Monday, the 4th of May, 79AGW.

Hallway, Beacon.

“All I’m saying is that if any of you start coughing, I’m moving to Vacuo—sand or otherwise,” Lima said firmly.

“It’s just a cold, Lima,” Claire said, amused.

“One man’s runny nose is another man’s deathbed, alright?” Lima said defensively. “I’ve lasted a decade without getting sick even once. Don’t ruin my streak.”

“There’s no way that’s true,” Lux said, frowning, “People get sick all the time—”

“Not even once,” Lima insisted. “If I even hear a sneeze, I’m out—you’re back, huh?”

Teak spun around and stepped backward, bumping in Lux as he found Cardin standing directly behind him. Dove, Sky, and Russel were nearby, far enough away for them to be out of earshot but still observing what was happening.

“I’m back,” Cardin agreed, scratching his cheek. “Look, I need to talk to you and Teak.”

“Why?” Lux frowned, dropping her arm around Teak’s shoulder. “If you’re here to start anything—well, actually, that sounds like fun.”

“I’m not,” Cardin said firmly. “Can we have a moment, please?”

“Go on,” Lima said easily, “Boys only meeting, no icky girls allowed—off with you!”

“Are you sure?” Claire said, concerned.

Teak looked a bit hesitant and still hadn’t managed to detangle himself from Lux’s almost headlock.

“Yeah,” Teak said, quiet. “I have Lima with me; I’ll be fine—we’ll meet you in Grimm Studies.”

“Fine,” Lux huffed, letting the short boy go. “If you get in a fight, I’ll never forgive you for leaving me out of it.”

Claire turned to follow the Faunus girl, giving her a strange look.

“That doesn’t sound right,” Cardin blinked, “Isn’t it supposed to be ‘I’ll never forgive you if something happens?’”

Teak looked like he didn’t know if he should speak up or not.

“I think it’s the best we’re going to get,” Lima admitted, shrugging. “What’s up, Cardin?”

“Right—I’ve been put on good behaviour for the rest of the year; if I step out of line too much, I’m going to be kicked out,” Cardin sighed, “It’s punishment for all of the stuff I’ve been doing.”

“Sorry,” Teak mumbled.

“Don’t be; a lot of people spoke up about me—it wasn’t just you I was pushing around,” Cardin admitted, nodding to them. “I’ve been a dickhead since I got here, and now, I’m paying for it.”

“What have they got you doing?” Lima asked, genuinely curious. “I’m fixing the damn tournament forms that nobody seems to be able to fill out properly—there are hundreds of them.”

“I was confined to the dorm for several days while they investigated, and besides the good behaviour rules, I’m supposed to go talk to each of the people I messed with and apologize,” Cardin said easily, “That’s why I’m here talking to you two.”

“Oh,” Teak said, watching the taller boy’s feet. “That’s why you weren’t in class.”

“That’s why,” Cardin agreed, “Teak, I’m sorry about the things I said to you. You probably won’t believe me when I say this; I know I wouldn’t, but I don’t have a problem with Faunus. I heard a lot of that stuff from my parents, and I was reaching for things I knew would upset you—I shouldn’t have said any of it.”

Damn, that was a pretty good apology; Lima was impressed.

“I believe you,” Teak said quickly, no longer looking at the ground. “I know there’s still a lot of people that don’t like the Faunus, and it’s easy to pick things like that up—I just… I won’t hold it against you.”

Cardin scratched the back of his head, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Thanks, man,” Cardin said quietly before nodding. “Lima—”

“If you’re going to apologize to me, don’t bother,” Lima interjected, shaking his head. “I’m the one who attacked you, remember? Let’s just put it behind us.”

“Right,” Cardin said, nodding. “Thanks for being cool about it—I’ll see you around.”

“Bye, Cardin.” Teak said, smiling.

“Take it easy,” Lima said, in parting, “Come on, Teak, if we stay out here any longer, I might have to tell Professor Port that I caught you trying to skip class, and that’s why we’re late.”

“What?” Teak said, alarmed, “You better not—Lima!”

Monday, the 4th of May, 79AGW.

Professor Oobleck’s Class, History, Beacon.

“I am incredibly confused,” Lima decided, frowning at the room. “What the heck do you think you’re doing here? Get out of my classroom second years!”

Those who were already seated in the benches looked down at him with expressions of curiosity and amusement, but Velvet only met his eyes for a moment before looking down at her desk. Rather than let the refusal to even look at his hurt, he channelled the feeling in a way he was far more used to.

“Lima,” Teak chastised.

“What?” Lima said incredulously. “It’s not my fault they can’t follow a schedule—that chick’s even in my seat! This is an outrage.”

“Is it some kind of shared class?” Claire wondered.

Lima spotted a familiar pattern of hair colours—yellow, red, black, and white.

“Weiss!” Lima said in shock once his gaze landed on her. “What are you doing! Get down here—you can’t sit with them!”

“Lima,” Weiss said, voice strangled.

Half the class turned to stare at the girl, and she flushed at the sudden attention he’d focused on her. She made no move to rejoin her fellow first-years, and Lima sighed.

