"Hei guys, TL here – the chapter came out way too long (almost 10k words), so it took me forever to translate and hunt for possible mistakes. Hope there aren't any left now.
I won't bother you any longer – enjoy the read."
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Egrer returned to his team's room completely drained of all strength and thoughts. Weiss had taken him on with her inherent stubbornness, and he left as mentally exhausted as his physiology would allow. His head was practically steaming, and even the slightest glimmer of a thought caused it pain. And an even greater pain, albeit of the spiritual variety, was caused by the sight of Illmond and Magenta, who didn't look tired in the slightest.
"How was your day?" Egrer asked, collapsing onto his bed. "How were classes?"
"Drew all day and watched anime," Illmond admitted immediately.
"I never doubted you for a second, slacker. What about you, Madge?"
"Oh, Ren and I played a super interesting game! He wrote the names of important history guys on a piece of paper, along with what they did in their lives. Then he cut the paper up like a puzzle, mixed it up, and I had to put it all back together! It was so much fun..."
'Clever, Ren, clever. Disguising education as a game... yeah, I wouldn't have thought of that,' Egrer thought respectfully. However, he immediately put a stop to that ungrateful activity.
Suddenly the door swung open, and he finally realized what was missing for the complete picture.
"I'm so fucking done..."
"Yort, don't swear! The Grimm invented cursing, and you're a Huntsman! Don't follow their example."
"I'd like to see a swearing Grimm," Illmond chuckled. "Madge, that's a story for kids. Grimm can't even talk, let alone swear."
Yort's heavy body crashed onto the small couch by the wall, and a second later the TV turned on above Egrer's head.
"Yort, turn that off, man. I can't process any more info right now, not even your trashy shows."
"Well, I'm the opposite, I need to stuff my head with trashy shows. Got way too much fucking math up in my brain... my head's melting."
"Wait, did you really sit in the library and cram for classes?" Egrer even propped himself up on his elbows and turned around. Their giant from Vacuo genuinely looked like he'd spent a week preparing to defend a diploma in nuclear physics, only to fail in the end. "Until you passed out three times?"
"Till my eyes hurt, felt sick to my stomach, and realized that those smartasses from the textbooks just love overcomplicating everything. And anyway, I don't need none of this history, survival skills, ethics, or whatever other trash. All I need is," he started ticking off his fingers, "to get swole in combat prep, get swole in PE, get swole in the club, and get swole at the gym. I didn't come to Beacon to study, I ain't a dumbass."
"The Huntsman profession is super important, actually!" Magenta chimed in.
"You enrolled here for a fucking game of roulette. Zip it."
The leader of the most scatterbrained team at Beacon crossed her arms over her chest and began to speak in a self-important tone:
"So what? Just because I don't have a mysterious criminal past like you two, or suicidal tendencies like Ill,"—the latter muttered an annoyed "I don't have those thoughts anymore,"—"doesn't mean I can't enroll at Beacon!"
Egrer chuckled.
"Yeah, it just means you don't really care about saving the world, kittens, and innocent civilians from the clutches of the Grimm. So don't preach at others for not giving a crap about a Huntsman career. You're exactly the same."
"Well, maybe I want to become a real Huntress now!"
The whole pack fell silent in surprise. Even Yort temporarily muted the TV.
"Madge, you realize that doesn't align with our main goal at all, right?" Egrer noted. "As a reminder, we're at Beacon to get our licenses. And we need those licenses so that various racists won't mess with us when we perform on the big stage. We're Faunus, in case you forgot."
"But we could go on missions and play there!" she came up with a compromise. "We'll save people in need and inspire them with our songs. How cool is that! Two in one."
"You're suggesting we sing in useless boondocks that could be wiped off the map in a week by a Grimm horde? We'll never get popular and famous like that."
"Why do you even wanna be mainstream so badly?" Illmond asked grumpily. "We could just be an underground indie band and chill. Nobody expects anything from normie nobodies."
"Exactly," Magenta nodded enthusiastically. "Why do we need fame? We can just play music for our own pleasure."
"If you don't switch religions from rock to pop, you won't have a chance of reaching the top-tier," Illmond concluded, shrugging. "It just doesn't work that way."
"Alright, drop the defeatist attitude!" Egrer ordered. "Your fatalism won't infect me, I believe I can become the absolute best if I try. And you, Madge, stop humoring him! Yort, back me up here!"
"How the fuck am I involved in this?" he wondered. "You guys keep bitchin', I actually got a few chips left in the chair here."
Egrer shuddered in disgust when Yort shoved his fingers between the armrest and the seat cushion, pulling out an orange chip crumb.
"You still didn't answer my question," Illmond remembered. "Why the hell do you even need it?"
"And why the hell do you need your artwork to be rated, commented on, and discussed? It's just creativity. You can draw or write songs and stuff them in a drawer, but your work only truly comes to life when someone hears it. And it will live all the brighter the more people know about it. Creativity without an audience is just a pointless act of masturbation over your own inner world."
"And creativity for the sake of farming an audience is practically the same as being a corporate sellout. Creativity not for the act of creation itself, but for external goals. Personally, that sickens me. Keep going down that route, and it's only a matter of time before you pander to the normies and your content goes to shit."
"My content won't go to shit!" Egrer declared. "I'd have to actually make it to the top first for that..."
"And you won't even rise to the top if you don't hook the listeners with something. Creators are slaves to other people's expectations. If we do everything our own way, we lose our audience; if we unquestioningly follow trends, we climb to the top. There's no other way."
"I repeat, your fatalism won't infect me! I've got a spark, and that spark will bring me fame. I'm sure there are plenty of people out there who share my musical tastes and ideas."
"You'd need some insane RNG for your interests to align with even a mid-sized crowd. Otherwise you'll only have two options: conform to society and do what they want, not what you want, or remain a nobody forever with a tiny little fanbase. Assuming you even get one. Y'know, in the artist community, it's like starting to draw furries. They're willing to pay a ton of money for it, but normal people will despise you for it." Illmond noticed the looks being thrown his way. "I don't do that kind of stuff, just so you know."
