Ozpin had already proven that while he could not be trusted – he could not be dismissed either. His knowledge forces any of Ozpin's adversaries to wrestle with what is true and what is not, sinking into an abyss of doubt and inaction.

The immortal politician did not even need to take a step for himself to destroy his enemy – all he had to do was look ahead, and watch as his opponents went mad. Because at any moment, Ozpin's plan could have a hundred layers to it… and none at all.

Cinder prided herself on her intelligence and attentiveness, at her almost paranormal flair for plans and manipulation, but she was a child against Ozpin… Literally. Comparing their ages Cinder was an infant, barely experienced in this world, against a veteran and cunning old man whose purpose and actions had made him learn all the arts of his trade.

Ozpin also deftly wielded his reputation, turning it into another weapon, applying it easily and freely… except when it was just another deception, hiding the fact that Ozpin's plan was to have no plan.

Cinder covered her eyes, feeling the glass of the limousine window on her forehead as if she hoped it was capable of cooling her blazing mind.

At this moment, Cinder really hated the fact that she was not with Jonathan, everything makes sense when she's with him.

***

Jonathan watched as the Atlas Academy of Hunters, or simply Atlas, as it had once been called before, looming in the distance. Ha, Atlas Academy, an academy for a city which had become an entire state.

It was ironic and fitting, in a way, that the history of the Atlas State ended where it had once begun.

Jonathan was aware, not even on the level of some thoughts hidden from his mind, but quite consciously, that Atlas was already dead. Maybe officially on maps it could still be drawn as a separate independent existing state, stretching a network of enclave cities across Solitas and even to the northern coast of Mistral. It was in fact little different from the habit of people for some time after their acquaintances died to speak of them in the present tense.

Atlas was already dead, and Jonathan had arrived with the intention of pronouncing the time and place of death and reading the deceased's posthumous will. To hope that he could pass on his inheritance to a real child.

But Jonathan knew that it would not end so easily.

There were too many distant relatives, ambitious heirs and hired mourners at this funeral. And unlike other cases where the laws of the state maintained a proper and appropriate order of succession – in this case the deceased was the state itself. There was no law to maintain order in the event of its death.

Closer than a civilized reading of the deceased's last will, it was like a horrid tribal ritual, in which everyone involved wished to tear off their own piece of the deceased dead flesh. Perhaps hoping that in some mystical ritual of absorbing that one, they would become stronger and better.

And Jonathan knew that strange mystical rituals sometimes produced results that were not mystical at all.

As Atlas Academy got closer and closer, transforming from a blurred spire on the horizon first into a solitary tower, then into a large complex. Until finally, its full-form as a full-fledged colossus was revealed, clad simultaneously with guards silently surveying their surroundings and reporters frantically broadcasting something into their cameras and microphones, sometimes with cheering faces, sometimes with frowns.

You could even tell from their faces which camp they belonged to and which state they came from. The frowning ones were Atlas Loyalists, the enthusiastic ones from Glenn, the calm ones from Vacuo and Mistral, and the pensive ones from Vale and Menagerie.

Jonathan, considered by many to be a key player in the anticipated summit, was naturally the last to arrive, closing the long line of dignitaries. The act also seemingly cut off what was happening behind the closed doors of the Academy from the outside world. It was as if the fate of Atlas was really being decided behind the closed doors of an official meeting, rather than being decided long ago. In the backrooms and musings of players who had spent months pondering their moves and their consequences.

What was happening now was not a Summit where meetings for the search for solutions and compromises happened, but simply the articulation of what had already happened. The Summit was nothing more than the closing ceremony of the slow movement of a train reaching its destination along the tracks that are already laid out.

For a moment, Jonathan remembered the event that had led to this moment, an event that felt like an eternity ago in the deserts of Vacuo. His meeting with Ironwood, the starting signal of two trains heading for their inevitable crash. Each of the drivers is aware of their path, but no longer able to stop it, as the details of the future disaster become clearer and clearer.

Jonathan shook his head, this was no time for past regrets, it is done. Now, as Jonathan could feel the limousine stop, is simply the next step.

***

Cinder was not too used to television cameras – though she had survived the supposed trials of fame and the glow of screens and the white-polished smiles of reporters or presenters. Cinder found that she didn't like such activities. Sure, seeing her face smiling from the cover of another fashion magazine was nice, it seemed to quench a bit of Cinder's desire for recognition.

It speaks of her gathered power, popularity, and respect, seeing people admiring her was pleasing. It was a demonstration of how great her power and strength was relative to her surroundings, how influential and famous she was – it was another brick in the foundation of her own conviction, her strength…

But that wasn't what Cinder was aiming for in the end.

As far as recognition was concerned, Cinder could not have cared less about people's attitudes towards her. Cinder didn't care about the general opinion of others or anyone else. She valued her recognition from passers-by at the same level as she valued those passers-by themselves. In other words, only one notch above a stone by the side of the road.

Cinder valued her team's opinion higher, Nora's opinion slightly higher, and she valued Neo's opinion quite strongly, and above the rest of the world, collectively and individually, Cinder valued Jonathan's opinion.

And Jonathan cared little whether she appeared as a model or an accidental victim of the television camera.

No, of course, he admired her every appearance and always praised her for appearing in interviews or flashing a smile at the cameras while donating another sum to another orphanage. But he admired her just as much when Cinder did it without the glare of the TV cameras around her.

