92 When you look at the mirror

Jonathan, even when he had suddenly been elevated to the position of king, had the time to savor the fruits, and hardships, of his position. A private jet-ship at the snap of his fingers, high-class restaurants rented for twenty-four hours at a moment's notice, roads cleared for him to travel quietly through Glenn, anything at his beck and call.

And then there were the dozen or so RATS agents who accompanied him at all times. Of course, they were part of the hardships he would have to tread through.

The weeks of waiting to meet any new acquaintance while the agents checked their backgrounds and social circles and made sure they were 'trustworthy. The carefully planned daily schedule, every deviation from which, had to be agreed upon a week in advance, unless he wanted to cause a massive wave of heart attacks among the overexcited and overworked agents.

However, it might not sound idealistic, but at least to be honest with himself, Jonathan had to admit that he liked being rich and powerful.

Not in the sense that he liked to act like a megalomaniacal power hungry individual. He didn't waste time climbing a skyscraper, just so that he could look downwards and laugh evilly at the 'ants' beneath him. No, he simply liked the fact that he's able to call an armored limousine and several escort cars at a snap of his fingers and gain access to any building or establishment without a single question.

In fact, why shouldn't he enjoy his position, at least on some basic, universal level? Anyone would agree with him that travelling in expensive cars was more convenient than travelling on foot and in tattered shoes.

For example, travelling to the Belladonna's and their celebration only took twelve minutes. For everyone else? It would have taken hours.

But for Jonathan? His car had already been prepared in advance so that he could travel immediately when he's done with his other business. The streets had been cleared in advance for his motorcade to pass, and a teleportation gate had been reserved for his personal use. If not for that, he would have had to either stand in traffic, in Glenn and in Menagerie, for at least an hour.

Of course, in theory, he could have simply teleported directly to Menagerie to Belladonna's Manor. But excluding the need for secrecy, which wasn't that secret or problematic per se, that would still have seriously strained his guards, and Belladonna's guards at his 'surprise' visit.

So it was easier for Jonathan to use the more 'common' way of travelling than to deal with the problems of the alternatives.

And so, after only fifteen minutes, Jonathan had found himself in Menagerie, and after another ten, in front of the gates of Ghira Belladonna's mansion.

The hot, humid air was not familiar to Jonathan, it was not yet summer in Glenn, but even so, it would not be as hot as it was in Menagerie. The weather is mostly mild, and being close to the mountains and far away from large bodies of water, Glenn could not boast of any period of high humidity.

But neither it is in Glenn could one hear the sound of the surf and the cry of distant seagulls, barely audible to the ear. The palm trees dotting the landscape or the more shrouded forest of trees with vines of a tropical forest, and the yellow sandy beach… Everything in Menagerie brought to mind a holiday.

A holiday that we can only dream about.

When was the last time Jonathan had a holiday? What could even be considered a 'holiday' in his position? He has indeed spent time on resorts, hotels, and even beaches on occasion, but those were work outings, not a holiday.

When was the last time he had a day when he was not distracted by routine messages from his subordinates, but was only called upon in case of 'the most important and urgent problems, unsolvable except by Jonathan's personal intervention'? Most of his life was spent on holiday in that case.

If we count as a holiday, a day when Jonathan did not deal with work issues at all then…

Never, perhaps? Maybe, if Jonathan tried very hard and strained his memory, he could remember one or two days in the past when this had happened, but he couldn't even make up a week of such a 'holiday'. Even when he'd visited tropical islands, upscale restaurants, ski resorts – it was business, business, business…

And now, heading to Kali's birthday celebration, Jonathan was also still on duty, more than usual even. For it was now that he was supposed to meet with Ghira, assess his condition, discuss treaties and…

Make a decision?

Having made it almost to the doors of the Belladonna residence, stopped twice for a few moments by Ghira's personal guards for routine checks, Jonathan stepped out of his limousine. Glancing at the agents positioned on either side of the entrance, he assessed them.

Menagerie's 'Secret Service Agency' was built along the lines of Glenn's own, at least as far as publicly known and perhaps some secrets due to the closeness of the two rulers, but only that. Given that, no one in their right mind would dare reveal the inner workings of the Secret Service to a completely outside state, it was a somewhat poor imitation.