"Oh, really?" Yort asked sarcastically. "Like you wouldn't draw some fucked-up fetish?"
"Very weird, considering you drew hentai featuring an Ozpinopus..." Egrer joined in the condemnation.
"Bestiality and furry are different tags!"
At this pathetic excuse, Yort grimaced and stuck out his tongue, as if to show how deeply he despised him and his tastes. Illmond might not have realized it yet, but to them, one was just as deeply shameful as the other.
"Anyway," Egrer continued, pulling out his notebook, "for the sake of my ultimate goal, I've completed a hundred and three steps of varying difficulty. From the simplest 'Learn a barre chord' to 'Run away from my adoptive parents'. I could still come to terms with Yort leaving us after Beacon, but if you leave us, Madge, I'll be very sad."
"But what if I don't want to just perform at concerts and play the synthesizer? What if I want to be a Huntress?"
"Like I said—I'll be very sad. But I won't try to hold you back; bitter experience has taught me that's a bad idea..."
"Holy shit, it's evolving," Yort marveled, crunching another chip. "Just a lil' bit more and you'll stop buggin' everyone with your friendship."
Magenta pondered Egrer's words. She clearly didn't want to upset anyone—such was her sensitive nature—so no one doubted what her answer would be. But the whole pack already knew she hadn't even seriously considered a Huntsman career. This was Magenta, the quintessence of primal chaos and chance. Yesterday she wanted to be a musician, today a Huntress, tomorrow she'll enlist in the military, so that the day after tomorrow she can get married and become a housewife. It all depends on how the cards fall.
Plus, Egrer had deliberately framed his speech so she would feel guilty. He might not be able to lie or hide something from a direct question, but that didn't make him guileless by any means. He even felt a little guilty himself over such a devious trick.
But he really would be extremely sad. At this rate, the only ones left in their music gang would be him and Illmond, who hadn't been interested in music for a long time...
"But I wanna be a Huntress..." Magenta whimpered. "Don't make me choose."
"I'm not forcing you, I'm just saying I'll be very sad. Ill will probably be upset too."
"Don't drag me into your mind games, you dirty manipulator," the hikki snapped. "Madge, if you really want to be a Huntress, you have to start studying. Start seriously. Or you'll die on your very first mission."
"I'm ready for any challenges!" Magenta saluted. "Yort, pump me full of your asteroids! Pump me up to the max!"
Yort choked on his chips. He weighed something in his tired head and used his Semblance, which was clearly evident from his elongated face. After which he counted something on his fingers, inspecting Magenta's figure.
"Nah, I mean, I could def set up a routine for ya, but I'm a pretty wack trainer. I'll ask Mr. Shalibi to give ya a couple tips, but you'll end up either dead or turning into a female bodybuilder. Them terms cool with you?"
"Ready for any challenges!" she repeated.
Egrer rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. He was sick of watching this blatant circus.
"Come on, you can't be serious? Remember who you're talking to, it's Madge! She'll forget all about it by tomorrow."
"No I won't!" Magenta protested.
"You will."
"Won't."
"Will."
"Won't."
"Wi... I'm not playing this childish game," Egrer waved his hand. "I know I'm right, and I'm not gonna bicker for no reason. And anyway, I'm going to sleep. Turning in early today, we've got plans with the union tomorrow. Good night."
***
"Don't split up," Egrer shushed them, holding a flashlight in his hand.
The narrow beam of light swept over a pile of junk and slowly moved on. The legs of tables stacked on top of each other reached toward them like the hands of corpses, and the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling grabbed at their hair and stuck unpleasantly to their faces. A thick layer of dust rose wherever a union member's foot fell, triggering fits of sneezing in the one bringing up the rear.
No one had cleaned here in years. And what was the point, if this place merely served as a storage room for useless things that were just a pity to throw away? What if this cracked tea set could still be of service to someone? Or that scarecrow over there? Or the pile of torn-off buttons lying neatly on a torn nightgown?
In the worst-case scenario, all of this could be thrown into the fireplace if the heating suddenly broke down, and a sense of aesthetics wouldn't allow chopping down the garden trees for firewood.
Only through an incredible effort of will had Egrer not yet fled this filthy, god-forsaken place. Not only that—he was stepping into the unknown first, to give the others courage. During winter, the strongest wolf always leads the pack to forge a path in the snow for the weaker members. It was his duty as the strong one.
And so it was primarily Egrer who was subjected to the most terrifying shocks, whenever a web of spider silk hit his face or something slippery, like a balloon deflated many years ago, ended up under his foot. This place didn't give a damn that he was a Faunus and could see perfectly in the dark; it would throw something unexpected at him anyway.
The flashlight's beam glided across the floor and lingered on the motionless skeleton of a cat.
"Kitty..." Nora sniffled. Her hand trembled, and the flashlight's beam began darting erratically around the area. "I can't be in this place anymore. It's scary, dark, and cold here."
Ren wrapped an arm around his friend, and together they walked on. Supporting each other in a difficult moment, they shared their strength for the next step.
"We'll stop here for now," Egrer commanded, wiping his face. "Maybe the fireworks are at least somewhere around here. Split into pairs: Nora with Ren, Weiss with Jaune, Madge with me, don't wander far. Report any remotely useful finds."
With a brief nod, the union dispersed across the area. Only beams of light, occasionally pointing upwards, gave a rough idea of who was where.
When they first descended into Headmaster Ozpin's basement, they ran out ten minutes later with shrieks and screams. The second time, they accidentally caused an avalanche of slate, which lay in a multi-meter pile against the far wall. The third time, they got lost in the numerous passages made of old furniture, clothes, and building materials left over from Beacon's construction...
But with mistakes came experience. Now they were like seasoned adventurers from some video game exploring yet another dungeon. Their actions were honed, strategies formulated, and instances of repeat cave-ins or aimless wandering reduced to a minimum.
