Juniper Bough Ch. 9

Interrogations… they were a million different things all at once. Weiss didn’t try to pretend that she was the master of herself when thinking about things like this. Yes, they demanded absolute professional distance and neutrality, but at the same time… this was where she came alive. So much more than tedious squabbles with other aristocrats and petty intrigues, this was a head-to-head match to pry loose secrets from a mind that was determined not to let her in. And this was a cultist, someone who saw this interrogation in terms of existential impact. Coming from the boundless anxiety of waiting for news only to see Yang and Blake return with a captive, Weiss pitched from uncertain worry to exhilarating confidence. She had something to hold on to now, something where she could show everyone that, yes, she had a place in the Masque. But trying to calm the exhilaration within her, Weiss ran through what she knew about their captive.

Evidently, he was significant enough that he had reason to know about and use the secret passageways into the Temple’s Archives. Blake reported a clerk had gone in through the main door, which was securely locked, so there being secret access at all pointed to this man being a cut above the ordinary members. And from Yang’s description, a picture of someone who knew more about fighting than you’d expect from a preacher… this was a Sacristan. What his rank was within that order, or even if they had ranks, Weiss wasn’t sure, but what was also interesting… was that he was Valean.

Weiss knew that plenty of local Beacon Valeans swelled the ranks of the Juniper Bough—the Mistralian Quarter might be named for the Mistralian refugees who filled its tenements, but it had plenty of local residents who wanted to get in good with the new ruling power. But he wasn’t some day laborer or gang cutter, this was a Sacristan, a member of their most elite and secretive order, and that raised so many fascinating questions that Weiss knew she had to take a moment and breathe, lest she become too consumed by the excitement of prying open this puzzle. She took one last look at her board, then glanced to Blake with a nod. Time to go.

They headed into the makeshift interrogation room they’d set up for him. Not what Weiss would have prefered, but they had a table, chairs, and, importantly, cuffs and chains to keep him in place. These Sacristans were the great unknown of the Juniper Bough, and Weiss did not want to risk underestimating them. Especially this one, who had nearly caught Yang off guard and whose keen eyes now darted to Weiss and Blake as they entered the room. A cool customer, he was reading her as surely she was reading him and Weiss was careful to keep her appearance as opaque as she could to keep him from seeing how excited she was.

Blake folded her arms by the door as Weiss took her seat at the table. Giving her captor an amused glance, she was struck once more by how Valean he was. Country stock for sure, or she was a Vacuan, sunny blond hair and watery blue eyes the likes of which Weiss had seen captured in oils in so many stalls along the river road. A muscular build, nothing like Yang’s, but Weiss knew not to consider Yang the standard for anyone. He certainly had the build of a man who knew how to fight, but his eyes carried that spark of furtive brilliance. Who are you, she marveled, and what path led a Valean boy like you to the upper echelons of the Juniper Bough?

Taking the first word, Weiss gave the man a businesslike smile and began, “My apologies for the rough handling my associates might have given you. But operational secrecy demanded no witnesses and I’m quite curious to finally and properly meet one of your Order, Mr….”

She dangled the question as a taunt, as though to suggest that this was little more than a business meeting to her. Let him underestimate her as someone who didn’t know the harsher side of this business, who didn’t hear all the things Yang had suggested to get a man talking. But it seemed he was better than that as he just smiled back at Weiss, matching her tone exactly.

“Jaune Arc,” he said, raising his chained hand as though to shake hers, then giving her an apologetic look as he nodded at the handcuff tying his wrist to the table on a short chain. “I feel it’s only appropriate to give you my name, when I already know yours, Ms. Schnee.”

A surprise. But not much of one, judging from what Blake had shared with her about their records. And besides, Weiss was far too good to give up her emotions even if he had her name. Told her that the Bough was aware of her enough to guess a face, which was a known possibility.

“A pleasure to meet you Mr. Arc,” she said, taking her seat. “But I’m afraid your information is… inaccurate. I’m flattered that you-”

Jaune responded at her bluff with uproarious laughter, causing Weiss’s eyes to ever-so-slightly narrow.

“It’s unbecoming,” he explained, “to try and act like you haven’t been caught when it’s obvious I’m onto you, Ms. Schnee. Really, we both know who you are, so it’s better to just admit it and move on, rather than quibble about the basics. Or...” his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin, “Is this your first interrogation? You seem familiar with the principles,” he glanced around the room disdainfully, “but it’s so… schoolroom. The kind you-”

“We have questions for you, Mr. Arc,” Weiss cut in, a little too snappish, and she immediately felt her control loosen even further as she overplayed her hand, revealing that, yes, he had gotten under her skin with the accusations of amateurism.

