rure
patreon
So it is done: Pyrrha and Aifal
🕑 Added 2023-11-09 01:32:20 +0000 UTCMaking her way inside the hospital, Pyrrha, as was custom, approached the clerk's desk who was responsible for answering the questions of visitors. At the same time, more importantly to Pyrrha, also responsible for greeting and sorting those who were trying to get inside the hospital. Past the busy receptionists, the hurrying doctors, and the bored guards who were guarding the expensive equipment and medicines rather than the defenceless patients, the clerk’s desk was like an island of calm.
Before Pyrrha could even approach the clerk's desk, the clerk simply nodded before she could get to the desk, having already become acquainted with Pyrrha in the past few days. The guard, standing by the entrance, who was also already familiar with Pyrrha, waved her aside, opening the doors.
Normally, visiting patients, especially those as important as a Mistral Counselor, was strictly regulated, especially considering the fact that Aifal was still in the ICU. But, after her last visit, when she flatly refused to leave the hospital at all, and with the guards who arrived on the scene were unable to move the would-be huntress, the hospital had to find a compromise. Especially when calling the police is simply out of the option.
You need Hunters to deal with other Hunters, after all.
And no one wants to call in the Hunters for a simple altercation, especially something as rife with landmines as ‘getting rid of a bereaved visitor’. Never mind the cost of hiring a Hunter in the first place, the optics alone would be devastating. Especially if a fight took place, just imagining the damaging press if anyone would be hurt, caused the hospital’s administrators heartburn. And they would have to keep the Hunter in retainer, as even if they did succeed in their mission to evict Pyrrha, it didn't guarantee a lasting result.
After all, no one was stopping Pyrrha from simply returning again after the Hunter brought her home. And even the First Hospital of Mistral didn't have the money to keep Hunters as its guards, let alone hire hunters solely for the purpose of controlling one girl.
Besides, Aifal himself had intervened, even in his grave condition he was still of sound mind and judgement, and so his word overrode the hospital's rules. So, Pyrrha was given round-the-clock access to her room, something she remembered to use every day when she visited Aifal.
However, she did so purely out of excitement for her adoptive father… If not legally, but in spirit. The Counselor in charge of Mistral's Diplomatic and Foreign Policy was the father to the entire First Mistral Children's Home, and it was only due to conflicting schedules that Pyrrha was the only visitor to the hospital today.
So, entering the clean room, or well the ad hoc one created by the hospital once it became clear that Aifal would be getting visitors regardless of their rules. Once inside the designated cubbyhole, Pyrrha put on the overshoes, gathering her normally loose hair into a ponytail and threw on a white clean overcoat, trying her best to obey the hospital's rules.
Then, rising from the small padded ottoman, Pyrrha headed forwards, passing the several branching corridors leading to one ward or another, and headed for the stairs, bypassing the lift next to them. After all, she wasn't in a hurry to get anywhere at the moment, so using something that the other patients could use seemed kind of wrong and rude to Pyrrha…
While that ship has sailed, what with her refusing to leave the hospital, almost needing police intervention, but if she hadn't insisted then, she wouldn't have been able to see Aifal at all! So the fact that Pyrrha was the kind of person to inconvenience people had been put on the back burner, making way for the Huntress, more than capable of standing her ground.
So after passing the unused lift and reaching the stairs, Pyrrha began to climb, using the light exercise to let her thoughts spin further in her head of their own accord.
A Huntress, huh…
Three years ago, give or take a couple of weeks, Pyrrha had won the Mistral Championship for would-be hunters, earning her fame, honor, and recognition… And she didn't like it.
Not the fact that she entered the competition itself. No, the event itself was an interesting, exciting even, competition. Pyrrha found that she had enjoyed battling her peers, enjoyed winning, she even enjoyed the admiration of the crowd letting out cheers of triumph after her victory, or their expressed amazement as she evaded another blow from her opponent.
But… But… After the triumphant award ceremony and the big picture that would henceforth hang in the pantheon of fame of the Mistral Championships like a cornucopia, the troubles started. Advertising contracts poured in, so as admiring fan letters, offers for interviews from one program or another… And Pyrrha suddenly felt so small in this big and scary world.