It had only taken them seventeen attempts to get there. Big deal, so what if they wasted a whole day just because no one was ever going to fix the lamps in the basement, and Goodwitch had held back on the budget? They had to rely solely on dim flashlights.
Ozpin's only directive was simple—do not approach the mysterious glowing capsule at the other end of the hall. A much cleaner end of the hall, it's worth noting. A janitor clearly visits there sometimes, unlike these parts.
"AAAHHH!!" a heart-rending girlish shriek rang out from behind. Egrer and Magenta immediately rushed to help, vaulting over four washing machines stacked on top of one another.
'Did The Puppeteer already kill someone?! I shouldn't have dropped my guard like this, I gotta call Blake and Sun down here ASAP!'
"It wasn't me," Weiss immediately crossed herself out, pointing a finger toward Jaune.
The poor guy clutched his chest, breathing heavily, staring unblinkingly at the smiling face of a golden lemur statue. From that angle and with that lighting, it really did look creepy enough to warrant screaming in terror.
Magenta began stroking Jaune's head and trying to soothe him in every way possible. Egrer, meanwhile, surveyed the surroundings.
Nearby sat an incomprehensible mishmash of rings and mechanisms, in which he instantly recognized Ozpin's team-forming Wheel. Written on the rings were "Yoga," "Awesome," "Avoidance," and "Ego," and overlapping in various places, they formed the notorious "Egzbetsgam," in which the headmaster had somehow read Exhibitionism back then.
He was distracted from these unpleasant memories by Nora's voice.
"Found 'em! There's six whole boxes here packed with fireworks!"
"Great haul!" Egrer immediately ran toward the sound. Several beams illuminated the treasure they had poured out so much sweat for. "We're gonna set off a fireworks show no one will ever forget."
"The main thing is not to overdo it," Weiss noted. "I would not want the union to be shut down like the music club. At least not in the near future."
"Six boxes. That's one for each of us," Jaune pointed out, sizing up the load.
"Be a gentleman, carry mine for me," Weiss requested.
"I'll do so with the greatest pleasure, my snow angel!"
"Hold up, hold up," Egrer shook his head. "What kind of gender stereotypes are these in our enlightened age? Just because you're a girl doesn't mean you can't carry heavy things. Consider it a workout, you're a future Huntress after all! And Jaune, don't be such a simp. You're carrying my box."
"On what grounds are you allowed to exploit his spinelessness, but I am not?!"
"Hey! I'm still here, actually," Jaune noted quietly.
"As your leader, I will illuminate the way back," the General Secretary waved his flashlight around, accidentally shining the beam right into Magenta's eye. "So stop complaining."
"You are, in fact, a Faunus, so it would be better to give that role to a human. While you and Magenta will carry your boxes at the back of the group, not fearing accidentally tripping in the dark. That will be more efficient."
"Weiss..." Egrer said, appalled. "I thought we'd already moved past this conversation... Did you start despising Faunus and viewing us as cheap labor again?"
"What?! No! I meant something completely different, do not play the fool!"
"I'm disappointed in you. Has the union truly become a home for racists, sexists, and flat-out capitalists?" The betrayed General Secretary crossed his arms over his chest. After which he stopped fooling around. "Let's not dilly-dally, grab a box each and march to fresh air! I ain't got the strength to stay in this crypt anymore."
And, without waiting for the others to get ready, he trudged toward the exit. Weiss was forced to submit to his decision.
'Ah, just like the good old days!' Egrer smiled, pleased with his victory. 'Good thing I brought her back to the union!'
The path to freedom was thorny and difficult; incredible dangers lay in wait for them at every turn. A procession of freshmen stepped carefully through the world's largest warehouse of useless things, guided by only a single flashlight.
As befits a true wolf pack leader, Egrer dutifully led his pack forward, meeting all impending challenges head-on.
And solely thanks to his incredible intellect, cunning, resourcefulness, and bravery, they were able to return to the lightbulb by the elevator without even losing anyone in the process. Although Magenta had tried to wander off the wrong way a couple of times, Ren, walking beside her, called her back in time.
"Headmaster, we're done," Egrer said into the microphone on the wall.
"Excellent." The elevator doors slid open and the union started loading the boxes inside. "To be honest, I was beginning to doubt whether the preparations for the ball were worth such electricity costs for running the elevator back and forth."
"It's a shame the dining set wasn't here, though..."
"It is not a shame," Weiss grumbled, dusting off her hands and school uniform. "One must buy new tableware for every festivity. There is no need to use all sorts of dusty old junk."
"If you please, Miss Schnee," Ozpin chimed in. "The dining set lost somewhere down there is very dear to my heart. Otherwise I wouldn't have hidden it in the safest place in the world, wouldn't you agree?"
Somehow squeezing their whole crowd into the elevator, they finally emerged into God's light.
"The sun!" Magenta cried out, pointing a finger towards the window. "It glows! If only we had a contraption like that for the basement. A huge lantern right in the sky, just think about it."
"Madge, it's always been there," Egrer pointed out.
"Yeah, I know. It's just that I only just realized how abnormal a thing like that is... A giant ball of burning gas that's been burning for billions of years and will keep burning for just as long. And at such a huge distance, too, that it takes light a whole eight minutes just to reach us. Crazy, isn't it?"
"Well, if you approach the question from that angle..." Egrer mumbled uncertainly, squinting at the luminary. He hadn't really given such things any thought.
"You do whatever you want," Weiss suddenly said, "but I am going to the shower, to comb the cobwebs out of my hair."
"Hey, what about hauling the fireworks to the ballroom?" the General Secretary was indignant. He, too, wanted oh so badly to finish everything quickly and go wash up, but duty first!
"Jaune, be so kind," she waved her hand dismissively, without even stopping.
"I'll have it done perfectly, my snow angel." Jaune unquestioningly lifted two boxes of fireworks and stood with a contented smile, waiting for further orders from Egrer.
He only sighed and also picked up one box, after which the slightly thinned-out union moved forward.
