The Bullhead rumbled as it met a bit of turbulence and Cinder had to firm her grip on the yoke to keep the vessel steady. Usually piloting would have been a plebeian task and something unworthy of a person like herself, but Salem had once insisted that she learn and she couldn’t fault her mistress’s logic on the matter.

Then she had discovered a certain love of the freedom and openness of the sky, one that had stuck to her even if she was loath to admit it to others. So, on occasion, she indulged herself by piloting a Bullhead to and from the Grimmlands or, as was the case that morning, flying towards an important destination.

Her meeting with the White Fang was going to be a tricky bit of business, but a simple one. She had something they wanted, they had something she wanted. Tit for tat. The most basic first-level manipulation.

Of course she was going to betray them later--loose ends could not be tolerated--but for now they would serve.

She also had her ace. Or perhaps joker would be the right card in this metaphor. She was a wild card, just as likely to bite her as be played straight and entirely unpredictable besides. But so far Akelarre had been on Salem’s side and seemed perfectly willing to tolerate Cinder.

She shuddered as she remembered Akelarre hugging her.

And then there was Akelarre’s little ‘date’ the day before. She could call it what she wanted, but Cinder had access to Akelarre’s accounts and saw the amount of lien she had lavished on her little friend. The little gold digger was probably using Akelarre’s innocence against her, but that was none of Cinder’s business. As long as Akelarre didn’t ask anything of the sort from her, she could sleep with as many small huntresses and criminals as she wanted to.

Of course, that didn’t exclude her responsibility to report all of that to Salem.

She shivered again.

“Are you okay? Is it cold?”

The Bullhead wobbled a little and this time she couldn’t blame it on turbulence. “I'm fine,” she told her guest. “This Bullhead isn’t as warm as I would like,” she said.

“Do you need me to hug you warmer?” Akelarre asked with obvious amusement.

Emerald’s squawk from the back of the vessel went entirely ignored.

“Please refrain from hugging me. Especially now. We’re going to meet the sort of people who wouldn’t look kindly upon shows of affection.”

Akelarre moved into the cabin and fell into the passenger seat. “Villains, you mean.”

“Some would call them that.”

“And what do they call themselves?” Akelarre asked. It was a surprisingly perceptive question.

“They call themselves freedom fighters, or defenders of their kind, or liberators.” Cinder sneered. “They’re misguided and foolish, but certain types are nonetheless attracted to their cause.”

“I think I know the sort,” Akelarre said. “And they’re all.... faunus, right?”

Cinder nodded. “Indeed.”

“So will they work with us? That kind of person usually shies away from working with the enemy unless there’s something big on the line.”

Cinder glanced at Akelarre for a moment then refocused on the world beyond the Bullhead. A forest filled with pink-hued trees was zipping by below. “We have some things to offer them, but there is always the option of using force to... persuade them. They would respect that. And then there’s you.”

“I don’t know. Keeping my identity hidden might be better,” she said.

“Too many people already know. Frankly, it’s a matter of time before the rumours spread out of control.”

“But rumours die down. And I think that in the grand scheme of things, time might actually be on my side. For once.”

Cinder did not sigh. It would do too much to give away her frustration. "Fine, then call it a favour. I need the White Fang, if only to use them as cannon fodder for Vale's police force and as a distraction for our targets. In fact, having them gallivanting around the city would serve you just as much as it would serve me."

Akelarre perked up and her happy-go-lucky attitude continued to mask that core of cunning that seemed to be surfacing more often. It was genuinely terrifying. “I’ll hide my swarm so that they don’t have to work hard to come out and then spook them,” Akelarre said.

She had to refocus because they were running out of forest below. A single red flare shot into the air and she wheeled the Bullhead around towards a clearing more than large enough to land her craft. People in white and black uniforms moved out of the way as she pulled a lever back to swivel her Bullhead’s engines around, then deployed the landing gear and spun up the Gravity Dust engine.

Grass and loose leaves took to the air as they coasted towards the ground, blasting away from the engine wash until the pneumatic hiss of the landing gear touching the ground filled the cabin and the Bullhead came to a rest.

The engines whirled to a stop and started ticking as they bled off heat.

“Masks on,” Akelarre said as she pulled up her hood and allowed its folds to cast a deep shadow over her face.

Cinder nodded as she unbuckled herself and joined her subordinates in the back of the Bullhead. Emerald and Mercury were already waiting by the door for her, ready to flank whoever led them out.

She tapped the door release and waited as a ramp lowered itself enough that she could start moving out, emerald to her right, Mercury to her left, and Akelarre wherever she wanted to be.

A broadshoudlered man in the typical White Fang regalia waited at the base of the landing ramp, mask tilted back to watch them descend. “You’re Cinder Fall?” he asked.

“I am,” she said. “Where is Mister Taurus?”

“This way, human,” he said, the word almost a jeer.

She noticed Akelarre giving him an odd look but the Princess didn’t say anything, she just followed after them into the woods.

Tents were pitched here and there, with small half-buried campfires left dead next to camping gear and racks of equipment made of branches and twine. It was the farthest thing from a permanent camp she had ever seen, the kind of thing that they could strike up overnight and depart just as quickly.