“So, it’s like that, then,” Lima said sadly, shaking his head at the response. “Team Ruby is lost to us.”

“We were already lost to you,” Blake admitted, not even glancing up from her novel.

“You cannot hope to stand against our might now.” Yang agreed, “The second years are way cooler anyway.”

“Yang—you can’t change sides so quickly!” Ruby squawked, looking horrified.

“Just—just sit down!” Weiss managed, flustered. “You’re making us look bad to our seniors!”

Lima felt the sharp sting of betrayal and lifted a hand to brush his hair back, narrowing his eyes at them.

“This is a declaration of war,” Lux decided, stepping up beside him. “Which half of the room do you want?”

“I’ll take the left side,” Lima said, splaying his fingers at the benches on the left. “I just want you all to know—it didn’t have to end like this.”

“Lima,” Teak pleaded, tugging on his sleeve.

“My word, what’s going on here? Why are you all blocking the doorway?” Professor Oobleck said rapidly from outside the room. “Come on now, in you go—Mr. Morta, why are you standing there? Take your seat, please.”

Lima found himself pushed to the side as the rest of the class funnelled in through the door at the man’s direction.

“But sir!” Lima squawked indignantly, “That vile second year’s taken my seat, I demand you expel her—urk.”

Claire’s arm clenched around his neck, and he was too slow to stop it completely.

“Vile?” The girl said, blinking. “What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

“Ignore him, Coco; he’s broken.” Claire sighed, attempting to drag him across the room via headlock. “Teak, I’m leaving Lux to you—if she fights back, take her down.”

Teak reached out hesitantly and took hold of Lux’s wrist before she turned her dread-gaze on him.

“Um,” Teak squeaked, staring up at Lux. “Come sit down, please?”

Lux huffed, allowing herself to be pulled along to the benches.

“Yes, yes, as you can see, we have combined the first and second-year classes for this period,” Professor Oobleck said, “I’m afraid several of the staff have come down with the flu that’s been going around lately.”

Lima slumped lower in the seat Claire had chosen for him—it just didn’t feel the same. The girl who’d taken his seat—Coco, tipped her sunglasses down her nose and eyed him from across the room. One day he would have his vengeance, and it would be swift—

“Stop glaring at her,” Claire murmured, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not,” Lima lied.

Velvet was actually speaking to this Coco along with two guys, which wasn’t some he’d seen very often from the quiet girl—was that her team? If it was, he’d have to give up on his revenge; pushing into that minefield would only end up making trouble for her.

“Now, this situation was very last minute, so the coursework I’ve prepared for today is most likely something some of you have already gone over,” Oobleck said, addressing the second-year students. “You’ll have to bear with it, I’m afraid; if it is something you are familiar with and you do not wish to contribute, feel free to use your time more productively, as long as it does not interfere with the lesson.”

There was some mumbling and shuffling of papers at that.

“Where did I—Ah, there it is,” Oobleck said, flipping through the stacks of bound files on his desk. “Now; continuing in our overarching topic of discrimination, we will be moving on from the class divide and travelling across more unsteady waters—that is to say the Faunus Rights Revolution, or as some of you might have heard it referred to as ‘The Faunus War.’”

Lima noticed Velvet perking up because he was still ruminating on what he’d said to her back in the forest and hadn’t thought to look away.

“In order to understand the pressures involved, we will need to move back to the Great War once more,” Oobleck said cheerfully, tone at odds with the otherwise disastrous event. “During the early years of the conflict, Faunus were less commonly found on the warfronts itself, but by the halfway point, they were actively conscripted.”

Oobleck stepped to the side, pacing quickly.

“There were many cases of mistreatment recorded during this time period—Faunus were still not able to own property, and while marriage was not something that technically existed for them, they would not have been able to participate in such a ceremony.” Oobleck said clearly, “The culture and traditions of the Faunus were eroded due to the lasting denigration—although how much was lost due to direct human enslavement, as opposed to Grimm wiping out older Faunus and human settlements, is not exactly understood.”

Lima found himself checking the expressions of those around him, and he couldn’t help but notice that Blake was doing her best to look nonchalant, while Weiss had a conflicted look on her face. Teak was sitting forward in his seat, taking notes as he usually did—clearly engaged by the subject. Lux looked bored, and Velvet was sharing glances with the Faunus boy on her team.

“They’re increasing participation in the war began to actually sway opinions towards them by their comrades, and by the time the Great War had reached its final year, there were many whose opinions on the Faunus had changed greatly,” Oobleck continued, “Unfortunately, that unity crumbled over the next two decades and by 20AGW, almost all of the goodwill they had won had once more eroded.”

Lima frowned; fighting alongside each other in the war had only bought the Faunus a twenty-year reprieve.

“It wasn’t until 40AGW that societal conditions for the Faunus reached a breaking point, and the violence between the two became overtly prevalent once more; Vale, Mistral, and Mantle began a push to centralize the Faunus on Menagerie—it was offered under a banner of support and acceptance,” Oobleck said, shaking his head, “But that was not the intention, and it wasn’t how it was received; in reality, Menagerie was a way for those who were filled with hate and fear to remove the Faunus from society.”

