"Be bolder, bunny. Poke her in the chin with the mic."
The green-haired student with an equally green bunny tail obediently did what the Ethics teacher told him. Another one decided, for a laugh, to bring the camera lens right up to her face, while a third started interrupting with a stream of incoherent and meaningless questions.
However, this didn't stop Pyrrha Nikos from answering the interview with icy calm and a slight smile. The rest of the students could only envy the champion's truly boundless patience and mentally prepare themselves for the moment when the "film crew" came up to them.
Even though the class was called Ethics, they covered more than just moral compasses. Behavior on camera, the ability to maintain posture and speech even in terrible situations, as well as finding the right words of comfort for parents who had lost a child. In this class, they were also taught how to stand out from the crowd. They were told about different clothing styles, how to speak properly, and all that stuff.
All this was combined in this multidisciplinary class.
After all, a true Huntsman shouldn't just be strong and educated, but quite communicative too. Huntsmen are primarily a pretty picture, behind which people can't see the Grimm-ravaged villages and crowds of refugees pouring into the kingdoms. The image of a fearless hero who will without hesitation shield the innocent simultaneously from the jaws of a monster and the painful realization that humanity controls barely one percent of Remnant's total surface. A smokescreen hiding a complete apocalypse.
This wasn't Egrer's own opinion, but his adoptive father's. However, it was only during Ethics classes that the former thief often recalled such a cynical view of the Huntsman profession. Remembered it, and found himself leaning towards it more and more.
Ethics didn't provide any practical knowledge or combat skills, only the ability to expertly feed people lies and smile, no matter what happened. Egrer had never gotten good grades in this subject; he couldn't even manage to lie in the format of this little game, where some pretend to be annoying journalists, while others are Huntsmen whose goal is to tell about a massacre as gently as possible.
And this wasn't even the most important part of their profession; the number one priority was not letting people doubt the omnipotence of Huntsmen. No one must doubt them, because doubts would lead to panic, panic to fear, and fear would attract even more Grimm.
So it turned out to be a catch-22. You have to hide a lot of horrific events from people just so there simply wouldn't be more of those exact same events. That was precisely one of their most important tasks—a preemptive strike against the enemy. Calming people down even before they panic.
And with each subsequent lesson, Egrer realized more and more that the image of Huntsmen was idealized to the core. With each lecture, he better understood what tricks you had to resort to and how you had to manipulate your face. And while he might not be able to use these skills in practice, it'll definitely be harder to fool him now.
Certain news reports he'd seen previously involuntarily surfaced in his mind. Now, armed with new knowledge, it was easy for him to tell a lie from the truth, an evasion from a statement of facts.
But the biggest lie wasn't about downplaying the Grimm threat, it was the incredibly hyperbolic vision of Huntsmen. On TV, they're always fearless heroes ready to lay down their lives for the common folk. Selfless, brave, and smart altruists who'll dedicate themselves to serving the world without an ounce of regret.
Sure, many at Beacon really were like that. After all, if someone wanted fame and glory, they could go into show business instead of risking their life for strangers. You can earn a fortune in a hundred less dangerous ways, too.
Therefore, there were quite a lot of altruists in this profession.
But even so, Huntsmen were nothing like the media painted them to be. Egrer easily saw that in the students around him. Some just wanted to see the world like Ren and Nora, some were running from their destiny like Weiss and Blake, not to mention Egrer himself and his pack, who were only here for the license. Once they graduate, it's highly unlikely they'll instantly become typical heroes. They'll be driven by the exact same selfish goals as they are now. Also shouldn't forget that Torchwick graduated from Beacon too, and is he exactly a great hero right now?
There was something simultaneously repulsive and mesmerizing about it. Today, Huntsmen dedicate more and more time to working with mass media, and less to direct confrontation with the Grimm. I mean, what's the point? Grimm can't be defeated with brute force, they're literally everywhere and anywhere. Underground, in the water, in the air, in the mountains. And there's many millions of times more of them than all humans and Faunus combined.
However, it all resembled a soap bubble. An incredibly swollen soap bubble. Its sheer size is impressive, and an ordinary person would never believe that upon pricking it with a simple twig, it would leave nothing behind.
Neither Grimm Studies nor History was quite as terrifying as Ethics classes. Only while sitting in this bright auditorium with its funny pink wallpaper could you realize that civilization has been hanging over a precipice for its entire existence. And after graduation, they'll have to make the rest of the world believe that Grimm are nothing more than stupid, bloodthirsty animals that any Huntsman can deal with practically with a snap of their fingers.
Truth be told, Egrer was the only one who saw these lessons this way. When he shared his thoughts with his friends, they just laughed at him and called him an alarmist.
Maybe he really was overdramatizing. Or maybe he was just influenced by his dad's opinion, who'd always hated Huntsmen.