Particularly as Mr. Arc kept going. “It’s really not even worth pretending you’re not her, Ms. Schnee. You might not dress like an aristocrat, and I’m sure your father can’t imagine his heir flouncing about in an interrogation room, but you can’t fool me,” Jaune said, leaning back in his seat, “You can do everything in your power to sever your connection from your past, to make yourself into someone new, but you can’t escape who you are, Ms. Schnee. Here, let me play a little game...”

Weiss put up a mask of stone as solid as anything Pyrrha Nikos wore, but knew she had no choice but to weather whatever gambit her prisoner was pulling here. Trying to stop him would only give away that she wasn’t in control. All she could do was hope he made a mistake.

Not that it seemed likely. With utter confidence, Jaune began, “You’re no stranger to manipulating people, I can tell that much. But I shouldn’t be surprised that Jacques Schnee raises willful daughters—your sister’s no idle aristocrat, that’s for sure. And the environment that led her to become a celebrated war hero also forged you: absent parents who only gave expectations of success without any of the guidance you desperately needed. I am a man of the cloth, Ms. Schnee,” he nauseatingly feigned gentleness with his words, “so I’m familiar with the spiritual wounds that lead people to seek control of their lives. And you, surrounded by an alienating world of wealth and privilege, caught between the possibility of freedom lived by your sister and the expectations of your parents—one of whom, I have to assume by numbers alone, has a weakness for spirits,” an obvious guess, with how rampant drink was through the Atlesian aristocracy, but damned if it didn’t sting, “And so you sought a third way. Present the dutiful daughter, but with a serpent’s heart lurking beneath.”

Weiss leaned back in her seat. Don’t let him know anything, she forcibly reminded herself as she heard her history echoed back to her.

“You’re here in Vale to get away from both options, and you’re here because… well, probably because of your time at boarding school… St. Maria’s, I would presume? I suspect a graduate of Marigold Academy wouldn’t have put so much emphasis on diction and bearing… But Maria’s would introduce you to more Southern interests, and I have no doubt it was the first place in your life where you felt free of that tension. Leading you to look to the southern Kingdoms to recapture that independence. Well?” he asked, a hyena’s grin breaking across his face, “How close am I?”

But the smirk didn’t last long.

Because now it was Weiss’s turn to grin.

“How Valean,” she began, drolly, “All upper class girls go to boarding school, as you know. Here, of course, it’s just a given. But I didn’t—and you should have been able to tell from my accent. Still a trace of the old Mantlean, because, as a Schnee, I was educated at home, by tutors, who couldn’t scrub out my mother’s heritage as easily as a boarding school might. But it’s interesting that you’d make that mistake, Mr. Arc. Someone who wasn’t an aristocrat wouldn’t have been so confident unless they’d done some research into Atlesian culture, which I now know you haven’t, but you suspected I had a boarding school education... because you’re of aristocratic background as well.”

Jaune didn’t respond, but Weiss knew how it felt to get caught overplaying your hand.

She continued. “But an aristocrat named ‘Jaune Arc...’ I don’t think you’re lying about your name, that sounds like it has the ring of truth to me. And you’re telling me the truth because you don’t have to lie—you know I wouldn’t know of the Arc family, wouldn’t be able to place it, even though, in coming here on behalf of the SDC, I would, of course, have familiarized myself with the major families of Vale and, specifically, Beacon. And of course, you knew that, so you knew I wouldn’t know a family… that didn’t exist anymore.”

Silence was the only answer she received, his eyes scanning her, trying to make her lose confidence as she went further and further out on the branch, to make her slip up and give him something to take advantage of and turn the tables once more. But she also saw something in them, something emotional. Something that told her she could charge on ahead fearlessly because she knew what she was looking at.

“It would have been… would have been the King’s Plague, correct?” she asked, seeing that infinitesimal fraction of a look on his face to confirm it. “I suspect we’re about the same age, so it must have hit while you were very young… and it must have been total. It almost makes me wonder, do you still remember them? The family that brought you to Mistral, like so many Valean families in those days, looking to flee the outbreak, but found they couldn’t. The family you lost to the plague, leaving you in Mistral with a name, with money… but all alone.”

Jaune was good. But he wasn’t perfect. And he’d given up a flash of anger and beneath it, pain, deep and irrepressible, the pain of a child who didn’t understand what the world had dealt upon him, the love and security of parents suddenly torn away.

Weiss stood up and leaned over the table, now looming above the man who had a solid foot on her standing up. “If you want to play games with me, Mr. Arc, you’re welcome to try,” she glowered at him, brandishing her supreme confidence like a weapon, “But I’m not what you’re used to. I’m not the pampered Atlesian aristocrat you judged me for. And while this has been a thrilling opportunity to test my mind against someone far more competent than my usual fare, I must warn you that these little games turn up just as much for me as they do for you… or is this not your first time being interrogated?”