Oobleck took a sip of his drink before clearing his throat.

“47AGW was the official year the Faunus Rights Revolution began, but the event that most widely recognized as the tipping point for the Faunus occurred in 44AGW,” Oobleck said, frowning, “Is there anyone here who can tell me what that event was?”

Several people raised their hands, including Jaune, Pyrrha, Ren, and Nora. The one that drew his attention was Velvet.

“Ms. Scarlatina,” Oobleck said pleasantly, “Please, go ahead.”

“The Blood Fields of Mistral,” Velvet said, frowning.

Lima sat back in his chair, biting his lip—is that why she didn’t like him? It almost felt like the reverse of that one discussion he’d had with Teak about his underlying weariness towards humans because of the things they’d done in the past. While he had lived in Mistral for several years, he hadn’t told Velvet that—he’d only said he was from Argus, which was near it.

Did she hate everyone that came from Anima?

“Thank you, Ms. Scarlatina, that is correct,” Oobleck said, spinning and moving back towards his desk, “The Blood Fields of Mistral, most likely the worst tragedy since the great war began—the people of Mistral gathered in the centre of the city in response to a rapid increase in Grimm activity; the irony here is that it was the treatment that they were bringing against the Faunus that caused the upward trend of negativity in the first place.”

The small amount of quiet talking that had taken place amongst the second years had settled down now, everyone listening to the story.

“Three hundred Faunus—men, women, and children—were forced into cages and placed in what is now referred to as the ‘Mistral Blood Fields,’” Oobleck said, watching them all. “The heightened emotional states of both parties—the human aggressors and the Faunus victims drew in the Grimm, as expected.”

Lima had heard two different versions of these events in his lifetime, one from Sage that closely matched how Oobleck was presenting it. The second version came from those with the Anti-Faunus bend that was still present in the older generation in Argus, and that same prejudice had been passed down to some of the children at Sanctum.

“There have been modern attempts to twist this incident into a more positive retelling, where each of those placed in the cages had been volunteers, who did so to draw out the Grimm and allow the ‘Noble Hunters’ to deal with them in a single night,” Oobleck said, the tone in his voice showing exactly how little stock he placed in that version. “If there had been a force of Hunters present, they were quickly overrun by the massive force of Grimm that was summoned in response.”

There were some shocked mutters from those who hadn’t heard of the event.

“The Grimm killed the Faunus inside the cages and proceeded to attack Mistral proper—it took almost forty-eight hours before the force of Grimm was finally dealt with.” Oobleck sighed, “The cages were later investigated, but there isn’t a single report of human remains inside any of them—every single ‘volunteer’ was a Faunus.”

Lima noticed that Teak wasn’t even taking notes anymore; instead, his gaze was firmly stuck on the desk. Lima reached out and put his arm around the boy’s shoulder in a one-armed hug, smiling at him when he looked up in surprise.

“Most of the instigators of that event were summarily jailed or in some cases executed, but there are many more who were not discovered, and who are likely still alive to this day,” Oobleck admitted, “Now, it’s generally accepted that once the news of this tragedy spread, it acted as the catalyst to the Faunus Rights Revolution—but sadly there are other events that contributed, many, many more. We won’t be covering each of them, but the ones which play a significant part in the events will be addressed.”

Oobleck took stock of the room for a moment before nodding.

“Now then, the first year of the ‘Faunus War—’” Oobleck began.

Monday, the 4th of May, 79AGW.

Glynda Goodwitch’s Office, Beacon.

“How does the pile keep getting bigger?” Lima said in horror. “Is this a war of attrition?”

The stack on his assigned desk was almost as large as it had been before he’d finished his detention yesterday.

“Yes, it is—the bottom half of that pile are forms for stalls, shops, and student performances during the day of the tournament.” Goodwitch sighed, “You should expect it to grow for at least another two days, but it will begin to taper off after that.”

Lima dragged himself to the desk, keeping his eyes locked on the sheets of paper to make sure more of them didn’t mystically appear. He slumped down into the chair and dragged the first sheet off the pile, scanning it with a now practised ease.

“Are these new forms any different?” Lima wondered.

“No, they are almost identical other than a summary and an attached requisition list.” Goodwitch said, “Most of them don’t need much review—the exception is for the stalls selling food and beverages; they must have an attached license for consumables.”

“I’ll make sure to double-check them then,” Lima murmured, “Don’t want anyone getting poisoning... hmm, on the other hand, I might be able to weaken the opposition—”

“You’ve been a big help with these forms,” Goodwitch said, considering, “I might have to extend your detention until the end of the year—”

“Oh my god,” Lima said, alarmed, “Let’s not say anything we can’t take back, okay?”

“That would be my advice to you, Mr. Morta,” Goodwitch smirked.

Lima stuck his head down and worked through his stack of forms; every time he came across one with a crucial piece of missing information, he just stared at it without understanding—for Remnant’s sake’ some of them tended to write their initials in an attempt to save time.