Isra and Eira walked over to their chosen relics and collected them before walking back to the body of the Ursa, looking around the clearing for their respective partners.

"You wouldn't think they could get lost in a clearing with just the one building in it."

Isra chuckled, placing the candle in a pouch. "I don't think that ruin counts as a building. Half a building, maybe. And I've seen people get lost in less."

"Long grass?"

Isra smiled. "Nope."

"Semblance?"

"You're talking about how they went missing, not what they got lost in, right?"

"Sort of. It'd be funny if someone got lost in their semblance."

Isra shook his head as his smile vanished. "Funny for you."

Eira looked at Isra, who seemed oddly pensive given his previous cheery attitude. "Something I said?"

"Long story." Too long for my liking. Never should have picked up- Don't. Don't think about it, Isra.

Clear head? Clear head. On you go.

Isra spun slowly, taking in the part of the clearing they could see. "Do you think we should go look for them, or wait for them to turn up?"

"If you want to go track them down, go ahead. I'll stay here in case they turn back up. Let me get your SID first." Her hand vanished inside one of the magazine pouches on her vest. "You've got a scroll, right?"

Isra's hand dipped into the pouch he kept his scroll in. "Yeah, just a tick. Not too familiar with the whole 'contact' thing, though. Novice question, but where do I find the SID?"

Eira plucked Isra's scroll from his hand, navigating the menus with practiced ease until she found what she was looking for. "What's with the language on this thing? Valish too good for you or something?"

Isra looked over Eira's shoulder at the display. Scroll kod identyfikacji – Scroll identification code. She knows what she's looking for, at any rate. "Yeah, uh… I got it through a friend."

"A friend, huh? Smuggler, more like."

Isra raised an eyebrow as he took his scroll back. "How do you know?"

"I recognise the language, even if I don't speak it. It's a sister language to Atlesian. Doesn't have a huge speaker-base outside of Atlas' criminal underworld. Probably related to a purge about four hundred years back that killed most of the people who spoke it."

"Linguist, heiress, Huntress. Talk about multi-talented."

Eira tapped the code into her scroll and sighed. "Not there yet, Izzie. I'm not an heiress – the Schnees are the only ones who call their kids that – I'm not a Huntress, and I'm pretty sure my hobby for languages doesn't count as me being a linguist."

"You can't take a compliment?"

She put her scroll away and turned to face Isra. "I can, but you've known me for maybe an hour max. Tell me I'm pretty, tell me I'm witty; hell, act like you're scared of my dad, but don't try and say I'm multi-talented until you've actually seen me demonstrate it."

Isra raised his hands defensively. "Right. Pardon me for trying to build a rapport."

"Oh no, you've done that. You'd already be on your ass and watching mine walk away if I didn't think you were worth my time."

"And what have I done to earn your time, then? Always looking to improve my people game."

Eira chuckled and drew her carbine. "Don't ever call it your 'people game' again. By Dust, if there was anything you could've said to kill whatever respect I had for you, that'd be it."

"I'll keep that in mind. You still haven't answered my question though."

"You still haven't found our partners, either."

"If I track them down, will you answer my question?"

Eira grinned and hooked the lantern to her vest. "If you track them down, you will have answered that question yourself."

Isra smiled and drew his own weapon. "Two can play at the 'cryptic phrases' game. I've had years of practice too. The one who persists longest is not always the victor."

"Get our partners, and we'll see who can 'persist longest'."

Isra checked his rifle's load, swapping out the ice canister for one filled with fire Dust, and walked off, chuckling as his mind filled with the koans he'd been told over the years.

Magnus read through the list of Beacon prospects that crossed his desk that morning.

"You'll have to point it out to me, Vic. All I'm seeing here are names."

Victoria sighed and tapped on the screen. Immediately, one name on the list was highlighted in yellow. "Right there, sir."

"Vic…" Magnus looked at the consul disappointedly.

Victoria sighed as she recalled the princep's orders. "Magnus, sorry."

"That's better. Now, what's so special about this name?"

"I ran through the entire database of Cerulans and cross-referenced it against the Beacon student list, as you ordered. That name was the only hit. 'Isra Feher'."

