Monday, 27th April, 79AGW.

Malachite’s Dorm, Beacon.

5:39 AM.

Lima sat up in bed, rubbing at his eyes—four weeks since they had first arrived here, and he still wasn’t used to waking up in a room with others.

He slipped out of bed and grabbed his towel on the way to the showers. He spotted his face in the mirror as he passed it and frowned—He would need to cut back on time spent in the emerald forest at night. The dark bags under his eyes were going to get him busted, and the building exhaustion wasn’t exactly subtle either.

The upside was that he was finally starting to get used to living here, and his stress levels were going down as he acclimated to everything. The team was holding strong as well—minor arguments and the occasional snappish remark aside, none of them were perfect after all.

“Lima?” Teak said nervously. “Do you mind—”

“Go for it, buddy,” Lima said easily, not bothered.

The door opened further, and the other boy made his way into one of the shower stalls, keeping several empty ones between them. It was Lux they had to worry about—Teak wasn’t the type to try and peak on someone. Being able to turn invisible and her overly curious nature had placed Claire in the highly suspicious zone—He hadn’t caught her yet, but several times he found her missing when she had previously been ‘asleep.’

“Did you figure out what you wanted to make for Mulberry’s class?” Lima asked curiously, projecting his voice over the top of the stalls.

The Faunus had been scribbling in a notepad for several days now, and he had managed just before bed last night to catch a glimpse of an angular technical sketch.

“Oh!” Teak said excitedly, “I did, it’s a hard light shield projector—”

Lima listened as he explained it in far too much depth for him to fully comprehend, but he got the highlights.

“So it’s a dome that spins? How do you get it to move in the first place?” Lima frowned before gasping. “Wait! I take it back!”

“That’s not funny,” Teak pouted, knowing he was being made fun of.

Lima grinned to himself.

“I don’t know if I can even make it spin yet.” Teak admitted, “For now, I’ll focus on just trying to work out how to make it curve.”

Lima didn’t know how hard-light projectors worked, but he’d seen a bunch of non-flat shapes projected by Velvet’s one. So they were capable of making complex shapes, a single dome shouldn’t be that hard to find a blueprint for.

“There’s a girl in the second year, called Velvet.” Lima said hesitantly, “She has a really complicated hard-light projector—I don’t know if she built it herself, but I’ve seen her project a buckler shield, a staff, and a bunch of different weapons—all of which she could manipulate freely in her hands like real weapons.”

“That’s perfect!” Teak gasped, “Can you introduce me to her, please?”

Lima somehow knew he was going to ask and laughed awkwardly for a moment.

“Ah, she really doesn’t like me, actually,” Lima admitted, turning the water off.

“What did you say to her?” Teak said hesitantly, “Or is she just mean?”

Lima cinched the towel shut and ruffled the water out of his hair—it was getting a bit long, he’d have to cut it again—Teak’s question was a mystery that he hadn’t a clue how to start unraveling.

“Nah, she was really nice, a bit shy maybe? Everything was fine until I told her I was from Argus,” Lima hesitated, “Maybe she just doesn’t like people from Anima?”

“Are you sure you didn’t say something weird?” Teak said worriedly.

Lima certainly wasn’t going to admit that he said he liked her ears.

“Me?” Lima gasped, “Never.”

Monday, 27th April, 79AGW.

Dining Hall, Beacon.

12:01 PM.

“Are you going to tell us about that stupid journal yet?” Lux demanded, “You’ve been lording it over me for weeks!”

Lima snickered as Teak floundered under the evil gaze of their teammate.

“I wasn’t lording it over anyone!” Teak squeaked, “I just hadn’t finished reading it yet—”

“Hadn’t?” Lux said, leaning forward over the table to look down at him, eyes bright with menace.

“You know he can see right down your shirt,” Claire said, amused, “You missed a button too.”

Teak stammered out a mortified denial, but Lux just huffed and sat back down.

“Well?” Lux demanded again.

“I finished it last night,” Teak said flushed, but he grew more animated the more he spoke. “It’s so strange reading from the perspective of someone who lived before all of the things we take for granted now—like airships, the CCTS, and easy intercontinental travel systems….”

Lima tried to imagine how he would have gotten to Beacon if the train system hadn’t been around—or how he would have got to Atlas without an airship if he had chosen to go there instead. He frowned. He would have needed a gunboat of some kind—if they even existed at the time—to keep the larger and ancient water Grimm away during the trip.

“Mandias called himself a ‘researcher,’ as much as one existed back then—but he came off as more of an explorer than anything.” Teak admitted, “His journal mentioned a lot of different things of what I assumed were other projects or investigations he was performing, but it didn’t go into depth on any of those—I guess they had their own journals once upon a time.”

“A busy man, huh?” Claire said curiously.

Teak smiled at her and nodded.

“The journal focuses on his search for two—Objects? Locations?” Teak made a vague hand gesture, “The fountain of life, and the pools of Grimm.”