Still, as part of the alliance between the two States, when Menagerie first organized their nation, with an army, police and secret services, dividing into three branches instead of the amorphous 'combat wing' of the White Fang. Glenn did lend their expertise in organizing such an important aspect of the state.

Not too much, but still enough to say that the Glenn and Menagerie secret services were interconnected somewhat. Even some of their operation directives were somewhat familiar, allowing Jonathan to predict the security procedures.

Or maybe it wasn't that the two services were similar, but that Jonathan had spent too much time around RATS. And so, maybe he had learned to read the faces of professional agents, no small part of whose image was an impenetrable expression.

So Jonathan could say with certainty that at the moment the faces of the surrounding agents were expressing… Relaxation.

Not the kind of relaxation that bored slackers who neglected their work would express, but rather one borne out of confidence.

Really, Jonathan. They're relaxed because they're confident. They are confident in themselves – they are the best of the best. Trained and prepared, equipped with the latest technology. They're confident in Ghira, that he'll protect them, provide them with a decent salary, a pension – and, in the event of tragedy, look after their families. And they have confidence in you. They're confident that you're their staunch ally, from whom they shouldn't expect subterfuge.

Taking a step inside, leaning on his cane, out of habit now more than out of necessity, a moment later, Jonathan found Kali, Ghira, and Blake sitting on the same table, the table of honor. And they, too, noticed his entrance. Smiling warmly at their family friend, here to celebrate an auspicious occasion.

But then again, so did Robyn, and we know what happened to her.

Cinder and Neo hadn't arrived yet, citing busyness before graduation at their Academy, which, naturally, was a lie. At the moment, they were both bored out of their minds, but they were old enough not to want to show up at the birthday party of a woman they didn't know well, the wife of Jonathan's friend. And, old enough to realize that it was always better to have a reason for their absence. The only one who could feel any negative emotions about it, though, was Blake.

Cinder and Neo had, as far as they could call it, befriended the Menagerie heiress… Which didn't make them reconsider their plans, though.

Especially considering the fact that you, Jonathan, have a difficult decision to make at this meeting.

Immediately as Jonathan approached, Ghira gave him a benign smile, extending his hand for a handshake before grinning slightly, "I hope you didn't hit any traffic on the way?"

"No, though it was tricky at some spots," Jonathan replied jokingly without any frills on his part, looking into Ghira's eyes before responding to his firm handshake with his own.

Take a closer look at him, Jonathan. Look at his face, into his eyes – tell me, what is he thinking?

Jonathan was no genius at reading the faces and emotions, but through his job, he had been forced to acquire all sorts of esoteric skills, even ones beyond magic. The ability to keep his emotions in check being one of them. And also the ability to perceive the emotions of his interlocutors – small details that a lot of people sometimes noticed subconsciously, but could never unequivocally point out exactly what made them think that their acquaintance was 'sad' or 'happy'.

The curved corners of the lips, the slightly drooping eyelids, the slightly prominent cheekbones… Oh.

He's afraid, Jonathan. Terrified. Practically trembling. And do you know why?

He understands the situation as well as I do.

Ghira wasn't the most outstanding politician in the world, but he was a politician all the same with years of experience under his belt. Besides, he was not someone stupid – indecisive, perhaps, but certainly not stupid. Had Ghira been stupid, then, he would keep on relying on Glenn's favor, he would not even have tried to find a way to go under Ozpin's wing and considered the fallout from Glenn and Menagerie's 'alliance'.

But instead, Ghira had tried to find escape routes covertly, and, expectedly, realized that his actions had been discovered quite easily. Not that he was too secretive in his actions, after all, as has been said, Ghira was not known for his incredible political talent. And so he was afraid – afraid of what Jonathan had already done to his 'ally' in Mantle, and what he could do now.

He is afraid for himself. For his family. For Menagerie. But his handshake is firm – he's afraid, but he won't back down so easily.

"Please, come inside, the other guests would be delighted to see you!" Ghira nodded his head towards the gathered guests, mostly Menagerie elites and ambassadors of other nations, who had been invited to the celebration of the 'Queen' of Menagerie's birthday. As a social and political gesture of 'unity' between Menagerie and all of Remnant rather than in celebratory mood. A work outing rather than a social one.

However, what else could be expected under the circumstances?