All these strangers that had suddenly started writing to her, calling her, inviting her to interviews, until one day someone recognized her on the street, and it was the beginning of her nightmares.
The fan came up to her and asked to take her picture, of course Phyrra, ever polite, agreed to it. But as soon as the polite guy finished taking her picture, Pyrrha was struck with fear.
Fear that now she couldn't leave the house without being recognized. Fear that there were strangers in the world that knew her.
Despite all of her training, all of her fighting ability, abilities that Pyrrha had demonstrated for the world during her championship run, Pyrrha was overcome with fear.
When she did return to her normal daily life? All the kids she had socialized with before started to shun her. The completely random people with whom she sometimes exchanged words or chatted petulantly about trivial matters suddenly distanced themselves. Pyrrha even had one of the boys in her class, the one she once had a crush on, offer to take her out for a walk, nothing but a friendly walk, but his offer was instantly ridiculed and forgotten. Not by Phyrra mind you, but by the rest of the class.
After all, Pyrrha Nikos was a ‘star’ now, why would she want to socialize with the ‘ordinary’ people in her class?
Pyrrha was painfully tempted to loudly object to this, that no, nothing had changed, she was no star, they had just got it wrong. But even if Pyrrha did so, what next? The uncomfortable awkwardness would still remain, her classmates would still distance themselves from her…
The victory that Pyrrha had enjoyed before, showing off her skill, her well-deserved source of pride, began to poison her life.
But at the same time it brought money, didn't it? Lots of money - Pyrrha had even heard some cereal companies offer her to appear on the cover of cereal boxes.
Pyrrha couldn't even imagine what it would be like to walk into a shop to see a hundred of her own faces looking at people passing by. People that now would always be able to point a finger at her and say ‘hey, I know you, don't I?!’
Her victory, however, was not solely due to her capability alone. No, she owed her victory primarily to her teachers, her support group of friends from her home, and of course Aifal, who had initially recognized her talents and found the best teachers for the abandoned orphan in Mistral. Which meant that she was obliged to reimburse him for his expenses, at least monetarily, from the money from her advertising contracts.
Something that Aifal flatly refused.
With a laugh, he informed Pyrrha that the seemingly unbelievable sums from contracts for Aifal were barely pocket change for Aifal himself. And so when, confused, Pyrrha tried to ask Aifal exactly how he felt about the idea of her competing. Maybe he wanted Pyrrha to continue her triumph in the arena of the Mistral championships, Aifal only informed her that Pyrrha worried too much about the small things in this life.
He informed her that if she decided not to continue her career - he would support her. And so when Pyrrha informed him that she didn’t want to be famous, that's what happened. Soon, there’s no more interview requests, no more solicitations for this or that advertisement contracts.
And soon, Pyrrha, who had shot to fame as a rising star on the Mistral skyline, disappeared as quickly as she had originally popped into the field. Not that she stopped training, of course.
Of course, such a thing couldn't go unnoticed. Someone decided to accuse her of cheating, enjoying the fact that Pyrrha herself couldn't respond to the slander, while others started scandalous rumors as to why she was forced to leave the big stage… But Pyrrha didn't bother responding, and soon, even that wave of scandals stopped, and as quickly as popularity came, so quickly it left.
After a few months, less than a year, only her closest friends, herself and Aifal knew about the fact that she was once a rising star.
After that, Pyrrha, who had been inoculated for life to the desire to prove herself, with Aifal successfully weaning her from what had been a bad habit of holding back in battle, kept on training. Not for the competitions, Pyrrha learning her lesson avoided the spotlight like it would burn her, but simply because she enjoyed it.
Even so, despite trying not to stand out, she couldn't avoid the gaze of the Academy Directors. Anyone of her age and ability could enter a hunter academy, in fact, that was supposed to be the natural progression for future Hunters, but few received a personal invitation to continue their studies. And she had received such a thing, from Beacon – from Headmaster Ozpin.
Such a thing certainly warmed Pyrrha's soul - any way you looked at it, it was recognition of her talents. And it was done personally as well, without all the pomp and circumstances! So Pyrrha didn't have to worry about being on a pedestal again.
But at the same time, Pyrrha worried about having to leave her adoptive father, her home, and haven.