"Jaune, here's some advice for you: you don't need to jump the gun and do everything she wants right away," shared the wisdom of the Professor of Weissology. "Maybe it seems to you that you're pleasing her, but for her, there is nothing unusual about people obeying her. On the contrary, if you talk back and act defiant, that's how you'll manage to catch her attention."
"Things are so complicated with her."
"You'd better believe it," Egrer chuckled. "And by the way, no one's keeping you in the union anymore. There are already six of us, so if you leave, our club won't be disbanded."
"What're you talking about, Eg? I'll gladly stay in Enversion."
"And what happened to 'I have no time, I work, I study, I train'?" Egrer, with a mischievous smile, recalled Jaune's excuses from when he was being forcibly recruited into the union.
"Well... Now Weiss is here. So I can both help you guys and pursue her. And by the way, I'm making progress in that area! It's the first time she's decided to accept my help."
"I honestly don't know if she actually showed her favor that way, or just decided that since you stick to her like glue anyway, she might as well use you."
"But that's progress, admit it."
"Yeah. In a sense, it really is."
"Did she happen to find a replacement for Neptune, by any chance? She's had plenty of time."
"She hasn't even started," Egrer replied thoughtfully. "But you'd better hurry just in case..."
They discussed ways to approach Weiss all the way to the ballroom. After which Jaune took his leave and said that he'd have training with Pyrrha soon.
Egrer dusted off his hands and locked the utility closet door with the key, hiding it in the inside pocket of his jacket. He wouldn't dream of leaving six boxes of such precious cargo freely accessible, especially considering that the two craziest girls in Beacon were standing right nearby. Their eyes practically screamed, "We wanna blow things up, and right now!"
"So, you are helping him win Weiss's favor?" Ren asked suddenly. "But aren't you yourself~"
"How many times do I have to repeat it to you guys?! No, I'm not dating her! Or do you think that friendship between a boy and a girl is impossible and everything always devolves into romance? It was precisely your sidelong glances and Yang's little jokes that forced me into this!"
"Are you sure you should go to such extremes?" Ren asked, maintaining complete composure. "What I mean is, Jaune is entirely unsuited for Weiss and that this is... not exactly your business. Let them sort it out themselves; there is no need to interfere in other people's relationships."
"Look, I'm driven by completely selfish desires here—I just want all these rumors at Beacon about my relationship with Weiss to die out. And there's only one way to achieve that—if she finds herself a boyfriend. And since Jaune wants to ruin his own life so badly, the Twin Gods themselves commanded me to help him."
"But what if you find yourself a girlfriend?" Nora found an alternative. "Like Madge! She's such a cutie, just look at those cheeks!"
And with those words, she started squishing the face of a blushing Magenta, who fruitlessly tried to respond with something.
"First of all—I am entirely uninterested in that right now," Egrer noted neutrally. "Secondly—Madge happens to be an example of friendship between the sexes without devolving into romance. And anyway, first I've gotta build a successful career as a famous musician. And you, Ren, should follow your own advice. Don't butt into our business."
"Their relationship has no future."
"I know. Jaune just needs to hold hands with Weiss in public for a while. I don't need anything more than that."
Egrer narrowed his eyes. For some reason, it seemed to him that Ren hadn't decided to inquire about this matter out of idle curiosity. He wasn't the type of person who would stick his nose into such a tangled ball of passion and intrigue.
"I think it is time we parted ways," Ren said calmly, never taking his eyes off him. "It is late."
"We'll meet up earlier tomorrow," Egrer replied in the same tone.
"But what about my training?" Magenta chimed in. "Yort already signed me up for the weightlifting club! And Ill promised to help with all sorts of Dust tricks."
Egrer turned to her and slightly raised an eyebrow. He found it hard to believe that she really remembered anything from her promises yesterday to become a real Huntress.
"You'll forget all about it by tomorrow," he said simply, walking away.
"You said the same thing yesterday. I won't forget anything!"
"You will."
"Won't."
"Will."
"Won't."
Meanwhile, Nora and Ren, who had already left, began to whisper.
"What are we going to do?" Ren asked. "Eg will not back down so easily."
"Jaune has to go to the dance with Pyrrha," Nora replied firmly. "So we're going to take action, and we're going to be tough about it."
"There's barely any time left before the dance. We must hurry."
***
The union in its entirety was preparing for the upcoming ball.
The extensive shopping list of necessary items was checked three times by Goodwitch herself, approved at a teachers' meeting, and authorized by Headmaster Ozpin. And the very next day, everything they needed arrived.
The active phase of preparations commenced. Their club was excused from classes, so they could dedicate all their time for the benefit of the upcoming festivity. And also take a break from tedious lessons, of course. Even Weiss was glad to take advantage of the provided reprieve.
The general plan had been laid out, so problems arose only in certain minor details, which were resolved with a couple of minutes of brainstorming. Step by step, the ballroom was transforming into something presentable: tables were set up, ribbons hung, and floors washed. The entire space became much more beautiful, and every member of Enversion felt genuine pride that this was the work of their hands.
Goodwitch was also present. She still hadn't uttered a single word, but her formidable figure loomed over them, making them doubt the correctness of some decisions. They constantly cast sideways glances at her, conducting all conversations so she wouldn't hear.
The Steel Lady ostensibly wasn't doing anything, but her mere presence was enough to force them to bend to her will. Obviously, she couldn't trust them with preparing for such an important event, but tradition forbade her from interfering directly. And even the fact that she oversaw the ball's preparation simultaneously as Enversion's supervisor and as the Deputy Headmistress didn't grant her any authority.
Though the word "oversaw" wasn't quite accurate... Let's just say she persistently recommended certain decisions without saying a single word; however, no sanctions would follow for brazenly ignoring her. Well, other than the displeasure of Goodwitch herself, of course. And it was exactly the unwillingness to upset her that served as the incentive causing them to occasionally accept her silent advice.
In short, she was the unofficially official warden.