Officials had no holidays, public or personal. Each of their celebrations was a work occasion, and whether it was for a statement, a meeting, or a treaty, nothing was left to chance.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'd rather stand aside right now. Give me time before delving in the pool of piranhas, huh?" Jonathan smiled, letting Ghira's hand go before turning to Kali,

"Happy Birthday, Kali. I know that usually on such occasions one is supposed to wish for happiness, health, money, and beauty, but looking at you and your family instead of congratulations I have to complain. You already have everything I could wish for you – so instead of congratulations, I'll have to make do with a gift. Happy Birthday, Kali."

"Thank you, Jonathan," Kali smiled as she shook Jonathan's hand.

She's afraid, too. Not as much as Ghira – she clings to the idea of friendships, to the hope that you won't do to them what you did to Mantle. While Ghira was in politics, she stood in the shadows behind his back, so she has much more faith in you, in the friendship between you… But she's not stupid, so she's afraid.

"Good afternoon, Blake. I apologize for arriving without Cinder and Neo today," Jonathan then turned to Blake, smiling before extending his hand to her as a sign of respect.

"You better not blunder like this the next time, then," Blake replied jokingly, grabbing Jonathan's hand and letting her small hand sink into Jonathan's palm and shaking it

.

She's scared, too. Not like Ghira or Kali, but she sees her parent's fear, and so is fearful in return. She doesn't quite know what she's afraid of, but she realizes that her family's smiles towards you are strained, and so her own smile was starting to become strained in return.

After shaking Blake's hand, Jonathan took a step back, after which Ghira and Kali took a step back, forming an aisle for Jonathan.

They're fawning on you, not as obnoxiously as some people do, but still. A little more attention, a little more respect, a little wider smile – because they're afraid. They're trying to hold back the storm, cajole you, us, and hope it's enough.

Jonathan, ignoring such actions, took a step forward, not lunging ahead of Ghira, however, allowing the latter to go first. A small symbolic action, nothing more, but Jonathan was somehow sure that Ghira exhaled a little easier as Jonathan stopped to wait for Ghira's steps. Or maybe his imagination had decided to play games with him, and he's seeing things that are not there.

Walking around the venue, Jonathan instantly met the eyes of the many 'important' guests, none of whom could be called Kali's friend or even close acquaintances. Influential officials, tycoons, media stars – Menagerie's elitist beau monde and ambassadors of other nations, as one would expect, and…

Ozpin.

Perhaps Jonathan could even applaud Ghira's audacity, and in hindsight it is clear why the man had been so terrified of his presence. Indeed, Jonathan wouldn't kill Ghira and his family at his wife's birthday party, would he? However, Ozpin's presence here? Definitely made it seriously difficult to predict his reaction.

Why is he here?

And does it matter in the end?

Indeed, it was, by and large, irrelevant whether Ozpin was here at Ghira's invitation, or pulled one of the hundreds of thousands of favors promised to him for an invitation. Even if he appeared here against Ghira's wishes, which was highly unlikely, it wasn't like anyone could simply escort him away at this point. What mattered was not how Ozpin had appeared here, but why he had appeared here.

Of course, Ghira knew very well the strained relations between Jonathan and Ozpin, and his presence here could be taken as a provocation. And Ozpin himself of course understood this all the more. It couldn't have been a coincidence, as both Jonathan and Ozpin barely had a common social circle, the elites of the world generally picking one of the two camps.

And Ghira and especially Kali, were not Ozpin's acquaintances. At least as the wider world knew it, so Ozpin's presence here has garnered a lot of attention other than Jonathan's, but that was also not something important.

Ozpin had shown up at Kali's birthday party for a purpose, but what?

Jonathan's mind kicked into gear with all the speed and vigor it could muster, eager to use the seconds given to it by the stretched time of Jonathan's slow movement towards the professor, analyzing one option after another.

If Ozpin is here, then he wants to be here. To provoke me? Provoke me to do what? To put caution in the wind, trying to deal with him? No, I'm not that stupid, and Ozpin doesn't think I'm stupid enough to count on such a plan to work. Besides, it's too aggressive and bloodthirsty for him…

A second passed…

To provoke me into violent action? To put pressure on my psyche or to make me behave irrationally and make the wrong decision, to leave me no time to think. Or is it just a symbolic demonstration, a demonstration of intimacy with Ghira? The unseen threat that if I didn't act, Menagerie would fall completely under Ozpin's control? Perhaps…

Another second passed, as Jonathan took another step.