Even with teleportation, something that made it, so she could get her back to Mistral in just half an hour from Beacon, hardly reassured her. In any case it was a change of environment, a distance from home, a change from her normal, especially now that Aifal was lying in hospital, in his condition…
When Pyrrha reached her destination after the long flight of stairs, she then made her way to Aifal’s room. Her destination in sight, Pyrrha finally shook off those thoughts, knocking lightly and almost shyly on the door. It took a moment for her to hear the familiar, if now slightly husky, voice. "Come in.”
After another moment, Pyrrha pushed the handle and opened the door ajar, stepping inside the room.
It was a small but comfortable room. At least as comfortable as a hospital room in the ICU wing could be. The room was flooded with the morning light streaming in through the large panoramic windows, with a large plasma TV, currently switched off, placed against the far wall, opposite Aifal's bed. A room for the most important people, though to Pyrrha it looked too severe and sterile for her liking.
However, one couldn't forget for a second that this was still a hospital room. There was a small medical monitor next to a large bed with wheels and a small railing, showing the measured rhythm of Aifal's heartbeat. Next to it was a rack standing tall next to Aifal’s bed with a bag of some kind of solution hanging on it, its contents running through a small tube to a needle injected into Aifal’s vein. Lastly, was a hose coming out of the wall, ending in a mask that was currently on the older man's face.
But looking at Aifal's own calm face, it looked as if it wasn’t out of place for the man to be seriously ill and under the constant scrutiny of doctors. No, instead his face was unworried, his oxygen mask worn like it was a tribute to his new fashion, as his right hand continued to write rapidly on the large white sheet of paper in front of him.
However, seeing Pyrrha, he instantly put his writing utensils away, moving the clipboard down, as he turned slightly towards Pyrrha, gesturing towards the visitor's chair next to him, or rather, Pyrrha's, since no other visitors were even expected.
“Good morning,” Pyrrha smiled at the old Councillor before making her way over to her now designated seat. “How are you feeling, how did you sleep?”
“Good, Pyrrha,” Aifal blurted out, a small sly grin at his apprentice's words before answering her calmly. “I feel much better today…”
***
Life was an amazing thing.
It was with that in mind that Aifal lived his life. Born to a family of cheats and an alcoholic, Aifal was receiving education on the streets before he was in school, but at the time, he thought that that was an advantage for him. At least, he could find more food and fewer adults with anger management issues on the street than at home.
Given that Aifal was born and lived his life in Mistral, where the streets were harsher than even Mantle, that was quite the depressing outlook. At least in Mantle you'd just freeze to death, while in Mistral you'd likely be stripped to the bone by the local gangs beforehand, or captured to be sold into slavery, that certainly said something about Aifal's childhood.
Until suddenly he was spotted on the street by the very same cartel that was selling people, and Aifal's life suddenly changed for the better. Because, unlike the many street children who disappear on the streets of Mistral, Aifal had struck the jackpot. The head of the gang had taken a liking to him when Aifal had become a friend of his son. On purpose, of course.
Even if the ‘games’ they play was more like torture for Aifal, all just so that Aifal could become the gang leader son’s friend.
Sadly, Aifal's initial good fortune turned to bad luck quickly after. The police conducting a raid, having ascertained that the gang leader was in the building, and either not knowing or just plainly not caring about anyone else inside the building, decided to simply blow nerve gas through the ventilation system. On the other hand, it was at that moment that his semblance first revealed itself, allowing Aifal, listening to the police thoughts, to escape from the building, escaping through the only gap in the cordon around the gang's hideout.
Of course, not forgetting to crush the throat of the gang leader’s son before he committed the escape. It was his existence that Aifal owed his life to, but even after all these years, a few small scars could not be repaired by Aura, or even Glenn’s Panacea.
Finding himself on the streets again, but now much wiser, much better prepared, and with a mind-reading semblance, Aifal had struck rock bottom once more, but now much better armed to soar much higher than he had before.
Few of the major leaders of Mistral's underground world expected trouble from a child, so Aifal took advantage of it regularly. Posing as a messenger or the son of one of the gang members, and yet, one report after another, one use of his mind-reading semblance after another, drove several of Mistral's biggest drug dealers into warring amongst themselves.