"…Therefore, there is absolutely no reason for concern," Pyrrha concluded with a mechanical smile.
"Cle-e-ver girl." The teacher clapped his hands, and the room was filled with the jingling of the dozen bracelets on his wrists. The light reflected off his sky-blue painted nails, scattering across the auditorium like little blue sunbeams. "Take notes from her, children. Let us briefly review all aspects of her speech, as well as her body language. She is, and I am not afraid to use this word, the true epitome of a Huntress!"
Illmond's grinding teeth were distinctly audible.
Honestly, Egrer was getting sick of it. The second Pyrrha received even the slightest praise from the teachers, Illmond immediately started puffing angrily, clenching his fists, and drilling angry glares into her back. But at the same time, he did absolutely nothing to change anything. Just literally nothing at all.
Magenta had recently tried to resolve the situation, but her "Just go talk to her" hit a brick wall of a complete lack of authority on her part. Their brave leader was politely told to go count dust motes.
Even Yort tried to do something, but his "Just go and clock her" met with Illmond's typical laziness and apathy. He merely feebly objected that it was pointless, since she'd win anyway.
"Very well, we still have ten minutes until the bell," the teacher said, finishing writing out beautiful, sprawling letters on the chalkboard. "Who else wishes to try their hand at this little game?"
"Ill, go for it." Egrer tugged at his sleeve. He himself didn't know what drove him to this step, but he understood one thing—he just couldn't watch this embarrassment any longer.
"I'm not taking part in this bullshit."
"Oh, c'mon. Quit drilling Pyrrha with that look, get up and show her how it's done. Just start doing something yourself already."
"I thought we'd already talked about this," Illmond reminded him. "Stay out of my problems, I'll sort them out myself. You promised."
"What, absolutely no one?" the Ethics teacher asked.
"In case you forgot, I promised that on the condition that you start dealing with your problems yourselves. And I ain't seeing any progress from you." Egrer raised his hand, attracting the teacher's attention. "Professor Belluomo, Illmond would like to try."
"Mar-vel-ous! Focus group, Mr. Kitse is your next victim. Do try to get under his skin!"
"You absolute scumbag..."
"Sorry, Ill, but you gotta get over your complexes."
"I don't have any complexes!" This outburst was interrupted by the film crew, which surrounded him from all sides, brazenly shoving Egrer aside.
"Mr. Kitse, what can you say about the Grimm invasion on the eastern borders of Vale's zone of influence?" the green-haired freshman jabbed a fuzzy microphone into Illmond's chin.
That was their role—to annoy the interviewee as much as possible. Illmond had to start answering, just so they'd leave him alone sooner.
"I can say everything is fine."
"Mr. Kitse, are there any civilian casualties?"
"Nope."
"What about among the military? We have precise data indicating the eastern border was breached by a massive pack of Boarbatusks!"
"Nope."
"Has the Huntsman Association taken measures yet? What are the odds the Grimm will reach Vale? Any comments on the ongoing events?"
"Yes. Ask Yort. Everything is fine."
The teacher clapped his hands. But not because he was impressed; to attract attention. The jingling of a dozen bracelets forced everyone to quiet down.
"Mr. Kitse, have you not been listening to my lectures at all? Such coarse answers will only sow panic among the populace. Not to mention the smile!" The professor walked up to Illmond and grabbed his face. With his thumbs, the teacher stretched the corners of his lips into a smile, then tweaked his eyebrows, and, pleased with himself, stepped back. "That is much bet-ter!"
A face perpetually exhausted from chronic sleep deprivation looked... even somehow attractive. Professor Belluomo had squeezed the absolute maximum out of Illmond's facial muscles, and now he no longer looked like a barely living plague victim.
"And now I will ask you to continue the interview, but maintaining this expression."
Illmond honestly tried, but the moment he opened his mouth, all the professor's magic instantly vanished. Looking back at them was that same withered face with two massive bags under the eyes.
"No, this simply will not do," the teacher grumbled. "I will ask you to stay behind after class, Mr. Kitse. You need supplementary lessons."
An envious feminine clamor rippled through the room, but it was interrupted by the bell for recess.
"And yes, I want to remind you of something, my sweetings." The teacher clapped his hands. "This evening marks the beginning of the ball. It is not too late to turn to the dance club for a master class. And, as its supervisor, I can personally teach you everything you need."
At the end, Professor Belluomo winked, causing the female half of the auditorium to squeal in delight. Even a few guys weren't left out.
"Let's book it outta this faggot hotbed," Yort said, tossing his textbook into his bag.
"Oh, c'mon," Egrer waved a hand. "Just 'cause the prof paints his nails and wears perfume and makeup, doesn't mean he's gay. We live in a progressive society, after all."
"Fuck that society, let's bail."
"Yort!" Magenta shouted. "You'll answer to me for that dirty mouth of yours! Professor Belluomo teaches the material very well and makes it interesting, by the way."