"Help me choose a tablecloth," Weiss requested, handing Egrer two square fabric swatches. He examined them from all sides, carefully felt them, and delivered his verdict:
"They're exactly the same." After which he went back to writing thoughtfully in his notebook, sitting on the stage.
"Why do I even bother asking you?" she rolled her eyes. "What are you even doing right now?"
"Overseeing the ball prep process. Oh, and writing a song that I'm gonna play at this very ball."
"You are not planning to turn the entire thing into a concert and dedicate it to yourself, are you?"
"I'm physically incapable of writing enough songs by tomorrow to fill up a couple of hours. I'll sing once, then others will perform, and after that we'll listen to the classics."
"I did not expect that from you." Weiss gave an appreciative nod.
"Classic rock," Egrer clarified.
"No. Absolutely not. This is a ball, in case you had forgotten."
"I remember it all," he brushed her off, planting an empty stare on the rhymed lines. It seemed some important thought had just slipped his mind... "Like, during the dancing there'll be all sorts of waltzes and salsas playing, and then I'll play, along with a couple other musicians, we've already ironed it all out. But towards the end everyone's gonna be tired, so we'll put on some music for the soul."
"Since when did rock become music for the soul?"
"Since they invented it, obviously," Egrer shrugged, trying to catch the escaped thought. "Don't distract me, I'm busy right now. Alright... devilish circle... devilish circle... Ah! The devilish circle of mutual pursuits will be sealed by hot blood! What a beautiful rhyme, I amaze even myself."
"Do not ignore me!"
"And don't get in the way of my creative process," Egrer shot back rather rudely. "I gave you my opinion on the tablecloth, so go find yourself something else to do. Shoo, get busy with actual work."
"Hey," Nora broke into the budding argument, "maybe we'd be better off blasting something more modern?"
"How is rock not modern, damn you? It's literally a synonym for 'Stylish,' 'Trendy,' 'Youthful'. You can't imagine a more modern genre."
"Well, maybe like ten years ago, yeah, but now it's kinda... getting a bit dated."
"Rock will never get dated! Rock lived, rock lives, rock will live forever!"
"It is classical music that will forever live on," Weiss stated with a self-important air. "And it is indeed living! Your beloved rock will not stand the test of time; it is already losing ground."
"How could you say something like that?!" Egrer was horrified, jabbing an accusing finger at her. "There was an electric guitar in your songs! You have no moral right to say such terrible things!"
"And? Does an electric guitar automatically induct me into the ranks of rockers?"
"Hey, hey," Magenta poked her multicolored head between them too. "Let's just walk around and ask people. We have to make a party for everyone, not just for ourselves."
Weiss and Egrer exchanged a disgruntled glance, but the idea actually seemed sound. In the very next second they armed themselves with a notepad and pen, after which they set off for different parts of Beacon.
"Tarzan, have you completely lost it?" Hat twirled a finger at his temple. "Have you still not visited Gunner? Unless you wanna lose Tarzan Jr., choose club music. Fashion Police gets hysterical over any kind of rock, let alone classical. But if you want my opinion, I listen to everything. I don't really have a defined taste."
Since he listens to everything, Egrer jotted him down in the rock column. Because not all music is rock, but all rock is music. And he didn't even write down Fashion Police. From the sounds of it, she wouldn't be returning to Beacon until after the ball anyway.
"Anime openings," Illmond suggested. "I highly recommend picking some from 'Mistral Ghoul' and 'Attack on Leviathans'; they're absolute masterpieces of musical art!"
Egrer just kept walking.
"Everyone's gonna be exhausted after the dancing," Yang noted. "So it'd be best to throw on something a bit more mellow. Doesn't matter what genre, just something nice to listen to."
Obviously, rock fit the bill perfectly. It had both driving tracks and soothing ones.
"Melicent Dunkle," Pyrrha named a pop singer. "She has good songs. We could go with 'Hail' or 'Morning Frost'. I think these songs would be perfect for the end of the ball, when everyone pairs off."
With a heavy heart, Egrer wrote the first name into a column other than rock.
"Why don't you occupy yourself with real work?" an exhausted Blake asked. "The enemies aren't resting, and while you're busy with this idiotic ball, The Puppeteer is spinning Her webs."
After collecting the necessary statistics, Egrer returned to the ballroom, shooing away a couple of slackers peeking at Enversion's work along the way. The closer the ball got, the more rubberneckers wanted to watch them work, or just lay flowers at the door for their souls. The union was equally annoyed by both.
Judging by the face of Weiss, who was already there, Beacon did not share her musical tastes in the slightest.
"Lack of culture," she grumbled, scrubbing a table to a shine. She had clearly decided to lose herself in work for a while. "Idiots. How can anyone even listen to this? Who even came up with this so-called genre?"
Her notepad lay next to her, and Egrer couldn't resist the urge to peek inside.
"Hip-hop, disco-pop, post-disco, boogie, funk..."
"How many times have I asked you not to sneak up on me!" Weiss shrieked in fright.
"...Seems like there are more of these genres than unneutered dogs," Egrer remarked, ignoring her angry tone. However, a satisfied smile at this mischief still broke through. "How are we even supposed to pick the music to satisfy the majority?"
"You... you..." She clearly wanted to say something biting, but Goodwitch's presence nearby quickly cooled her down. "We are putting on pop, and that is final."
"No."
"It is the only way out. Pop music did not get that name for no reason—it is popular with the majority."
"With a majority of dumb sheep who are just too lazy to think about serious themes!"
"You shouldn't treat people worse simply because they have different musical tastes."
"Did you seriously just say something politically correct?" Egrer was genuinely surprised. "Who are you and what have you done with my good old pain in the ass Weiss?"
"I have simply resigned myself to this necessary measure. I advise you to do exactly the same. And I am not a pain in the ass!"
"By the way, my research showed that the majority of those surveyed specifically like rock."
Weiss peeked into his notepad and shook her head.
"It is obvious that you bent their desires to fit your own paradigm, so this is no research at all. A researcher must be impartial. And here I see such a blatant falsification of votes that even the Vacuo council would not dare attempt."