The police, taking advantage of this chaos, busting one gang after another, never learned that they owed everything to an eleven-year-old with too much life experience in his young years.
The Mistral government had been waging an undeclared war on members of the criminal underworld since the days Mistral first became a state. Mistral itself had only become strong as a state when various large gangs had first organized themselves into one giant gang to defend themselves against a host of smaller claimants to their resources. Day after day, an unstoppable horde of criminals living on the streets with age-old ways dictated against the laws and the state grows. Sometimes Mistral manages to win a battle and destroy a crime syndicate, but another always rise up to take their place.
It was like a cycle of destruction and rebirth, and Aifal, who had a glimpse of how easy it is to control people when you know their deepest desires and most repressed fears, took his chance.
Taking advantage of the space he had created by inciting the largest gang war Mistral had seen, Aifal placed himself as the leader of one of the much weakened crime syndicate. Of course, there’s no way that hardened criminals would obey the orders of a child, so Aifal made liberal use of his Semblance, making his takeover much smoother. Not as the actual head of the gang of course, no tactic would allow a child to become a leader of a gang, he was no Jonathan Goodman after all.
No, rather as the out-and-out leader, Aifal placed himself as the face of a legendary strategist and tactician, with him only playing as a messenger. With no one seeing him as a source of danger, it was almost child’s play to become the leader, and with his abilities, his gang quickly climbed the ranks of the criminal underworld of Mistral.
Aifal's business went so well in fact that just a few years later, the previously malnourished kid with the scars on his back, entered a Hunters' preparatory school, being driven in a car with a private driver. Of course, he didn't forget to issue warnings to those getting dangerously close to the secret of identifying the ‘real’ gang leader… Sometimes in a more permanent fashion.
Life in a human trafficking cartel had left a mark on more than just the son of the past ringleader. Aifal learned quickly that mercy is the privilege of the powerful, and that he was far from being powerful.
And from there, Aifal only needed to properly use the cards dealt into his hands. From prep school student, to academy student, and then to Hunter. From a messenger to deputy to the ‘real’ gang leader, before he could sit in the chair as leader officially.
From intimidated orphan to crime boss Mistral to… Salem’s chained attack dog.
Salem had come into Aifal's life, and he was not surprised. Well, he was definitely surprised as he caught the alien thought coming closer, before he came face to face with the Queen of the Grimm. While he knew that magic, Maidens, and other such mysteries existed, mind-reading shed light on many of the mysteries of this world, he was still unprepared to meet the immortal.
He was expecting such a visit, of course.
No one that would fashion themselves as the ruler of Remnant would miss out on Remnant's most successful criminal and someone who could read other people's minds - one of Remnant's greatest Semblances… And even if she didn’t, who would allow such a thing out of their control?
But Salem had miscalculated the moment he forced Aifal to serve her. When, in her immortal dark majesty, announced that he now had only one way of avoiding his imminent death – that is, loyal and eternal service to herself, she had miscalculated.
Because Aifal, thanks to his past, was not afraid of death… And to deceive someone who can’t read minds, is a surprisingly non-trivial task.
That's why Aifal instantly realized that Salem needed him, that Salem required his abilities to match Ozpin's mastery of underhanded intrigue - that she needed him desperately. He knows that Salem was willing to forgive him for much.
And Aifal, devoid of any sense of fear but fully convinced that life was an amazing thing, decided to have some fun at Salem's expense - to use all her money for one big party… Metaphorically speaking, that is.
Mind-reading made him a virtually invincible opponent in underhanded intrigue, yet made his life so boring to the point of deathly boredom. Fighting immortal, ancient entities? At least it promised something interesting for Aifal. Political machinations, hunts, battles, until it all reaches a crescendo, a finale!
Whoever won at the end, Aifal doesn’t care, at least it would be fun. Something unusual, something he couldn't predict, something new he hadn't experienced before.
Aifal, knowing human hearts so perfectly, was willing to go to great lengths to find something new… Only, he hadn't found it.