They exited the auditorium along with the rest of the class, leaving Illmond to the mercy of the Ethics teacher. The abandoned hikki watched them go with a resentful glare.
That was the last class for today, so all of Beacon began preparing for the upcoming ball. There were only a couple of hours to get dolled up, during which they also had to manage rehearsing the recently finished song. Egrer had stayed up all night trying to meet the deadline.
He hadn't been able to sit still all day. Since early morning, his hands had been shaking with anticipation, and butterflies fluttered in his stomach. Today he would announce himself to all of Beacon right from the stage. And from there, it's just a short step to bringing back the music club, after which he'll be living life to the fullest!
The Ethics teacher didn't string Illmond along for too long, and he soon reunited with the rest of the pack.
"Alright, final rehearsal," Egrer said, fruitlessly trying to quell the trembling in his knees. "While the ballroom is empty, we need to solidify the material."
The rest of the pack wasn't as anxious, but the impending public performance in front of the entire academy couldn't leave them indifferent. Especially the socially anxious Illmond, whom a joyful Magenta didn't leave for a single step. What if he bolts? That'd be just like him.
The instruments had been moved to the ballroom's utility closet in advance, so all they had to do was get there. But halfway there they were met by Yang. The pack tried to walk around her, but she just took a step forward to block them. They stood and stared at each other for a few seconds.
"Hi?" Egrer uttered.
"Let's step aside. Need to talk."
"Um... just make it quick, we're still prepping for the ball." He just nodded, rifling through his head for reasons someone might hold a grudge against him. Egrer hoped she wasn't planning on burying him in a deserted place. "You guys go ahead, I'll catch up."
Yang waited until the others had walked a fair distance away.
"I noticed you're a bad influence on my team. First it was Weiss, now Blake. I'm not accusing you of anything, just so you know." She added this when the idea of fleeing became too clearly etched onto Egrer's face. "It's just that Weiss started having 'Flare-ups' exactly after the two of you disappeared somewhere. Y'know, for a while I even thought you were whispering something against us to her in there."
Technically, that's exactly how it was. In the Order of the Backstabbers, that was the main reason they gathered together—to complain about life and assure each other that they were the best possible candidates for the leader badge.
"And now the exact same thing is starting with Blake," Yang continued. "But this time I'm not just gonna watch my team fall apart while Ruby cries from helplessness. I'm taking a preemptive strike. And you're gonna tell me everything right now."
"Tell you what?" Egrer looked around, nervously tugging at his shirt collar. "I already told Ruby everything myself."
"You mean about Blake wanting to figure out the White Fang's motives? I doubt that's the only reason she's jumping at every shadow here at Beacon. You might not know how to lie, but you could easily leave something out."
"Swear on my mom, I told her everything I knew back then." At that time he really had told Ruby about their adventure without hiding anything. It was only later they found out The Puppeteer was planning to get into Beacon and that they needed to maintain the strictest secrecy.
"I'm not so sure about that." Yang took a threatening step forward, forcing Egrer to back up against the wall.
To tell someone that a dangerous criminal had infiltrated the academy meant jeopardizing the very fact that they possessed this knowledge. And that was their main trump card. As long as The Puppeteer believed Herself to be two steps ahead and didn't see them as a threat to Her own exposure, they could do a lot. And most importantly—they could count on the fact that She wouldn't touch them for now.
"And what're you gonna do to me?" Egrer challenged. "Beat me up?"
"No." Yang sighed. Obviously, knowing his cowardice, she just wanted to scare him. But he had long since changed. "I'm just going to ask you to talk to her. Blake is wearing herself out too much, tell her to relax at least for the dance. And ideally, it'd be great if she started trusting us. Cause y'know, it's a bit weird that she prefers you guys over her own team for dangerous ops. I mean, a half-naked foreigner she barely knows and a guy who's literally allergic to her, who she actually despised and disliked until recently."
Well, looking at it from that perspective, yeah, it really was very weird.
"We're trying to convince her to slow down ourselves," Egrer shook his head. "But I'm afraid in terms of stubbornness she'll outlap even Weiss."
"Where's your boasted 'Extensive experience in dealing with difficult people'?"
"Hey, I'm not a magical wizard, I can't do everything. But I'll try!" He quickly added when Yang clenched her fists. "But I can't guarantee results. Why don't you approach her yourself?"
"That's exactly what I did first." Yang huffed, as if it were obvious. "Caught her in the hall, dragged her into an empty classroom, and~"
"You know, I really wanna crack a dirty joke in your style here, but I'll refrain."