But what reaction does Ozpin expect from me now? Does he want me to turn around and walk away? Or does he want me to show unity with Ozpin in the face of Ghira? To appease Ghira? To appease the Menagerie elites, or just to send a message to his enemies through me? What does Ozpin want, what does Ozpin want!

Jonathan took step after step slowly, moving as if underwater, walking forcibly against the pressure of the liquid, against the current. His eyes and mind raced trying to assess every small, imperceptible detail about Ozpin with his gaze, as if it was in the buttoned buttons or neat trousers that the answer about his real intentions lurked. As if Jonathan could somehow avert the disaster, which could be nothing else but disaster, a collision with Ozpin.

Alas, no matter how much he wished otherwise, time waited for no one, and he had finally arrived in front of Ozpin.

Slowly, as if in slow motion, Jonathan raised his hand, feeling his mind working in overdrive for a moment as he held out his hand for a handshake.

"It's good to see you here… Professor Ozpin." Though Jonathan pronounced the words as he usually did, he could practically feel each letter rolling across his tongue with an unpleasant taste, almost oozing bile irony.

"Likewise, Your Majesty," Jonathan could practically feel each sound echoing in Ozpin's voice as it was grated metal, before he felt Ozpin's warm hand touch his own.

The handshake came out firm, even a little more firm than what would be considered polite. Clasping their fingers, Ozpin and Jonathan looked into each other's eyes for a moment, letting the whole world stand still during their wordless battle. Two minds, each trying to understand the other, for a moment it was as if the world only consisted of the two of them, the sounds and sight of the rest of the world blurring.

Before the moment passed, and the sound of the hustle and bustle of the busy venue returned to Jonathan's ears. The interminably long moment of the handshake was interrupted as both participants unclasped their hands.

"I didn't think I'd see you here today, Professor Ozpin," Jonathan's words could be described as carrying an undertone, but there was definitely no ulterior motive to the current conversation. After all, if Jonathan couldn't even hope to get an answer from Ozpin during this conversation, why bother with a veiled dialogue when Jonathan could just get away with a couple of meaningless phrases?

These phrases were a reflex of his mind, trained by the many meaningless previous conversations he had with dignitaries, and could come out with ease and without a hitch at any moment. That is without distracting his brain from the real tasks at hand.

"It was, admittedly, also quite a surprise to me," Professor Ozpin replied with an equally meaningless phrase.

Of course, Jonathan could have interpreted this phrase as subterfuge, speaking while meaning something else, as expected of a conversation with his most prominent political opponent. But Jonathan had no doubt that Ozpin did not mean anything meaningful either, simply speaking to maintain the appearance of social niceties than actually intending to talk business, as it were.

So Jonathan didn't bother to look deeper into Ozpin's words and analyze them, constructing complex multistep explanations of every word. Ignoring the subtext, real or imagined, of 'Ghira is leading his own game' or anything like that, simply replying with a simple nod.

"However, it's nice to have you here, Professor Ozpin, but if you'll excuse me, I'd like to have a chat with the lady of the occasion. I think we'll always have time to talk to you later,"

Jonathan interrupted the meaningless exchange of air with Ozpin.

"Of course, Your Majesty," Ozpin agreed easily, before taking a step back and turning around, now looking for someone else who might be more productive to talk to than Jonathan.

Jonathan, leaning on his cane, walked back to where he was prior, finding Ghira with his gaze. And sure enough, as one might expect, he found Ghira's gaze was locked on him, probably ever since he began to walk towards Ozpin, with a stretched smile seemingly frozen into his face like a posthumous mask.

And the fear that he had noticed on Ghira before, had somehow intensified.

His eyes were dilated so wide, that if he didn't know better, he would've thought that he was on drugs. Jonathan didn't need to look all that hard to notice that Ghira was minutely shaking, with his pallor much more pale and clammy than before.

He's not just scared, he's panic-stricken, Jonathan. Panic-stricken terror of you.

An unpleasant feeling rose up inside Jonathan, like a nasty lump of bile rolling down his esophagus and up to his throat. What exactly was it? Anger? Contempt? Irritation? No, some other, stranger and less understandable feeling, encompassing many thoughts at once.

How can they treat me like this, like I'm some bloody butcher ready to put them under the knife for their displeasure?! I'm not like that!