For a brief moment, Aifal felt alive in his new position, playing the subordinate of the Queen of Grimm, even having soared so high to become a Councillor of Mistral. Aifal could enjoy all the beauties of the world that his past poor childhood had kept him from enjoying. But, after the first few receptions in high society, it had lost much of its shine.
Aifal found that people, no matter their place in life, a pauper, or a prince, remained human in the end. The thoughts that reigned in the heads of street thugs or noble officials were not much different. As for his adversary that was supposed to amuse his pastime, Ozpin… His enemy had apparently never been informed of the start of the battle, so he simply did not show up for the fight.
And considering that Aifal himself was not looking to win, but to have fun, just to have the fight, he had gotten nothing. If Ozpin intended for this to happen, he could only bow his head to the master of intrigue.
But sadly this was not the case.
No, the fight of his life that he was looking for, turned out to be a bye, something in turn that meant that having achieved everything in this life that he could ever want… Aifal had lost his taste for life.
The illness came at a very opportune time. A tragic finale in which the former orphan from Mistral had risen to the top only to find that he now had absolutely nothing to do at this new peak.
But life was a marvelous thing.
And so, when Aifal, scratching his skin littered with pain from the many scars he had accrued from his exciting life, tried to swallow at least a drop of water. Wondering when death would have mercy on him and stop torturing him, he suddenly heard the voice of his mistress again. Who had decided to extend Aifal’s contract, and thus his life in this world? He could only marvel at how amazing life was.
And so he found himself back in his office, contacting old connections in criminal circles, old acquaintances in official circles, old friends and allies. The world had become interesting for Aifal once again.
Jonathan Goodman. An unknown variable, dropped in out of nowhere as if from another world… It was much later that Aifal was able to see how true that remark really was.
And then… And then the world began to change.
Glenn was saved, Menagerie became a state, Atlas was dissolved, and Vacuo was protected from its imminent demise. The assassination attempts, intrigue, treaties, betrayals, diplomacy and science, magic and the honed games of the old politicians. Oh yes, Aifal had a lot of fun.
Fighting in Mantle against Ozpin, helping Menagerie distance itself from Glenn, and helping to grow the economy of Mistral, Aifal has had a lot of fun. So many plots, backstabs and intrigue, so many maneuvers, so many endings.
Right, wrong, victories, defeats, a dagger in Ozpin’s back, yet another for Jonathan, Pyrrha's dead parents, and Amber rescued from the embrace of hopelessness. So many highlights.
And yet here it is, the finale. The second time for Aifal, and this time, there would be no resurrections.
Aifal was not young, but still not old back then, fifteen years ago, when he had expected to meet his death. Now, however, he was just old, so old and… so tired.
Oh, he'd had so much fun in his long life, he had seen actual, true magic in action and the inner workings of Mistral's most brutal cartels. He's eaten out of rubbish dumps and in the most expensive restaurants in Remnant. Been a beggar and the most powerful man in Remnant. He's worked for the good of Remnant, and the immortal goddess of Grimm to its doom.
And yet, for all that he had accomplished… He was forced to confront reality, it is gleefully reminding him that no matter how powerful a man he was, in the end he was still just a man. Mortal.
In his line of work, a stroke was not unexpected, what with the pressures and toll it takes on one’s health, what’s unexpected was the fact that Aifal had suffered his first at such a late age. And having lost control of his left half of his body, he had not lost his mental faculties.
But that was a small consolation. He would not want to spend the last days of his life not capable of giving an account to himself of who he was, or where he was. Or was there a peculiarly frightening charm in not knowing, of not knowing exactly when death would catch up with him? This, alas, Aifal could no longer verify.
Glenn's marvelous medicine could save from any condition, except old age. If there was such a medicine, Jonathan was definitely keeping it lock and key, Aifal was simply too tired to find out. In the end, Aifal had realized that he was simply too old.
He had outlived his time, watched as monarchies declined and its rebirth, encountered magic and technology that could be mistaken for magic, godlike entities and mere humans…
He had little to complain about at the end of his life.
His mighty empire had long been prepared for his passing; if there was someone capable of taking the reins of it, Aifal had left his eventual heir a couple of boons. If not, Aifal had prepared a self-destruct mechanism.
In a few years, hundreds of small gangs and large underground empires would begin the process of self-digestion, leaving Remnant, Mistral especially, a little cleaner than it had been before.