"Feher. His parents are both members?"

"Yes sir. Well, were members. They were excommunicated twenty years back for 'dissent'. Of course, that's a light offense, so any children are still eligible for service in the Order." Victoria paused, contemplating the combination. "Sir, if I may ask, what kind of dissent warrants excommunication? I could understand a punishment like ostracism - where we simply don't associate with the guilty - but excommunication seems to be taking it a bit further. Why cut off anyone else who speaks with them?"

"Because, Consul, sometimes dissent is a small step away from heresy. The Fehers had taken that step and more. I was merciful."

TWENTY YEARS AGO

"Agent Coriol, you seriously expect the Executors to believe that your attempt was thwarted by the efforts of one man? Not only that, but your response was to excommunicate that man as soon as you had the means to?"

Magnus looked at the shrouded figures surrounding him – the Executors of the Blackguard, the chief authority on any Blackguard operations. "Executor Thanis, please, don't try to pass judgement until you've been in my position. I had just taken the title of Princep of the Vale Chapter of the Cerulan Order and this man – Michaeus Feher – was trying to deny my claim. More importantly, his father had spent nearly his entire life preaching that we should integrate with the traitors. Not merely reconcile, but integrate. He would have us sign away an entire chapter of the Cerulans simply because maintaining our integrity was too much of a hamper."

Another one of the shrouded figures spoke up, his tone just as condescending as his peer's. "Agent Coriol, this council is no place to grandstand. We have no care for your opinions on the Hunter-Cerulan Schism, so please refrain from calling them 'traitors'. While your accession to the office of Princep is certainly an impressive feat, doubly so given you've only had a presence in that chapter for ten years, you are now faced with a choice: You can continue your misguided crusade against the Hunters, or you can resign your post for further assignment with the Blackguards. Bear in mind that, should you choose the former option, the Blackguard will disavow you and, should you draw the ire of another individual who can contact us, you will be hunted down and killed."

Magnus grinned at the challenge. "You haven't had anyone like me grace these halls in two hundred years. That threat is as empty as your robes."

"Do not tempt us, Agent Coriol; our wrath is without measure. You will leave this compound, never to return. You will not contact us for assistance. You and your chapter will not be aided by any Blackguard until we gathered Executors decide to reverse our judgement."

Magnus' expression changed to one of pure fury at this denial. "You DARE to banish your BEST AGENT?! NO-ONE in this ENTIRE COMPOUND could do what I've done! NO-ONE could join the Valish Cerulans incognito, like I did, and rise through the ranks to become PRINCEP in TEN YEARS! I SHOW YOU how VALUABLE I am, and you THROW ME AWAY?! All because I wish to show those TRAITORS the PAIN and SUFFERING we endured at Penumber?!"

"Agent Coriol, if you are quite finished…"

Magnus exhaled, his fury giving way to serenity. "No. If I'm no longer a part of this band of heretics, I will not be addressed by the name you gave me. I am Princep Magnus Varanich, and I will see you all burn." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the chamber, shrugging off the arms of the guards escorting him.

"Princep Magnus?"

Magnus blinked himself back to reality. "Yes, Consul?"

"You seemed to be… elsewhere, for a moment. What do you want me to do about Feher?"

Magnus looked down at the scroll in his hands and the name. Isra… it's not Michaeus, but he has his surname. A son, perhaps? If that's the case… Perhaps I might finally find my retribution. He tapped a number into the scroll. "I'm sending you a number. I want you to call it and tell whoever answers 'the crows circle overhead; their prey lies below comprehension'. If they don't respond with 'their prey is not beyond comprehension, but beyond perception; comprehension is but an obstacle', come get me."

"And if they do?"

"You will talk with someone calling themselves an Executor. They will ask who gave you the passphrase. Tell them Agent Tyran gave it to you. They'll ask how he died; tell them he died in a collapse, leaving no body to be recovered. They'll send a team out to confirm the kill, and that's where Feher comes into the equation. Tell them we have a heretic who seeks allegiance with the traitors; they're honour-bound to follow up and, if necessary, dispose of the target for heresy. We will make it necessary. Am I clear, Consul?"