"Refrain from interrupting, or I'll smack you." She threatened without a hint of jest. It seemed Egrer was unlucky enough to catch Yang in a very foul mood. The last time she was this serious was when Blake ran away from Beacon following the disastrous girls' night out. "Anyway, I dragged her into an empty classroom and started pouring my heart out, and she didn't care. All she wants is the White Fang and Torchwick, and that's it. I tried to reach her through Sun, but he's turning a blind eye to it. Well sure, since she's not ignoring him!"
"I'll try to convince her to take a breather. But I repeat, I'm not promising anything! Alright, I gotta run, my team's been waiting."
Egrer sidled along the wall unimpeded and bolted at full speed into the ballroom. Rehearsal first, everything else second! Blake isn't going anywhere. Probably...
"What took ya so long?" asked Yort, who was already almost finished setting up the drum kit on the stage.
"Did you guys connect the mics to the speakers?" Egrer brazenly ignored his question. The pack nodded in agreement. "Super. Everything should be exactly like we're playing to a live crowd right now. So picture a throng of listeners in front of you."
"I don't want a crowd," Illmond whined. "Can you guys just do this without me somehow?"
"You're an irreplaceable member of our music gang! Without a bass guitar, no rock band can be considered complete."
"Says the slicked-back preppy boy in a jacket," Yort said grumpily. "With looks like that, you shouldn't be singing rock, you should be doing Mistralian K-pop."
"Rock is primarily about substance, and only secondarily about looks," Egrer replied condescendingly. "Rock is freedom, I wear whatever clothes I want."
"Oh, listen to him sing."
"But away with philosophy!" Egrer ran a pick across the strings of the electric guitar. For this song, he had to temporarily set aside his trusty acoustic and buy a new, more modern instrument. He hoped Baby wouldn't take offense at this betrayal. "The time has come for the final rehearsal! And a one, a two, a one-two-three-four!"
***
Egrer tossed his Scroll into the air and caught it in his hand without looking. After which he tossed it again, and caught it again.
He had no idea where to look for Blake for a private chat, seeing as she could hide anywhere. And just wandering around the academy hoping to randomly bump into her could take an eternity. So Egrer simply decided to assemble their little anti-Puppeteer crew by texting everyone. Sun agreed to help in his thankless task as well, though it was obvious he just wanted to ask Blake to the dance.
All that remained was to wait for them.
Involuntarily, Egrer pondered: was it really true that he caused nothing but trouble for Team RWBY? Would they be better off without him? He hadn't expected such vulnerability from himself, but Yang's words had stung quite painfully. And why wouldn't they, seeing as he always considered himself the most friendly and open personality in the world, and here he was being bluntly told that he was a malicious menace...
But he chased those thoughts away. Egrer was absolutely certain that Weiss would've found a thousand and one reasons to wage war with Ruby over the leader badge even without him. Blake would've started picking fights on her own too, launching a hunt for The Puppeteer even without helpers.
He was just unlucky enough to be nearby. And that was his entire fault.
"Is it something important?" Blake asked, walking soundlessly into the classroom.
Egrer hadn't noticed these habits in her before, but now he saw ever more clearly just how tense she was. Walking quietly, glancing around imperceptibly, ears twitching every so often under her bow.
Sun walked in after her.
"Listen, Blake," Egrer started. "Are you gonna go to the dance?"
"No. It's simply the ideal moment for a crime, all of Beacon along with the teachers will be in one place. So when else, if not now, will The Puppeteer reveal Herself? I'm almost positive something is going to happen today. Did you want to discuss this possibility?"
"Kinda." Egrer nodded, after which he asked coaxingly, "So you'll be keeping an eye on everyone right at the ball?"
Sun instantly caught on to what he was getting at, and decided to play along.
"Awesome idea! We'll hide in plain sight and seek out any weirdos."
"Something will happen, but not right at the dance; somewhere else." Blake shook her head. "I doubt She'll execute Her plan right in front of the entire Huntsman Academy."
"Ah, exactly!" Sun nodded vigorously. "She'll be doing her shady stuff... then everyone who doesn't show up, we immediately mark as a suspect!"
Blake found a counterargument for that point too. She'd already hammered a certain pattern of actions into her head and wasn't going to just give it up.
How could he channel her energy in the right direction? If she didn't end up at the dance, Egrer would get a smack on the head from Yang. He could put on a brave face all he wanted, but he absolutely did not want to fall from her good graces.
"Or maybe She planned a terrorist attack?" Egrer theorized. "That's why she stole so much Dust, to just blow everyone up in one spot. I doubt Aura is gonna help much when that amount of Dust explodes."
Blake fell into thought. She clearly accepted this theory as entirely possible, judging by her darting eyes.
"In that case, we urgently need to crash the ball."
A heavy silence hung in the air.
"Alright... now let's go over that one more time..." Egrer uttered, theatrically digging his pinky in his ear. "Crash it, you say? Do you even realize how much effort the others and I wasted prepping for it?! It's basically the main event of the entire Vytal Festival!"
"And none of that will matter when She pushes the detonator."