"Oh, what do you know."
"In politics, believe me, more than you. As well as in music, by the way. Therefore, listen to me and do not argue."
"SSGS, you seem to be forgetting yourself," Egrer began in a strict voice. Weiss let out a little "oh"; she really had forgotten that she was no longer the general secretary. "The final say will still remain with me. I will listen to your advice, but there's no need to act like we won't be able to do anything without you. Remember—no one is irreplaceable."
"You said the exact opposite recently," Weiss found something to nitpick. "What happened to 'Personnel dictates everything'?"
"Those were different times."
"That literally happened a couple of days ago."
"Don't wanna hear it, I've got inspiration." Egrer made a shooing motion with his hand and went back to writing his song. "Go work."
"Unlike you, I actually am working! Do not try to dodge the question—we still have not decided what to play after the active phase of the ball."
"I already said, rock."
"Will people not get tired of listening to the exact same thing?"
"I can tell right away that you don't understand the phenomenon of rock at all." Egrer shook his head, opening his notebook. "Rock is the music of freedom, it has no clear boundaries. Want something lighter? Art rock is your choice. Want something new? Glam fits the bill perfectly. If you want to be mind-blown by the player's skills, ask them to play power. And I think even you are familiar with metal and hard. Hell, rock even has subgenres like trip, kraut, and math rock. Math-fucking-rock! Where else have you seen such variety?"
"I have no intention of watching you ruin this festivity." Weiss didn't look impressed by his speech in the slightest. She wasn't about to give up, deliberately speaking the following loudly: "I propose we take a vote!"
"Electro!" Magenta yelled, almost tumbling off a ladder and nearly dragging the freshly hung curtains down with her.
"Hip-hop!" Nora yelled, single-handedly continuing to haul heavy furniture like ten-person tables and massive speakers.
"I'll abstain," stated Ren, who had been setting up the musical equipment behind the stage all this time.
"I vote for whatever Weiss votes for!" Jaune's voice drifted down from the second floor.
"Hah!" The Secretary to the Secretary of the General Secretary bared her teeth in satisfaction. "Two for classical, the rest of the votes are divided. This signifies my victory."
"Hey, I insist on a runoff! Two against four is not an absolute majority, it's relative. And anyway, the first-past-the-post voting system is the absolute worst."
"Such big words you know," Weiss smirked condescendingly.
"You bet! My pop used to trash talk politicos all the time, and he explained to me every time how they fool the common folk. And you're doing the exact same thing!"
"So what voting system do you consider best? True democracy is a myth; no matter what method of counting votes people invent, there will be loopholes in every single one."
"Exactly," Egrer smiled ominously. Weiss had just backed herself into a corner, but she hadn't realized it yet. "And since democracy is a myth, society can only be saved by a dictatorship. A dictatorship of the proletariat, of course. And how lucky that I'm the general secretary here."
"You would not dare..."
"From now on, I don't even wanna hear about any votes. All decisions will be made by me personally, and they are not up for discussion. Or else I will take measures..."
"That is unjust! We are this very proletariat; we are all part of a united society. You cannot force and threaten us into doing what you dictate. Just because you occupy a high post does not a priori mean you possess greater rights! It is we, those by whose hands you implement your ideas, who are the true power. And if we so desire, we will elect a new general secretary for ourselves, or simply walk away."
"Y'know, if Blake was here, she would've hugged you right now," Egrer uttered thoughtfully. "Just be honest, are these your actual views, or do you just wanna push me out?"
"Undoubtedly the latter." Weiss looked as if she were ready to take offense.
"Awesome. Because your dad would've been really surprised if an ardent follower of planned economies and Maxist-Levinst ideas came to replace him."
"Yes, that would be rather awkward."
They were distracted by a tactful cough from Goodwitch. Those were the first sounds she had made this entire time.
"It seems to me your argument has drifted too far from the initially discussed topic. And I remind you that all preparations must be concluded by this evening."
And here Weiss opted to play downright dirty.
"Miss Goodwitch, tell him that pop music is the best option available. Not as good as classical, naturally, but nowhere near as awful as rock."
"My opinion means nothing here," Goodwitch replied in the kind of tone that implied a certain "But." "But if this option satisfies the majority, then I will, in fact, express my approval."
With these words, the Steel Lady literally said the following: "If you choose anything else, I will be disappointed." And no one wanted to disappoint her.
"Weiss, that was incredibly low," Egrer whispered. "Did you really want to beat me in an argument so badly that you sacrificed absolutely all other musical genres? Including your precious classical, by the way."
"You forced my hand into taking such a desperate measure when you decided to instate a dictatorship." She shrugged innocently. "But unlike you, I am willing to compromise my own tastes for the overall success of the event. Stop acting so selfish, Egrer."
"Look who's talking, Ms. Altruist."
Pleased with herself, Weiss walked away. Egrer, meanwhile, planted a vacant stare into his notebook. The mood for songwriting was irrevocably lost, as was the desire to engage in it on principle. Having nothing better to do, the General Secretary decided to finally attend to his direct duties.
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he first decided to check how everyone else's work was coming along. Having the boss nearby made the subordinates tense up a little, even despite the fact that they were all peers, and Egrer hadn't pestered anyone even once yet. He wasn't Weiss, after all.
Magenta had already finished hanging the curtains on the windows and was now actively busy with balloons, flags, and the like. Nora was helping her. Right now, they were inflating balloons with helium and tying them in absolutely random places, not caring in the slightest about how it looked from the outside or about symmetry. He had to boss them around a little so that one half of the hall didn't end up packed to the brim with decorations while the other half sat empty.
Ren was checking the functionality of the concert tech. He plugged in the available microphones one by one, tapped them with a finger, and if the sound successfully came out of the speakers, he set them aside nearby.
However, he had to correct him slightly, because Ren had dumped the instrumental, vocal, and drum mics into one common pile. Egrer didn't bother going into the details of what the difference between them actually was, but he showed how to tell one from another. After which he assured him that he'd figure out the mixing console and combo amps himself, but a little later.