And that meant that the cameras meant nothing to Jonathan, which meant that it was Cinder who determined their existence and their impact.

Cinder, certainly, she being the center of attention – it was another proof of her strength, of her long journey upwards, proof that she was no longer as weak as before, that she had changed, become different.

But Cinder didn't like the TV cameras.

She liked being in the spotlight, but a part of her mind also wanted to get as far away from the scrutiny of the TV cameras as possible. Its glare seemingly highlighting every little detail, recording her every word, allowing anyone willing to look at Cinder when she had already forgotten about the last interview, letting them see what Cinder had shown them.

Perhaps even seeing what Cinder didn't want to show them.

It was as if standing under the mechanical eye of a soulless machine, Cinder was suddenly under the gaze of the world.

And Cinder knew how cruel and indifferent the world could be.

So, with a much needed, practiced ease, Cinder once again ignored the camera lens and adopted the pose she was supposed to maintain the entire time of the summit. Cinder exited the limousine, her eyes focused ahead on Jonathan's back as he tapped his cane lightly, moving forward along the carpeted walkway.

Without knowing it, Cinder found it much easier to ignore the camera lenses and their flashing glare after that.

***

Inside the hallowed hall of Atlas' Academy, the site where the Summit is to be held, Jonathan exchanged a handshake with General Ironwood, but the latter's smile was blank and lifeless.

Even when faced with the cold gaze of the television cameras immortalizing the event, Ironwood' expression remained unmoved. The brief gesture of courtesy of the power and negotiating dynamics between the two leaders of the two, at least to the common people, negotiating factions looked like a wake instead.

The cameras caught Ozpin's figure for a moment behind General Ironwood, but he disappeared a moment later, like a ghost flashing between the frames. In the wide open hall filled with dignitaries and the press, Ozpin seems to flit between each with alacrity, weaving his webs, or perhaps, doing nothing at all.

Jonathan's real adversary for the duration of the meeting… No, in the whole matter of Atlas, perhaps even Remnant's future had arrived.

Jonathan then noticed another figure, a silent leonine faunus, the headmaster of Haven, Mistral's Hunter Academy, serving more to lend influence to the summit's proceedings, as an en masse crowd than to do the will of one of the parties. Behind him, a smiling gentleman of respectable years, whose face held many wrinkles in the corners of his mouth, as if smiling was more habitual to him, while his eyes tended to acquire a sly and mocking squint.

Another man from Mistral, looking at whom, Jonathan was torn between wanting to start a dialogue with him, and plugging his ears, trying not to let a single word of his enter his mind.

Then, Jonathan spotted another figure – a middle-aged woman with a rather gaudy necklace of small diamonds that blended poorly with her hair and tinted lips. A Vacuo councillor trying to play the part of an 'important official' rather than actually being one, whose function was solely to signal that Vacuo still matters and that it is strong – achieving the opposite instead.

If you have to shout to the world that you are powerful and important, you're probably not

On the other side, facing the trio, was Ghira Belladonna, trying to maintain an aura of seriousness around him. It wouldn't take a magician's special senses, however, only trivial attentiveness, to see that he felt distinctly out of place. For Ghira, this was true of Summits, high society, in Solitas, Atlas, or even just a Hunter Academy, the barest hint of the spotlight causing the leader of Menagerie's hackles to rise.

His wife, on the other hand, held herself much better. Though, her occasional faltering gaze, and her instinctual need to follow even the minute movements of reporters and television cameras, conveyed that she did not feel as confident as she was trying to show.

Another figure that perhaps the reason for the small gathering was the supposed, main figure of the Summit, Robyn Hill, accompanied by her two deputies. This was the first time Jonathan had seen Robyn in person. Having heard enough reports about her, he couldn't entirely refrain from glancing over her figure, noticing the slight bulge of her artificial leg under the cover of her trousers. Noticing Jonathan's gaze, it was perhaps appropriate how Robyn herself couldn't help but look at his own crippled leg.

All around them were acquaintances, and well-wishers speaking meaningless phrases, greetings, and perhaps even subtle threats.

'I hope you made it to Atlas without incidents…'? What a boorish threat.

Jonathan cast a single glance behind him, noting how silently, maintaining their training, the team of young female hunters followed him, before nodding slightly in the direction of the RATS agent standing nearby.

The agent in turn turned an unreadable glance to the Agent of Atlas standing on the other side, then both nodded slightly at each other, seemingly communicating just by moving their eyes exclusively. Then with a step, another slight movement from the Agent of Atlas caused the man to step forward,

"Thank you for the welcome, but I think we still have time for formal receptions and celebrations after the formal part is over. As I think you all know, there will be no cameras or reporters present during the official talks, so I will ask the esteemed press to leave the grounds."

After these words, there was a muffled rustle and foot stomping around the hall as the press tried to catch the last moments of the gathering. Are they hoping to catch some provocative footage? In the end, it only took a moment later for the academy to be entirely abandoned by civilians, with only the official delegations remaining inside, and the agents ensuring their safety.

Silently, Jonathan looked up, touching the gaze of each of the participants for a moment…

Then he stepped forward, in a single moment of understanding, embodying the movement of the train on certain rails towards an already certain outcome.

The outcome of the summit was certain – everyone present knew it…

But no one guessed what it would be.