"Who in their right mind would even want to wipe out the future generation of Huntsmen?! Turn your brain on, no one benefits from that! We're the future shield of humanity, and all these criminals are a part of it too."
"You're the one who suggested the idea, and now you're telling me it's total nonsense," Blake noted. "You're contradicting yourself."
"Uhhh..." Egrer scratched the back of his head. "I just realized it was an idiotic thought right after I said it."
"Yeah, stupid thought," Sun chimed in. "We just gotta hang out at the ball and note all the absentees. Nobody's gonna blow anything up."
"I don't think so, the probability of such an outcome isn't zero. Either way, it's worth preparing for the worst, and this specific scenario is the worst."
"Don't go to extremes," Egrer grumbled, adding sarcastically, "Let's assume then that The Puppeteer is the earthly incarnation of the Dark God and that She wants to destroy humanity. Nah, why stop there?"
"You're the one falling into extremes now." Blake raised her voice and took a step forward, breaching the "Safe Zone". Egrer's nose immediately started itching, but he didn't back down.
"I'm not crashing the ball and that's final. And I won't let you either. If I have to, I'll organize a people's militia and the whole union will stop you. Achoo!"
"Hey, let's tone down the heat." Sun made an unsuccessful attempt to reconcile them, stepping between the two. The arguers simply took a synchronized step to the side to continue boring into each other with angry glares.
"So, you're willing to take responsibility for hundreds of lost lives?"
"There will be soldiers there, Blake. Soldiers from the most disciplined and militarized state in the world. I'm more than cer—ACHOO! Certain that we don't really need to crash the ball, but keeping an eye on its attendees is worth doing."
Junior's Scroll rang at the wrong time. Egrer didn't turn on the video feed and limited it to audio only. He pressed the Scroll to his ear and took a couple of steps away from Blake, just so she wouldn't hear anything.
"Yeah?"
"Tonight's gonna be a chance to see this Puppeteer of yours. Stupid name, by the way, let's change it."
"To see?!" Blake exclaimed, snatching the Scroll right out of his hands.
"Achoo! Grimm-damned cat hearing," Egrer grumbled, quickly pulling on a medical mask. Realistically, he should have stepped further away altogether, but he was also curious to hear what Junior had dug up. "Achoo!"
"But that ain't guaranteed," Hei said uncertainly. "The only thing I can say for certain is that Torchwick is waiting for someone. Maybe Her, or maybe someone else. But I doubt he'd be this on edge over some minor meeting."
"Do you know his exact location?"
"Yeah, a good acquaintance of mine spotted him. He's at a warehouse in the industrial zone, thirty-five Metallurgists Street."
"Is that all?"
"Yeah. Oh, no wait," Junior quickly added, "Eg, you there? The Twins asked you to send 'em a couple of vids from your ball."
"Alright..."
"That's all for now, good luck."
From Blake's expression, it was instantly clear that she was going on the mission. Kiss all efforts to drag her to the ball goodbye.
"I'm going with you," Sun said. "I wanted to go to the dance with you anyway, so what's the point of me even showing up to the ball without you?"
"Don't embarrass me," Blake mumbled, heading for the exit. "I'll wait for you at the landing pads. Grab some extra cash, we're spending the night in Vale again tonight. Eg, are you coming?"
"No. I'll stay for the party."
And the two of them left, leaving Egrer all alone with himself.
Well, whatever. Everything would start soon, so it was about time to dress up in his finest.
***
Egrer still couldn't get over his own brilliance for thinking to pawn off all the expenses onto Magenta. Or rather, onto her rich parents. Thanks to extensive cash injections, the whole pack was able to afford the best outfits in the best fashion boutiques, denying themselves no desires whatsoever. Mr. and Mrs. Toti were more than happy to treat their daughter and her friends to such a gift for the party, especially since to them, that amount of money was practically pennies.
The long-ago established Pack Fund remained untouched, and it would continue to serve as a financial buffer. Much to Egrer's utmost delight.
In a decent suit, even Yort began to look much more presentable, greatly aided by a stiff comb and a red bowtie. Now it wasn't embarrassing to step out in public with him.
Magenta, on the other hand, acted as barbarically as possible, smearing paints all over a beautiful, virginally white dress. According to her, it was so it would match her hair. She styled her hair into an intricate updo, the kind noble ladies favored a couple of centuries ago.
Illmond outright refused to buy himself a suit, preferring his old, closed-up coat with a hood. To the logical objection of "How are you gonna dance in that?" came the no less logical answer of "Are you a moron?". Obviously, the titan of solitude would remain loyal to the 2D world to the grave. Asking about it really had been stupid.
Egrer, however, didn't deny himself the pleasure of buying one of the most expensive suits on the rack. White, with a beautiful branching gold pattern—a dream for any fashionista. It came with equally splendid trousers and shoes to match.