Victoria watched as the number flashed up on her scroll's display. "Perfectly, Princep. Call the number, use challenge phrase 'the crows circle overhead; their prey lies below comprehension' and expect response 'their prey is not beyond comprehension, but beyond perception; comprehension is but an obstacle'. If I don't get that response, I bring you into the call; otherwise I tell the Executor the code was given to me by Agent Tyran, who died in a collapse. Tell the Executor also that we have a heretic who wants to join the Hunters. Was that everything?"

Magnus smiled at Victoria's memory. He hadn't had the opportunity to work with people like her before; people who had near-perfect memories, so to have one as his assistant was quite the experience. "Yes, Consul; that was everything. Ut temporum fugit, sic faciunt populo; I'd get to work if I was you."

Victoria blanched; she'd never heard Magnus use Old Cerulan as casually as he did. "I'm sorry, what?"

"'Ut Temporum Fugit, Sic Faciunt Populo' – 'As time flies, so do people'. I thought you were familiar with the Old Tongue."

"I… I am, Princep, I just wasn't expecting you to use it. I've worked as Consul for three years, and I've never heard it from anyone other than a Luminary."

"Yes; a shame, isn't it, that language falls by the wayside so easily?" Magnus sighed and looked wistfully at the globe on his desk. "Go make the call. I'll be around."

Victoria nodded as she left his office. She was well-versed in Magnus's mercuriality, so his sudden shift from rage to nostalgia was nothing new to her, but she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that his speaking Old Cerulan gave her. As for the task he'd given her… well, that just exacerbated her nervousness. The Executors were near-mythic figures to her and the rest of the Order; looming shadows waiting for the slightest straying from the path, punishing any who did severely. And he felt it necessary to invoke their wrath on a seventeen year-old boy?

She sighed and cleared her mind. She swore an oath when she became Consul; an oath that bound her to the will of the Princep, no matter how unusual his wishes. If his wish was to bring the Executors against a seventeen-year-old, she was to obey.

Isra walked around the temple's clearing, surveying the area for any sign of his partner. Wow, he was gone all of ten minutes and he's gotten beyond the clearing. Speedy. He paused and pulled out his scroll. As I recall, these things have a GPS; the maps and whatever use it. Could I… He navigated to the scroll's settings and began his search. If I was a tech guy, albeit one that spoke Język Karne, what would I call it?

His hunt was cut short as a red-headed figure leaped out of a tree and on top of him.

"Whoa, Isra? Dammit, sorry man." Isra shook himself back to reality to see Vardan standing over him, hand out to help him up.

"Sorry? You fell on me. Widow's word, that hurts."

"You've never had someone fall on you before? Of course it hurts."

Isra took Vardan's hand and climbed to his feet. "Not that. I've had plenty of falls, some of them where I landed on people, some of them the other way around. But at least I had some warning for those; time enough to bring up my Aura so it wasn't a surprise eighty to a hundred kilos of person on top of me."

Vardan carefully looked around and shrugged. "Yeah, well, Rox might've heard me if I said anything. If it comes to saving your back or not getting my ass beat to hell, I choose me. No disrespect or anything."

Moral compass like Basil's. Him first, everyone else second. Well, at least I'm familiar with it. "None taken. Speaking of Rox, where'd you last see her? Eira's getting a little worried."

Vardan laughed quietly, not louder than his normal speech. "Eira? Worried? She's a Sable. Sables don't worry about people; they worry about pay. They're like the Schnees of private security. If, you know, the Schnees were local to Atlas only and were less well-known."

"I think your metaphor got away from you there. You still haven't answered my question, though."

Vardan looked around, as though merely speaking her name would summon her to them. "Where's Rox? No idea. Last I saw, she was about five feet behind me as I jumped into a bush."

Isra stepped back from Vardan. "Five feet isn't far enough to lose someone. If she was five feet behind you when you jumped into a bush, she followed you into that bush and further."

"Guess I'm just screwed then. Want to count her in?"

Isra raised an eyebrow.