They garnered plenty of hostile looks as they crossed the camp and walked over to a large tent hidden in another copse of trees. A tall man in a black coat with what looked like red filigree on one side was waiting for them, his hair swept back and a slitted-mask on his face.

“So many people with masks,” Akelarre said. “It’s making me nostalgic.”

The man who could only be Adam Torus, stepped up, one hand on the hilt of his sword. “You’re Cinder?” he asked.

“I am,” she said.

“Hrm. Come.” Turning, he lead the way into the tent through one of the side walls that had been rolled up. A few chairs and a desk waited within, along with a map of Vale that had been pinned to the far wall.

He spun around and stared at Cinder, then at her companions. “You could have gone to anyone for help. You could have made a deal with a... gang leader, paid off some huntsmen that strayed from their righteous path. But instead you choose to seek an audience with me,” Adam said as he paced.

She smiled. “You’re the one we need. Your skill, your ability to lead those beneath you. You’re an exceptionally valuable man, Adam, and we have put a lot of thought into--”

“Then you’re clearly not thinking.” He waved away what she had been saying, then pointed towards her face. “The White Fang is not an organization for hire! We're a force of revolution!”

Cinder narrowed her eyes for a moment. She needed these animals to further her goals. There were other ways to get them to work for her, but the faster they moved the faster she could start getting results. “I won’t deny you your revolution,” she said, each word careful and measured. “We are working on a revolution of our own. We both have things that the other can use.”

“Tch,” he spat. “The only thing you want are my men. You want them to die for a cause that isn’t--”

Adam stopped when a giggle interrupted him. His head turned towards Akelarre who brought up a hand, her normal hand, to cover her mouth. “Sorry, didn’t mean to cut you off,” she said. “Do go on.”

He made a low sound in the back of his throat, a sort of growl. “You think this is funny, human?”

Akelarre tilted her head to one side like a puppy that didn’t understand. “A little? But like I said, I’m sorry. This is Cinder’s show, I shouldn’t interrupt. Not unless she wants me to?”

The last question was directed to her. Cinder gave it a moment’s thought. Her flattery had fallen short and Adam didn’t seem all that interested in dealing in good faith. He was reputed to be strong, stronger maybe than herself. And sometimes the only thing the strong respected were those on their level.

Wild cards were meant to be played. “Of course, ma’am, interrupt away. I wouldn’t want your questions to go unanswered.”

Akelarre grinned at her before turning her innocent smile towards Adam. “Is that a Grimm mask?” she asked the man.

He seemed taken aback for a moment, then touched the mask in question. “What does it matter to you, human?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not, actually. And I’m just curious about the mask. I can understand hiding your identity, but just about every person in this camp is wearing a white mask with Grimm markings in it. Or, well, meaningless red scribbles, but it’s close enough.”

“Meaningless?” he hissed. “Humanity wanted to make monsters out of us, so we wear the faces of monsters.” He stepped right up to Akelarre and looked down at her. “You’re the ones who called us beasts.”

“Okay, so a few corrections then,” Akelarre said with a chirpy tone that sounded just a little false to Cinder. Then she heard a muffled scream from far away outside the tent. Adam didn’t seem to notice, but one of his guards perked up, the dog ears above his head twisting towards the sound. “First of all,” Akelarre began. “The red markings come with the age and power of the Grimm. They’re kind of like a mix of tree rings and those spots on the backs of poisonous animals. They actually follow a set pattern if you pay attention. Yours for example say that you’re young and poisonous.”

“What?” Adam asked.

“And second, I never called anyone on Remnant a beast. That would be rude. And why would I be rude to someone wearing such a flattering piece of... facewear? Or is it part of your identity? Your... Grimmsona?”

Adam opened his mouth, then closed it shut with a click. He took a step back and lowered his sword and scabbard so that they were held before him. “Are you mocking me?”

“No?” Akelarre asked. “I’m just curious. Before this morning I had never heard of your little White Fang gang, so I have a lot to be filled in on.”

“The White Fang is not a gang, human,” Adam said.

Akelarre’s lips turned down in a frown. “There you go, calling me human again. That’s a big assumption to make, isn’t it?”

“If you’re one of us, then why would you side with her?” he asked, but some of his hostility had bled off when Akelarre admitted to not being entirely human.

“Oh, I’m not a faunus either,” Akelarre said. “Though I would like to think I understand, at least in part, what your kind is suffering. I don’t think you’re handling it as well as you might though. Trying to win the hearts of the people with crime is... possible, but you need to do it in an entirely different way. And I think I could help you with that.”

Adam stepped up to Akelarre, towering over her as if he could intimidate her. “And how would you do that?”

“The people of Remnant already have a common enemy, Mister Taurus, You just need to show them that sticking together, not matter the race is more important that squabbling until we get tired and decide to take over.”

“We?”

“Oh, right, I didn’t introduce myself,” she said before reaching up and pulling off her hood one-handed. “I am Akelarre, Princess of the Grimm.”

Then things started escalating.