He leaned forward, no longer presenting the gentle clergyman or the grinning mastermind, but instead, something harried and vicious and lean. An animal look, the predator caught in the trap whose teeth weren’t yet bared, but the threat was always present. “Ask whatever questions you’ve got,” he growled, “but I’m not turning over anything, and if you think you’ve got the upper hand… you know who you’re going up against. And you know who they’ll send after you. So ask your questions,” he said, leaning back in his seat, transforming back into his placid humanity like a werewolf at dawn, “because the clock is ticking, Ms. Schnee.”

A feeble parting shot.

Jaune Arc was not going to give up information easily, but he was a man, as human and fallible as any other. Weiss was used to testing men’s illusions and delusions, finding her fingers grasping only so much air as she sought to find the real parts she could grab ahold of. And Jaune had already made his first mistake.

A crack in his ego gave her an in to press, further and further. He’d presented his armor to her, certain that his intellection would make him invincible. Now she had him on the back foot, and with that confidence lost, he’d soon realize what a long… gruelling… imprisonment meant for a man cut off from those who could protect him. Weiss had plenty of cards in her hand and for all his bluster, Weiss had insight into how the Bough thought. She knew the Masque wasn’t even on their radar, and if he thought he had time on his side…

Well, she was happy to keep him dangling. Let him stew in his juices for a moment longer before it was time for her to lean forward and start the real interrogation.

LINE BREAK NORA

“What. Do you mean. That he’s. Gone.”

Nora felt like she could kill the trembling Acolyte before her, one of Zedong’s team, as she babbled out her excuses and explanations, but all that mattered to Nora was that she was the idiot who’d neglected security procedure so badly that they’d been burgled. But that was the voice of the Temple. Nora’s voice, the rumble of thunder deep within her soul, wanted to see this fool’s head removed from her shoulders because… because…

Because Jaune had been taken.

A guard had been knocked out, no clear view of his attacker, but that had triggered Red Protocol before Nora, Ren, and Pyrrha had returned, quickly finding they weren’t about to get the hero’s welcome they expected. Things got worse when Nora was permitted in through the cordon and given a briefing on what was discovered in the sweep necessitated by Yellow Protocol. Papers had been stolen from the Archives—no clear trend in what was listed as missing, but it was mostly records, a clear sign they had been here to blind them to something rather than anything worth money—but worse, no one could find Jaune. He didn’t seem to respond to any of the alarms, wasn’t in any place he ought to be in, and, eventually, to Nora and Ren’s horror, they realized that it hadn’t just been documents these burglars had been after.

It added up. It almost felt like Nora could hear Jaune’s voice in her mind, explaining his own kidnapping. “If we’re going to blind them,” he explained, “we’re going to want to hit their records, make them rebuild what they know and take advantage of all the gaps their knowledge now has. And take out their Mastermind—find whoever’s the linchpin of their operations, who does the analytical work in the background. That way, we leave them blind and take out their best bet of undoing that blindness.”

It sounded so ordinary in Jaune’s voice, a mission like any other, to cripple an Organization by going after their organization. But that’s what made it so horrible—Jaune-Jaune wasn’t just the Lead Sacristan of the Office of the Infallible Vessel, he was their brother. The thought of him being- being taken and- and- and-

“He’ll be alright,” Ren whispered from behind her. Nora turned away from the trembling girl and looked to him with watery eyes. “Jaune’s strong. And they wouldn’t have taken him with them if they didn’t think he was worth something in their hands. We’ll find them, we’ll get them back, and-”

“And then we’ll start breaking things,” Nora finished for him.

“Not their legs?” Ren asked, a weak attempt to lighten the mood. But Nora just shook her head. This was no time for jokes, this was…

“We’ll find them,” Ren reassured her again, “We’ll get Jaune back. And we’ll make them pay for everything they’re putting us through right now. But… we have work to do.”

They both glanced over to where Pyrrha was, serene, quiet, and invincible, an unapproachable figure of awe whose presence kept the believers from getting flighty after seeing things clearly not going according to plan. Nora could see the ring of acolytes and Enlightened, afraid to even look upon her for too long, much less approach her. It made it hard to think of how fallible the Temple was, even after a break-in left them locked out and waiting on the all clear, when the Vessel herself was right there.

“She has to be the one who gets him back...” Nora murmured, “Reasserts our authority over the Fallen World.” And because once Pyrrha was informed, no one could stop her from obliterating whoever had hurt Jaune. A glance at Ren showed he was on the same wavelength, but… but Renny wasn’t someone who… was the best at matters of the heart. Nora knew that well enough, but this was an even more difficult matter.