It'd also be worth setting up everything necessary in the small room behind the stage. It had been repurposed into a music hub, from where the sound and certain effects would be managed, but so far no one had even bothered with the basic task of loading ballroom music onto the computer.
Jaune was setting up flower pots on the second floor. The plan was to place just a couple of tables and sofas here, where students worn out from dancing could simply watch those below, so there wasn't much work. Perfect for the perpetually busy Jaune.
Surprisingly, the clumsiest member of Enversion hadn't messed up anywhere and had already almost finished his job. All that remained was to praise him.
"Jau-a-aune!" Nora's voice rang out. "Pyrrha is here to see you!"
"Huh?" he uttered in bewilderment. "Well... mind if I step away for a minute?"
"Sure," Egrer nodded, also starting to head down the stairs.
After all, he was the leader of Enversion, and Pyrrha had entered territory under his control. This meant that he, as a worthy master of the lands entrusted to him, was obligated to greet the guest personally.
"Hi, guys," the champion gave a little wave with her palm. In her other hand she carried a food container holding a couple of sandwiches, which she handed to a cheered-up Jaune.
"Gimme a bite!" Nora immediately swooped in on him like a vulture, followed closely by Magenta.
"Me too!"
"I'm sorry, I somehow didn't think to make enough for everyone." Pyrrha smiled apologetically.
"Alright, settle down," Egrer pushed the beggars away. "These are for Jaune, not you. Go get back to work, slackers."
When the two disgruntled girls backed away, Egrer carefully examined the sandwich. Juicy, delicious, with tomatoes, ham, and ketchup, sprinkled with dill on top. His mouth watered.
"Let me grab a little bite, huh? Just a half..." Jaune didn't dare refuse, even though the words "little" and "half" clearly conflicted with each other.
"How are the preparations?" Pyrrha asked, examining the ballroom.
"Actually, according to the rules we're not supposed to answer you, and strictly speaking, we ought to kick you out," Egrer noted. However, very soon he remembered that standing before him was not just some random girl, but motherfucking Pyrrha Nikos herself. "But for such a tasty sandwich I'll gladly answer all your questions! Yummy!"
"Made with love," she smiled, while a distance away Magenta and Nora were inflating balloons with helium and scowling displeasedly. They were whispering and evidently discussing either some mischief or their next piece of craziness. "I was just asking out of curiosity; if you aren't allowed to tell me, then don't."
"Nah, it's all good," Jaune said, "we'll wrap up today, and let loose tomorrow night."
"By the way, Jaune," Pyrrha began, "Do you have a partner for the dance yet?"
Egrer choked on the sandwich. The hint was so obvious that only Jaune could fail to notice it.
"I tried inviting Weiss again today, but she dodged the question again. I think she's just shy."
Egrer began to choke even harder.
"Have you tried simply telling her about your feelings? Have you said that you... well, like her?"
"I thought it was obvious, since I'm always hovering around her," Jaune replied thoughtfully. He had clearly started reviewing all his displays of attention towards Weiss in his mind.
"Damn." Egrer coughed and thumped his chest a couple of times. "You seriously haven't told her such a basic thing? Still?"
"These sorts of things should be spoken directly and immediately," Pyrrha nodded.
"Hey, that's super embarrassing, by the way! But I'll try, thanks for the advice, Pyrrha." Jaune got fired up. "I need to prepare. I think I'll have a better chance with flowers... Eg, what kind does she like?"
"I have no clue, never really bothered asking. But since she likes blue, buy her blue flowers."
"Right, got it. Thank you guys so much, what would I do without you?"
Suffer from unrequited love, obviously. Though it was already unrequited anyway, and judging by the entry of a fourth participant into this gripping saga, Jaune wouldn't be the only one disappointed in life. An additional headache for Egrer and Illmond, who now had to factor a new variable into their plans. However, with a compliant Pyrrha, it was unlikely that major difficulties would arise...
But it was highly unexpected. Could it be that Pyrrha's maternal instinct had blossomed into something more? She always took care of Jaune—tutoring him, chasing off bullies, and now even making a sandwich. Hell with the sandwich! A couple of seconds ago she'd given him solid advice on how to win Weiss over. She had helped a direct competitor!
He wanted to bash his head against the wall. This love polygon kept widening and widening.
'Right then,' Egrer started putting everything in order. 'We have Jaune, who's got a crush on Weiss, but Weiss ignores him. We have Weiss, who's got a crush on Neptune, but he started ignoring her after his talk with Jaune. And now we have Pyrrha, who's got a crush on Jaune, but he ignores her. Did I miss anything? Oh yeah, Jaune is being aided by a squad consisting of a Professor of Weissology and a cyber-heartthrob, which hasn't brought him an inch closer to his goal.'
Sounded like the premise for a romance novel where at the end, all the characters inevitably die tragically and nothing is ever resolved.
That comparison thoroughly terrified Egrer. Because if this epic dragged on even past the dance, he was simply going to strangle all the key players. So he had to do something.
"Jaune, drop to your knees in front of Weiss and start begging her to agree to go to the ball with you. Maybe she'll feel sorry for you and agree?"
"That is too much," Pyrrha shook her head, and Jaune, who was on the verge of nodding, immediately agreed with her. He pretended he hadn't even considered the suggestion, and said with feigned pride:
"You said she'd pay attention to me if I argued with her and showed character in every way. How can I show character if I'm groveling at her feet?"
"Fine, so have you argued with her and showed character then?" By Jaune's face it instantly became clear that he hadn't even tried. "Exactly. Then humiliate yourself, kiss her shoes and hope for her mercy. You gotta take a serious, major step, the dance is already tomorrow! Hurry up!"
"I could beat up Cardin again."
"You shouldn't," Pyrrha said gently. "That phase is already in the past, and she won't be impressed if you just do the same thing over again."
"That's true too. Then... do I really have to humiliate myself like that?"