Admittedly, Yort's snide remark that the only things missing for a complete Torchwick cosplay were a hat and some eyeliner slightly soured his enjoyment of the purchase.
"Ill, are you even going to the dance?" Egrer asked, adjusting his jacket in front of the mirror. "Don't see you getting ready."
"Only coming for our song," he replied sluggishly, staring out the window.
"You can't do that!" declared Magenta, having finished her barbaric act of destroying everything beautiful. The paintbrushes flew towards her bed, smearing paint all over her bedding too. "You have to go with us, at least to keep us company."
"Nah, I'll just get in the way. You guys will have plenty of fun without me."
"How can we have fun when your friend is sitting by the window and looking at the ballroom with envy?"
Illmond immediately pulled away from the window. However, he quickly found a retort.
"You can't even see the ballroom from here, actually, it's on the other side of the dorm. And there is no envy in my gaze, it's just that events like this aren't for me. I like peace and quiet, and there's nothing like that at a dance."
"Eg, I give up!" Magenta exclaimed. "How do you do it? Why does everyone listen to you?"
If Egrer could articulate his thoughts on this matter somewhat coherently, he would have written a book and gotten rich a long time ago. But as it was, he could label his ability as nothing other than a "Supernatural Preminition". He just had a knack for getting along with everyone. He just knew what to say and what topics were best avoided. As far back as he could remember, he was always able to do this.
Maybe it's some sort of Semblance? Then it's pretty wack...
"Just leave the stringbean the fuck alone," grumbled Yort, tugging at the red bowtie on his neck. "Let him do whatever the hell he wants, what difference does it make to you?"
"I don't want him to do what he wants, I want him to step past his complexes and cure himself of his eternal melancholy!"
"I don't have any complexes," Illmond sleepily waved her off. "Or melancholy."
He was digging his heels in like he never had before. Egrer sighed; apparently, they really couldn't do without his supernatural intervention.
"You guys go ahead, we'll catch up."
"We're counting on you!" Magenta exclaimed before Yort pushed her out into the hallway.
Illmond turned back to the window, trying to pretend he was here alone. Egrer continued to stand at the mirror and adjust his jacket. This silence lasted exactly long enough for Egrer to realize that you can look out a window without looking stupid for practically an eternity, but primping in front of a mirror, you can't.
"Well... so you're not going to the dance?"
"I've said 'No' a hundred times, and I'll say it for the hundred and first time. No."
"Ill, you can't sit in your shell forever. You gotta meet new~"
"And how do you envision that? I just sit down next to someone and say 'Cool ball, dude'?"
"Great start!" Egrer gave a thumbs-up. "If you can keep the conversation going too, then it's totally sick!"
"Your sarcasm is uncalled for."
"I'm serious, actually. Even just basically sitting next to someone you don't know is a huge step in overcoming your social anxiety. Y'know what Jaune's mom used to say? Strangers are just friends you haven't met yet. A very wise woman, I believe."
"I thought we'd already talked about this," Illmond reminded him again, directing a scowling glare at him from under his brow. Egrer sighed heavily, deciding to remind him of something too.
"And you promised to start doing something on your own. But since that conversation you haven't taken a single step. Ill, do you think it's really that unnoticeable? Do you think we don't see how you, for example, look at Pyrrha when she wins in the arena or gets a perfect grade? Or when other people are having fun somewhere nearby? You've got 'How dare these freaks be happy when my depression hasn't lifted for three years' written all over your face. But all you can muster is just clenched fists and gritted teeth."
"I think that those are my problems. Mine alone. I'll sort them out myself."
"Then I will gladly listen to how you're going to do that." Egrer sat next to him and rested his head on his clasped hands. "Well? Why the silence?"
"Leave me alone," Illmond muttered, wrapping himself up in his blanket.
It was always like this. He never took action; he only hid as far from his problems as possible, as if they didn't exist. Enduring and keeping it all inside. Waiting for some moment he would never see. He couldn't grasp that he had to take matters into his own hands already.
And yet, sometimes, through his apathy and laziness, something... something shone through.
Something entirely uncharacteristic of the present Illmond, but commonplace for the old one, whom Egrer hadn't managed to meet. Those traits were with him before he decided to jump off the bridge, and before he lost to Pyrrha at the tournament. And those traits had made up a major part of his life.
Ambition and purposefulness.
Sometimes Illmond surrenders to his hobby with total dedication, coming alive for a while. For instance, when he's hit with inspiration for his artwork, or when he's helping Jaune win Weiss over. In those times he's a completely different person, much braver and more energetic, albeit still just as detached and indifferent to the surrounding world.
But these flashes are rare and don't last long. After a while, Illmond sharply loses all his drive. As if he suddenly remembers all his complexes.