The three of them recognized the names from the tale of the two brothers—each in the respective brother’s domains and from where they arose when they were sought after.

“Why was he looking for places from a fairy tale?” Lux frowned.

“Religion,” Claire corrected, turning back to Teak. “That’s what you called it the other day—so back then, they thought it was actually real?”

Teak nodded excitedly.

“That’s right, Mandias writes as if they were held in very high esteem by his ‘ancestors’—he never refers to them as if they were a fairy tale, but as if they really did exist.” Teak said happily, enjoying being able to share what he’d learned with them.

“Why was he looking for them?” Lima asked thoughtfully. “To prove the brothers were real?”

Lux looked enraptured in the conversation and shot him an annoyed look at the last comment. Maybe she was a little more into fairy tales than he had first imagined.

“I thought that was what it was at first,” Teak said hesitantly, “But in the journal, there are two references to something—some kind of event… that make me think there was another reason he was looking for them.”

Teak rifled through his book bag and pulled out the journal in question, and flipped it open to about halfway through. He spent a moment searching the impossible to read handwriting—that was the real mystery of it all, how could someone’s handwriting be that incomprehensible, and how on earth could Teak even read the damn thing.

Teak found the section and slowly drew his index finger underneath it.

“The first one, ‘A fools hope perhaps, to believe I might find the answer there, but better a fool than to wait until the world turns no longer.’” Teak said clearly, “The ‘answer’ could be referring to whether or not the brothers existed, but the end part is what I’m talking about.”

“It’s very poetic,” Lux said curiously.

“Mandias falls into a few moments like this throughout his writings,” Teak smiled, “There’s this one passage when he is recalling his youth—‘I often mourn for days long past, for people almost forgotten—where everything was so straightforward and when magic hadn’t yet seeped from the world.’”

“Oh my, that’s so dramatic.” Lux said brightly, “That’s it, I’m reading it—you said you were finished, right?”

Lima rolled his eyes as the two gushed over the sappy line.

“Until the world turns no longer?” Claire spoke up curiously. “It sounds like he means the end of the world?”

“That’s what I thought as well,” Teak said, nodding, “More of his poetic bend, his meaning is that he knows it is foolish to search for something that might not exist, but it’s better to hope than to do nothing at all.”

“It’s better to hope than to do nothing at all,” Lima mumbled. “Not exactly the most practical piece of advice on its own—You should always hope, but you better damn well act to ensure you don’t have to rely on it, though.”

“Eh,” Lux said, smirking, “The poet guy sounds more trustworthy.”

“Excuse me?” Lima said, offended, but he was completely ignored.

“What was the second phrase?” Lux said triumphantly, turning back to Teak.

Teak flipped gently through the journal, finding the second entry after a few moments.

“I stand where a fountain should be, and yet an ocean stretches before me. The cataclysm has changed the land too greatly, and I fear my path here is at its end…” Teak said carefully, “My hope is not yet lost. So long as the world turns, I will search for an answer.”

Lux’s eyes were sparkling—Lima would never have guessed that she was into this kind of thing.

“That’s really sad,” Claire said quietly, drawing his attention. “He spent so long looking for proof and then found nothing—all that time, what a tragic life.”

Teak didn’t seem to agree.

“I don’t think it’s tragic at all—because even at the end of his journey for the fountain, he still hadn’t given up.” Teak said quietly, “He believed strongly enough to spend his life chasing something from a fairy tale—something he wasn’t even sure existed—that’s a level of dedication that I don’t think I can really comprehend.”

Lima nodded in understanding.

“The journey was the fountain all along!” Lima cried out, deliberately mangling the phrase, and got a few winces in return. “That last passage does sound like he was just looking for the next fairy tale to go after—which one do you think he chose, the four maidens?”

Monday, 27th April, 79AGW.

Practical Combat, Beacon.

4:43 PM.

“TEAK!” Lima roared passionately, chasing the other boy across the stage. “You cannot hope to run from me!”

“This totally isn’t fair!” Teak cried in horror, diving to the side to avoid the attack. “Give me back my sword!”

Lima drew himself back up to his full height after the near-miss, the sword held loosely in his hand and stared at the fleeing boy with glee.

“Mr. Morta,” Glynda said strained, “When are you going to start taking these lessons seriously?”

Lima lifted his left hand up in front of him and started to unwrap the bandages that were wound around it, revealing a mess of wires and a spoil of thick cable in a half-enclosed gauntlet. It wasn’t anywhere near ready, but he had managed to get it to fire a few times—he was still working out how to reel it back in, though.

“Teak, I am sorry old friend, I cannot hold back any longer—not with my own life now on the line,” Lima said dramatically, and he could hear as the scroll in Goodwitch’s hand creaked dangerously. “To think you would push me this far, you’ve grown beyond anything I could have imagined… I’ll use my trump card then.”