Out of the corner of his eye, Egrer noticed Weiss already beginning to set the tableware on the tables. Being a good general secretary, he couldn't simply ignore his subordinate messing around with some nonsense on the last day of the Five-Year Plan.
"Weiss, what are you setting out the plates for? They'll be covered in dust by tomorrow!"
"Do you think I do not realize that? I am merely checking to see how it will all look; I will put them away afterward."
"Then why did you decide to do this on the last day?! We still have a ton of work, and the tableware isn't the highest priority!"
"The tableware is exactly the highest priority!"
"You have five minutes for this! And then hurry over to Madge and Nora before they inhale all the helium from the balloons!"
"Three will be plenty!" Weiss barked, slamming a goblet onto the table.
"Awesome then!" Egrer turned back to Jaune and cleared his throat. He pretended that no dressing-down from the boss had just occurred, and that they'd merely imagined the whole scene. "So, where did we leave off?"
Jaune was looking at Egrer with burning eyes.
"Teach me how to do that. To argue with her and show character, just like you did now."
"Uuuh... well, it just kinda happens for me. Just have your own opinion, and when it clashes with Weiss's, don't conform to hers."
"I will definitely try that."
And with those words he headed with a confident stride toward Weiss, who was still setting out goblets and plates. Egrer sighed heavily and mentally asked for her forgiveness. As usual, she suffered the most from his machinations.
"Alright, Pyrrha, I'm gonna go work." He waved a hand at her and turned around, but nearly bumped into Ren. "Ah! What are you sneaking around for? Wait, were you here the whole time?"
"Yes, I was waiting until you finished. I did not eavesdrop intentionally, forgive me."
"Don't do that again."
"It just kinda happens," he shrugged, gesturing to the two microphones in his hand. "Which type is this?"
Egrer returned to work, being simultaneously nowhere and next to everyone. He wanted the upcoming celebration to be chic, incredible, the best, and most importantly—unique. So that no one could ever arrange anything like it! So that everyone would remember it for the rest of their life!
Oh, and he also wanted Miss Goodwitch to leave here as soon as possible. And that could only be achieved by finishing all the work that had piled up over the twenty-four hours of sluggish rummaging through storage rooms and empty fantasizing. Perhaps he should have taken the festivity seriously a bit earlier, rather than on the very last day before submitting their work to the public's judgment. The habit of doing nothing and living stress-free had bitten him in the ass.
"By the way, will there be meat on the menu?" Magenta asked in a squeaky voice. Looks like she and Nora did inhale helium after all... The only question was whether those were leftovers in the tank, or if they quietly nabbed a couple of balloons.
"What meat?" Weiss expressed indignation. "This is a ball, actually. And our main activity will be dancing, not stuffing our bellies. The food will be light—various salads and appetizers." A profound despair appeared on Magenta's face at the prospect of chewing on greens all evening. "At most, we could get some shrimp..."
"But shrimp is fish... And I want meat!"
"Meat!" Nora yelled in a high-pitched little voice. She strained and tensed her throat, attempting to let out a menacing bear roar, but immediately fell victim to laughter when the result was a bat squeak.
"Shrimp is meat," Weiss explained. "It is seafood, of course, but it is not fish."
"So complicated," Magenta grumbled. "I thought that if something lives in the water, it's always a fish. Jaune, what do we have for food?"
"There'll be meat," answered the guy in charge of food and drinks, and the butterfly instantly let out a happy squeak that nearly went ultrasonic due to the helium that hadn't cleared from her lungs. "Weiss, why are you looking at me like that? Do you... want to eat me?"[1]
At that moment, Egrer felt the most profound shame. Whenever Jaune attempts pick-up lines, it's always dreadful; even an angered Weiss was seriously taken aback. However, she quickly collected herself.
"You idiot, do you have any idea what balls even look like?!"
Jaune scratched the back of his head and cast a fleeting glance at the Professor of Weissology, as if asking for his blessing or advice.
'Does he wanna show character right now?' Egrer guessed. Following which he began shaking his head very rapidly and crossed his arms in an 'X'.
"I don't, you're right..." Jaune said pacifyingly. "But it's too late to cancel, right?"
"You blockhead~"
"Easy, easy, let's not fight right now," Egrer calmed everyone down. "We shouldn't waste precious time squabbling, we still have a lot of work."
"And why is there so much of it, I wonder?" Weiss said caustically. "If a certain someone had not procrastinated right up until today, we would not have to do everything in a rush!"
"Hey, I was preparing for the party very diligently, by the way."
"Writing a song does not constitute preparing for the festivity, it is preparation for your performance at the festivity."
"Pretty much the exact same thing."
"So we sorted out the meat, what about alcohol?" chimed in a squeaky Nora with a wide smile.
"Nothing stronger than punch," Weiss cut her off. "What do you even want to turn the ball into? One demands meat, another demands vodka. Our 'Beloved leader' generally does not care about anything except his precious song!"
"Let's not have alcohol, please," Magenta pleaded, rubbing her temples as if experiencing phantom pain. "It gives me a headache."
The entire union fell silent and turned to her.
"Madge, have you tried alcohol?" Egrer asked, narrowing his eyes. For some reason, he was very afraid to hear the answer to that question.
"Medical rubbing alcohol, to be precise. Back when I was in the hospital."
Egrer couldn't find the words. No one could find the words. Silence reigned in the ballroom, and so all-encompassing was it that they could hear Goodwitch breathing at the other end of the hall.
"I just heard it helps with nerves." Magenta embarrassedly scuffed the floor with her foot. "Well... my nerves were acting up back then. It was a stupid idea, really..."
"Ahem, ahem," their unofficially official warden cleared her throat. "I remind you that time is pressing."
"Right, time to get back to work." Egrer nodded. It wasn't worth embarrassing Magenta further with their attention.
With great difficulty, Enversion nevertheless managed to finish preparations before midnight. All that remained was to wait for tomorrow evening and taste the fruits of their own labor.
Everyone waited with eager anticipation.
[1] (T/N:There's no way you just said that, bruh.)