"Do you have any idea what it's like, watching yourself get surpassed in almost everything, no matter what you do?" he grumbled quietly through the blanket. "And you and your efforts aren't even noticed. And if they are noticed, they'll say 'Oh, right, that's the guy who's second best'. Is it even worth it? To do something, to strive for something, to try... A waste of energy; I'd rather just sit on my Scroll."
"I understand, although in a slightly different vein."
"Oh, really?" Illmond even stuck his head out of his cocoon.
"You think it was easy living and growing up around someone like Roman? He's a difficult person in his own right, and on top of that, he demanded that I meet his standards. I disappointed him almost every day. And you know what I did in the end? I just stopped giving a shit about his opinion. Let him want whatever he wants, I don't care. I went my own way and I don't regret it one bit."
Only now did Egrer realize how much he actually resembled Illmond. That was probably why they became friends; they saw kindred spirits in each other. The only difference was that Illmond broke under the pressure of others' expectations, couldn't handle the strain. He still cares about the opinions of those around him, but now he doesn't even try to meet them, preferring to accept the stigma of a lazy loser.
Because what's the point, if nothing's gonna work out anyway? Only the very best shine, and there's no way he can overtake Pyrrha.
"Eg, was it hard to commit to that? To running away?"
"Very. But now I'm free from others' expectations and I can shape my life however I want. Roman can't tell me what to do anymore. No one can tell me what to do anymore. Why don't you do the exact same thing?"
"I can't. I'm not like you. And who am I supposed to run away from anyway, myself?" However, Illmond didn't see their striking similarities at all; he always contrasted himself with Egrer. A lonely introvert and an outgoing extrovert—how could there be anything in common between them?
But in reality, the difference between them lay in just one fateful decision.
"Have you tried?" Silence in response. "I get it, because nothing will work out. That's what you think, and if you keep thinking that way, then that's how it'll be."
"Since when did you become an info-hustler?" Illmond snorted. "Just don't start giving me some coaching session on believing in yourself and other nonsense. Listening to you, it's like you can achieve anything with a snap of your fingers."
"Of course it's not that simple. Stepping over yourself is always a great feat; it really isn't something everyone can do. Changing your usual way of life is almost impossible for most, even if it looks easy from the outside." Egrer scratched his cheek thoughtfully. "Take Weiss and Blake, for example. If you only knew how hard it was for them to reconsider their views on each other, and what a drama they made out of it. But they did it. Why couldn't you?"
"I'm too lazy. I don't want to. I'm fine with how things are."
"Well, the first two points can be managed, but the third one... are you really happy with this life? Constantly looking back at others, driving yourself even deeper into depression, and not even trying to change anything? Honestly now."
"Leave me alone," Illmond repeated again. "I. Will. Handle it. Myself. Why is it so important to you to get inside my head anyway?"
"Because you're my friend, and I want to help you. You obviously have self-esteem issues, plus this perfectionism, maximalism, and fatalism of yours... to put it mildly, this cocktail won't lead you to any good."
"How many times do I have to say it: I'm not planning on ending my life again. I'm not that desperate."
"That's not what this is about. It's just that you seem to live from one flash of inspiration to the next, and between them you act like a vegetable. No aspirations, no desires, you barely even have emotions."
"You wanna mold me to fit your standards?"
"I want you to be happy. Go to the dance."
Illmond rolled his eyes and grumbled something unintelligible.
"Fine! Anything to get you off my back."
It wasn't a victory, not by a long shot. But Egrer believed that even a small step is better than treading water.
"Then you need suitable clothes! I can lend you one of my jackets."
"I'll make do with the coat, thanks."
***
"Hi, welcome!" Egrer stood at the stand right by the wide doors and greeted everyone walking into the ball. His cheekbones were already starting to ache from the never-fading smile on his face. How do Pyrrha and Weiss manage to smile like this for hours?
He didn't quite grasp the point of just standing here and greeting arrivals, but since it had been done this way all the previous times, it was worth paying respects to tradition. But on the plus side, he had the chance to become a familiar face to his future audience. They'll mentally note him for at least this evening, and when he steps onto the stage they'll immediately think, "Oh, so not only did he organize the ball, he wrote a song too! What a multifaceted and profound individual!"
With each passing minute, more and more people arrived. At one point Egrer was even scared they'd run out of room inside, but glancing back, he put his fears to rest. For the ballroom to run out of room, a whole mob of refugees with their belongings would have to show up. Only then would it get a bit cramped in here.
"Hi... " Egrer caught himself; playing a broken record wouldn't cut it here. "Hello, welcome!"
Seeing the teachers in festive attire was... weird. As if some ancient law of the universe had been broken, a fundamental rule of nature itself that forbids the strict Goodwitch from wearing casual and brightly colored dresses. And she was smiling, too.
How terrifying... why is the moon still hanging in its place? With such violations of the laws of physics, it should've crashed down onto Remnant a long time ago.