Oh no, I understand them, I betrayed Robyn and destroyed the Mantle Revolution for the sake of my state, they're right to be wary of me, I don't blame them.

But I will destroy them, Ozpin, Menagerie, the whole world for my lofty goals of world peace! There will be eternal peace in Remnant, as soon as we kill all those who would threaten that peace!

No, I'm just trying to help Glenn, and Menagerie included. I'm not a villain, I'll take care of them as best I can! I will never allow my new subjects to be disadvantaged!

As long as they are loyal. The loyalists of Ghira and the remnants of the White Fang that will rise up against… Ahem, have the firing rooms in Mantle been emptied of Mantle's revolutionaries yet? Revolutionaries who had so hoped for the patronage of their idol, Jonathan Goodman, the good King of Glenn.

Jonathan felt a complex multi-composed emotion of regret, annoyance, anger, understanding, and a host of other things that he could not in any meaningful way explain. The only thing Jonathan could unequivocally say about this emotion was that this emotion was unpleasant to him.

What did you expect, Jonathan? Politics is a very unpleasant thing, especially when personal and business start to mix. Emotions are complex, as are political moves, philosophical views and many other things.

Maybe, is that what Ozpin was trying to achieve? Perhaps that's what his plan was?

To do what? To confuse you? Or… Make you look at yourself in the mirror? Show you through Ghira what you'd become?

Jonathan closed his eyes for a moment.

Or maybe that was Ozpin's trap, to confuse you and while you're distracted, just for a few days, reach out to Ghira, and snatch Menagerie from your hands while you're busy trying to determine where you are now? Or do you think the thousand-year-old defender of Remnant, who is willing to sacrifice millions of people, is incapable of such a small stratagem, would not dare to strike at his opponent's weak spot? If that opponent has betrayed and killed his allies before, what makes you think Ozpin will stop before he hits you where it hurts?

Jonathan glanced at the now panicking Ghira, taking a step towards him unconsciously, then, noticing the way Ghira's own pupils were scrutinizing his movements, involuntarily took a step back, then took control of his breathing.

No, not now. A little later.

Jonathan turned away from Ghira to the small refreshment table. The gala dinner was to take place a little later, but until then the guests were offered slices, canapés, glasses of champagne, the usual petty 'refreshments' for when the guests arrived early and for socializing among themselves.

After all, no one came to the birthday party of the wife of the head of state to celebrate her birthday in earnest.

Jonathan carefully lifted one of the offered champagne glasses, and tilted its contents to his mouth before taking a sip, trying to wash the nasty feeling off of his tongue. Inwardly, Jonathan was saddened that the only alcohol provided was champagne. In order to wash away the taste of… Something in his mouth. He needed something heavier than champagne.

However, at a formal event, which this meeting was, one was not supposed to get 'drunk', the alcohol provided was simply to act as social lubricant. So, after emptying the glass at a speed he was not supposed to, Jonathan took another to sip, moving a little to the throng of guests and started greeting them. Mostly with idle talk about the weather and delighted greetings from all sides.

Though there may have been a few sincere ones lurking among those.

Opportunists, every one of them. Some are even traitors, already somewhat openly supporting Jonathan's rule over Menagerie, even when its current leader was not a few steps away. Wag a finger at them, tell them you now rule Menagerie, and they will come running, shouting over each other in an attempt to show their loyalty and devotion to the new administration. Ghira was able to build a reputation among the people, but he could never find the right approach to the elites.

Another glass of champagne drained, and another located, and a joke about how the weather is making him thirsty to diffuse any comment about alcoholism.

How could he? The elites require a more pragmatic approach. A little more favorable legislation here, a little more public finance diverted there, one or two journalists silenced – that's how the elites' loyalty is bought, not through inspirational speeches. But Ghira never could figure it out, or even if he did, never found the stomach for it. Ever the idealist and 'hero' of the common people, Ghira never understood how to play the game.

Not like us, Jonathan. We know that sometimes deals while ignoring one's conscience are made for the greater good.

Jonathan spent several dozen minutes in similar idle conversations, about the weather, children, and the prospects for Menagerie's economy and further economic integration with Glenn. But none of these conversations carried anything meaningful… Just as Jonathan's thoughts about Ghira and the actions ahead never fully receded from his mind.

Run, Jonathan, run. You can't run away from me. Neither can you run away from yourself. Nor from the choices that lie ahead…