“It’s… I don’t know if we should, if she’ll…” he replied, understatement of the year.  “She’s not… she’s not going to take it well. But keeping her in the dark… won’t be easy.”

It was a cold way to put it, but Nora knew how to translate Ren’s words. There was a deep compassion within it, the knowledge that the two of them would be sharing something to cause anguish to a woman who had to seem above pain. And yet, she could hear the sense in Ren’s voice that the two of them… simply couldn’t put their duty to the Temple, their place as Sacristans as more important than… than Pyrrha and Jaune.

He did care. He cared so much, even as Nora struggled sometimes to hear him show it, but she knew he had a big heart and a deep, deep sense of compassion, even as he found it so difficult to express. Before they had found their way to the Temple, Ren had been the one who made the world make sense to Nora, the one who showed her she didn’t have to be afraid. That problems could be overcome, that they would be alright. He still was that man for her, but sometimes… sometimes you had to face the problems that couldn’t be solved, things that couldn’t be made alright. And that was how Nora helped Ren.

“Let’s go,” she said, marching directly over to Pyrrha before they had a chance to think themselves out of it.

Pyrrha’s gaze swiveled towards them, or what could be called a gaze, considering she was completely blind. Still, those carved stone eyes had a powerful transfixing effect when focused directly at someone, even on Nora, who knew Pyrrha as a person rather than the Vessel.

“Pyrrha,” she began, trying to think of how to soften the blow, “We have an urgent situation to-”

“It’s Jaune,” she said. It was impressive that she knew it already, but at the same time… what other issue would they keep her in the dark for so long?

“He’s missing,” Ren said, “We believe he’s been kidnapped as an effort to blind us before we could retaliate. There aren’t many foes we have who would know to strike at Jaune and have the ability to pull off such a-”

“The Ruby Masque,” Pyrrha said, flatly.

It was the name Cardin Winchester had said, a name Nora had never heard of before, but once he started describing his contacts for hiring them… Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna, Yang Xiao Long, the pieces had started falling together in Nora’s mind.

“We… don’t know that,” Ren ventured, clearly caught off guard by Pyrrha’s bluntness, “Going off without-”

“It’s them,” Pyrrha said, her words feeling like an overbalanced snowdrift, clinging to the side of the mountain and needing only the tiniest disturbance to explode into an avalanche. She was quietly determined now, but… in a moment, Nora had no doubt she’d be hearing the roar of the Vessel’s wrath tearing down in any direction she thought would lead her to her destination.

“Blake… Blake Belladonna has a safehouse just east of the Quarter, on Signal, not far from the river,” Nora spoke up to add, “We never… we never filed that fact, because we didn’t bring it up to Jaune, but that means… they wouldn’t know that we know of the safehouse. Which means-”

“If it’s them,” Ren cut in, “and if they’re at that safehouse! And with all that, they’re not going to leave a stronghold like that unguarded. We have to do this smart, do this like Jaune would-”

Ren’s words died in his throat. He was right, Nora knew he was right, but saying Jaune’s name awakened something cold and terrible in Pyrrha, something that told Nora they were a single whisper from the avalanche that could flatten the whole city.

“I am the Vessel of the New World,” Pyrrha said, the answer to all of their questions, the authority that overrode all their objections. And with that, she turned away and marched off, leaving Ren and Nora frozen in religious awe… until they suddenly realized how much easier it was to breathe now that she’d left their sight. She heard Renny exhale just as she did, the both of them completely overwhelmed by the sheer force of her presence. Nora knew Pyrrha like no one else did, but even she had never felt… had never felt her anger like this.

“She’s not… she’s not actually going to...” Ren whispered in a daze. “They’ll- they’ll-”

“I’ll muster a force!” Nora barked, snapping herself out of her daze, “If- if she’s going to need backup-”

“I’ll go after Jaune,” Ren said, “See- see if I can get to him first, while you get some backup for Pyrrha, and...”

The unconscious why are we still talking, MOVE that animated so much of Nora’s life kicked in. Pyrrha was on the move, the Vessel was going to war, and she might leave the whole city changed by the end of the day. As Sacristans, they were used to setting up every element, controlling for every variable, before the first step was even made. But now, they were playing catch up, trying to cover as Pyrrha went head on against… against...

If it was the Masque who’d robbed them and kidnapped Jaune… then they were an organization no one in the Temple knew anything about, other than the fact that they were confident enough to launch a direct strike into their headquarters, and that they would be marching right into their territory, no doubt fortified against a direct assault.

Pyrrha might be the Vessel, might be the greatest warrior alive, a living avalanche, but… their task as Sacristans had always left them acutely aware of how vulnerable the Invincible Girl truly was. How much could go wrong, how many things needed coordination and fallbacks and…

And Nora had to wonder how much she was about to lose tonight.