Even General Ironwood in person walked past the makeshift checkpoint, having brought an army with him.
It was unclear what these soldiers were doing here. They surrounded the building as if they were planning to take it by storm, and personally, Egrer found it hard to believe they were here for security. Well, either that, or their egos were inflated to the point of absurdity, if they thought Huntsmen needed any kind of protection.
After all, what is the point of guarding the gathering place of all of Beacon's teachers and their students? Guarding the Aura-gifted, who could level this entire army with a single synchronized sneeze? The soldiers were the ones who needed protection, not them.
"Hi, welcome!"
Standing here was a bit boring, especially when your friends were already partying hard. And doubly especially when Magenta was almost certainly already cooking up something crazy. All he could do was hope their brave leader had gotten serious enough during her time at Beacon not to pull any crazy stunts.
But another problem worried Egrer far more. Neither Jaune nor Weiss had arrived yet. The main influx of attendees had passed a long time ago, but it was as if they had forgotten about the party. Soon Egrer would leave his post and join the partygoers; he shouldn't have to stand here until the end of the evening.
Coupled with all the other sources of anxiety, it was very surprising why he hadn't dropped to the floor with a heart attack by now.
"Hi, welcome. Was just thinking about you."
"Good things, I hope?"
To be honest, Egrer expected from Weiss a dress made of pure gold, if not that, then something close. But she decided to content herself with a more modest option, and put on a simple white dress with light-blue accents. She couldn't not realize that instead of glitter and gloss, Huntsmen value simplicity and reliability, and so she definitely took this step intentionally. Had she shown up with fanfare in lavish clothes, she simply wouldn't have been understood and would've been dubbed a show-off.
Or maybe everything was much simpler, and she just wanted to forget she was a Schnee this evening, in order to hang out on equal footing with the rest. Not as the SDC heiress, but as a simple girl and future Huntress.
Yes. Most likely the latter.
"Calm down and relax your face," Weiss said, brushing a couple of dust motes off Egrer's jacket. "You will only frighten the guests away by greeting them with such an unnatural smile. Not the best start to the festivity, you must agree."
"What are you talking about? I am tranquility itself. Maybe you're the one who's nervous? I'm certainly not. I mean, what's there to be afraid of? We did an amazing job, everyone will definitely love everything." He immediately faltered under her mocking gaze. "Alright, maybe I'm a little nervous. Mainly because I'll be playing a song for all this crowd today."
"I was waiting, by the way, for when you would approach me for advice."
"My sense of self-worth wouldn't have survived such a humiliation."
"Whatever you say. Well," she waved her hand, "I am off."
Okay—Weiss is in place. All that was left was to wait for Jaune and they could proceed to the final stage of the plan, at the conclusion of which these two will officially become a couple. But he still didn't show up.
"Eg?" Nora's voice suddenly called out from the side. "Your help is needed over there. Very-very-very urgently needed!"
"What happened?" For some reason, he felt uneasy. Her fake voice inspired a supernatural fear.
"No time to explain!" She pushed him away from the counter and dragged him outside. "It's such a di-i-isaster over there! We can't handle it without the General Sec."
Nora dragged Egrer behind the ballroom and pointed her finger at some hole. There were no windows on this side of the building, but even so, happy laughter and some waltz drifted to them.
"And? It's a hole."
"A hole?! It's Mr. Skeleton's grave! Robbed!" Just as Egrer relaxed, Nora suddenly hugged him from behind with her bone-crushing grip.
"What are you doing?! Let go of me now!"
"We couldn't do this." Ren said, stepping out of the shade of a tree. He wore a sad smile, full of regret. "I am sorry, but I cannot let what you've planned happen. Understand, we worry about the well-being of our team. Jaune must go to the dance with Pyrrha. Change your mind, before it's too late."
So that's what was happening. That explained all those weird questions, the "accidental" eavesdropping on conversations, and the rest.
"I didn't expect a stab in the back from you guys," Egrer hissed through clenched teeth. "Especially from you, Ren. I'm sorry too, but I don't want the whole Beacon shipping me with Weiss. I need Jaune."
"Then it's war!" Nora exclaimed with delight. Ren, however, maintained his icy calm.
"As long as Jaune was on his own, we did not doubt that Weiss would reject him. We wanted things to run their course and believed that everything would work itself out. But with your support, he really might be able to win her favor, at least for this evening. Only even so, it will destroy Pyrrha. I am sorry, but I cannot allow this."
Ren nodded to Nora. She immediately shoved a gag into Egrer's mouth and put a bag over his head. Soon his arms and legs were tightly bound, and any resistance was mercilessly crushed by her crushing grip.
'How did things take such a turn!? What for?!' Egrer screamed in his thoughts as he was dragged somewhere. All he could do was curse fate and fruitlessly try to break free from his bonds.