Teak looked horrified at the idea that he was going to be on the wrong side of his half-finished mess of a weapon.

“You better not!” Teak cried out, “Lima!”

Lima wrapped his finger into the exposed trigger mechanism and wrenched it to the side.

“FIRE!” Lima cried out.

Teak squeaked in fear before diving to the floor and covering his head.

The cable burst forth from the gauntlet, crossed the room in an instant, and crashed into the wall of the amphitheater with a crack. The wall shattered around the impact zone, falling to the floor along with the rest of the cable, which had completely snapped off from the rest of the gauntlet.

“I can’t believe you dodged!” Lima said, shocked, falling to his knees. “T-there’s no way!”

“I didn’t dodge!” Teak said in outrage, scrambling back to his feet from where he had taken cover. “It didn’t even fire in the right direction!”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. It had fired off to the side at an angle—there was no chance it was hitting anyone as is.

“I give up, Bestwitch—he’s too powerful,” Lima said weakly, falling onto his back and closing his eyes. “Tell my team… they all suck….”

“Boo!” Claire called out from the stands.

“Winner, Teak Fawn. Victory by surrender.” The mechanized voice said pleasantly.

The sound of clacking made its way towards him and then stopped next to his head, and Lima cracked an eye open to make sure that she wasn’t about to murder him. Goodwitch stared down at him with a squinted gaze. He laughed nervously before she turned away from him to look up at the match randomizer.

“Cardin Winchester and Jaune Arc, get down here,” Goodwitch sighed, “Mr. Morta, please take this seriously. I would hate to have to drag you in front of the headmaster for a discussion about conduct.”

“Sure thing,” Lima said quickly, scrambling to his feet and dusting himself off. “I’ll be on my best behavior from now on—promise.”

He saluted her with Teak’s sword just to show he was serious.

“Very well,” Glynda said dryly, waving him away from the stage.

Teak caught up to him at the stairs dragging his detached cable behind him, and they wrestled for a moment over who got to keep which weapon before they traded them back.

“Idiot,” Teak said, embarrassed.

Lima grinned—they sparred all the time, and they both knew how the fight was going to go. So instead of beating Teak immediately, and neither of them getting anything out of the experience, he’d treated it like a spar, and once the other boy had begun to grow tired, he’d decided to have a bit of fun.

Uh oh—Lux had a dangerous look on her face.

“You threw away your win streak for a joke.” Lux hissed, glaring at him. “And you!”

Lux turned her eyes on Teak for a moment, and the boy squeaked before ducking behind him. Lux returned her death gaze to Lima.

“I wanted to be the one you lost it to,” Lux said darkly, staring in his soul.

Lima was starting to sweat a little—

“Dude, phrasing,” Claire said, amused. “I don’t think now is the time for a confession.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Lux cried in horror, dragging the other girl into her grasp.

Lima took the opportunity to sit back down in time to catch Jaune sliding back from a strike. He was slowly getting more accustomed to fighting—He wondered if the blonde boy had taken his advice seriously and asked Pyrrha to beat him up on the regular. He’d have to ask next time they spoke—Lima winced as Cardin brought the match to a close, the final strike being halted by Glynda due to the Aura threshold.

“Winner, Cardin Winchester. Victory by Aura depletion.” The mechanized voice said pleasantly.

“Much like our own system, the tournament-style matches work on an aura threshold,” Glynda said seriously, “The amount of Aura Mr. Arc currently has left opens him up to having an official call the match.”

Jaune didn’t look very happy with being used as a measuring device for the rest of the class.

“Your scroll is your ally in this regard, Mr. Arc,” Glynda said more gently, “Ensure you keep an eye on your Aura levels during combat and adjust your strategy based on the changing situation—if you are low, you must turn to a defensive strategy.”

“Yeah.” Jaune said evasively, “I’ll keep an eye on it.”

Glynda simply nodded and waved the two boys off the stage.

“Now, to speak more broadly—The Vytal Festival is only a few months away, and it will be upon us before you know it.” Glynda said, sharply, “The students of the other academies will soon be arriving in Vale and eventually joining you all in classes—this is an important issue for those of you who chose to participate in the Vytal Combat Tournament. Who can identify why this information is important—Ms. Nikos?”

“If we are to be sharing classes with the other competitors, they will learn what we are capable of through practical classes,” Pyrrha said smiling, “In turn, we will learn what they are capable of.”

Glynda looked pleased.

“Correct, Ms. Nikos,” Glynda said, pleased. “Keep that in mind while you are practicing for the tournament. Those of you who do intend on entering, please feel free to speak to me if you have any concerns about the process—”

The bell cut across them, and Glynda waved them all to the door.

“Remember, you are representing both Beacon and all of Vale to the rest of the world,” Glynda said in parting. “Comport yourselves with that in mind—Especially you, Mr. Morta!”

Lima pretended not to hear her—it was better that way.