As for children… He had children. Lots of children, the entire First Children's House of Mistral for instance. On the lives of each of them he left his mark. Some positive, as in Amber's case, she'd never find out exactly who had set up her move to Glenn. Some negative, as Marcus Black Jr. is laid to rest on the grounds of the cemetery adjacent to the Mistral Necropolis. Some, a mix of both, as in the case of Pyrrha Nikos.....
He wanted to see how each of them would end up, what paths they would take in the future… Well, not the dead ones.
But time is merciless to all. The doctors treating Aifal didn't even need to speak, he could hear their thoughts perfectly well. The end of his life was not in years, months, or even weeks, but days at best. In just a day or two, his long cycle of life would be complete.
Aifal had a lot of fun in his life, but as all children had learned, the fun times had to end one day.
“Pyrrha.” Contrary to Aifal’s own prolonged musings, he was not silent as he was reminiscing on his long life, staring at a distant point on the wall. He was talking to Pyrrha, listening to her words and her thoughts, maintaining a dialogue, before he turned to her.
”Something's troubling you, isn't it?”
Pyrrha didn't answer immediately, but of course Aifal already knew her answer. After waiting for a few seconds, she managed to pull herself together and started speaking, timidly. "I've been offered admission to the Hunters' academy…”
“Congratulations.” Aifal smiled warmly at Pyrrha's words, "Beacon, isn't it?”
“Yes.” Pyrrha looked away, embarrassed, as if ashamed of how much her talents were appreciated by Ozpin, not even doubting that even lying in his hospital bed, Aifal knew everything that was going on in the world.
“You know, forgive me if I'm interfering in the wrong place, but I don't think you should go to Beacon.” Aifal smiled slightly at Pyrrha's slip of surprise, relieved that Aifal had made a difficult decision for her, but surprised that Aifal had made such a rare decision for him to interfere in his ward's life.
"I think the headmaster at Beacon… Is not as kind as the newspapers say he is.”
“Professor Ozpin?” Pyrrha was surprised, but it was no surprise to Aifal, causing Aifal to nod.
“That's right. I've met him a couple of times in the past-" Aifal smiled slightly. Even on his deathbed, he could give Ozpin one last stab.
“You know, I'd highly recommend you to Glenn… I'm not only sure that His Majesty would appreciate you, but that he’s an excellent headmaster.”
“Hm?” Pyrrha looked at Aifal in surprise, causing him to nod slowly, to which Pyrrha nodded back as if mesmerized. “Okay, I… I'll think about it.”
Aifal only nodded favorably at these words, before then turning his gaze back to the paper he had set aside on the tablet, and with his only working hand he reached over and rolled it up, handing it to Pyrrha. Pyrrha accepted the folded paper in return, looking first at it incomprehensibly and then at Aifal questioningly.
“I think you should visit Glenn today… And give this to His Majesty,” Aifal smiled at Pyrrha, knowing for sure that she wouldn't read its contents.
“I think they are giving a tour of the academy just today, actually…”
Pyrrha quickly folded the letter and tucked it away, looking at her foster father in confusion,
"But how will I get to His Majesty? I don't think some random girl would be allowed to meet His Majesty.” If there was a note of happiness as Pyrrha mentioned her anonymity, Aifal chose not to comment on it.
“Don't worry about it, Pyrrha," Aifal nodded favorably. "Just mention my name.”
After those words, Aifal paused for a bit before coming to a decision and nodding to himself and Pyrrha.
“All right, Pyrrha, I think the tour of the academy will start soon…” Aifal said quietly, making it clear that the conversation was over,- “Go… I'm feeling sleepy, and you should not miss the tour, first impressions matter after all.”
Pyrrha nodded a little embarrassed, but did not argue, realizing that Aifal, in his serious condition, should be given as much time to rest as he needed, and rose from her seat and headed away from his room. Under normal circumstances, Aifal preferred to work much more gracefully, light half-sentences, a light touch here and there, always without his name.
But Aifal's life was coming to an end.
And if he was destined to meet his death in just a few days, at least Aifal wanted to deal with the one thing in his life that he wished to do, but didn't have time to.