"You know. 'Three, two, one', that sort of-"

Isra jumped backwards as Roxane dropped out of the same tree Vardan had, right on top of him.

"Gotcha. Remember what we said when we got out of Signal, Vardi?"

Vardan tried to shove Roxane off him, to no avail. "Oh, great. Isra, keep this moment in mind; Roxane'll say something similar when she's going to beat you up."

"When? Don't you mean 'if'?"

Roxane glanced back from her position straddling Vardan. "No, he means 'when'. I'll probably wind up finding some way to get to know you better."

"Strange way to say 'beat you'."

Roxane nodded and turned her attention back to Vardan. "Yeah, I guess; but I think the best way to get to know someone," she smiled down at Vardan, "is to find out how much punishment they can take. On that note, you're about to get to know Vardi pretty well."

Vardan reflexively raised his arms and snatched Roxane's, pinning them over his head. "Or not. Remember how you couldn't beat me unless you had the advantage?"

Roxane's arms tensed, then slackened. "Dammit; I should've laid into you right off. Fine, you win."

"Get off me first. I'm not an idiot, Rox."

Roxane pouted, putting her best puppy-dog eyes into action.

"Not going to work on me. Off."

Roxane's pout turned into a frown, sticking her tongue out as she climbed off him. "You're no fun."

"I like not getting beat by a girl two-thirds my size. It's embarrassing." Vardan climbed to his feet before he let go of Roxane's arms, one of his hands immediately moving to her shoulder and holding her still. "Promise that you won't try anything?"

"When we get a quiet moment, all bets are off."

"I'll take that. Just as long as we're settled here." Vardan released his grip on Roxane's shoulder. "Isra, are we relic'd?"

"Relic'd?"

"Yeah. You did grab a relic, right? You didn't just go hunting for me the moment I ran off?"

Isra nodded in understanding, pulling the candle out from its pouch. "Yeah, I grabbed one. Eira's got one for you as well, Rox. We can meet back up with her and make our way to the cliffs. Sound good for everyone?"

Vardan and Roxane both nodded in unison.

"Well, let's make some tracks."

Isra looked back down the cliff as he crested the top, watching Vardan, Eira and Roxane finish their ascent. When they had joined him at the top, he turned to face the two figures waiting for them, scant feet away.

"Professor Ozpin, sir, Isra Feher and Vardan Marist reporting with relic in hand." Isra produced the candle he'd taken from the temple and offered it to the professor.

Ozpin smiled, waving Isra's hand away. "Keep the candle. Well done on finishing Initiation, Isra. You may return to Beacon; you'll be summoned to the auditorium when the time is right."

"Thank you, sir."

Ozpin raised an eyebrow when Isra refused to move, but understood when he saw Isra and Eira's partners walk off to one side. Already forming an attachment to his partner, or simply too nervous to travel back alone? Formation will answer that question soon enough. He nodded past Isra to Eira. "Miss Sable? I take it you have a relic as well?"

Eira cocked her head at the mention of her name, only for her hand to reactively reach for the lantern when she saw who addressed her. "Oh, right, yes. Eira Sable and Roxane Mallor, one relic in tow." She raised the lantern on one finger, offering it to the professor with a smile.

"Keep it. Well done on completing initiation. You may return to Beacon; I'll summon you to the auditorium for the next step shortly."

"Thank you, Professor. This isn't going to be a wasted opportunity."

Ozpin smiled at the girl's eagerness as the lantern's handle slid back into her hand. "I'm sure it won't, Eira."

The four gathered themselves and walked back down the path towards Beacon.

"Ozpin, you don't normally remember every student's name. Why do they warrant an exception?"

Ozpin watched them stride along the path and sipped from his mug. "Isra is here because I owe his father a favour. I don't owe many people favours, Glynda, so it's a noteworthy event worth remembering. Eira is a Sable; here on recommendation from an old friend. I don't typically place much weight in recommendations, but the records that he attached suggests that – had Eira applied – she could have easily made it in with the original classes. Mister Marist and Miss Mallor are far more… mundane, worth remembering through association. Make no mistake, I don't value any of them any more or less than I do the other students; these four are simply here on my generosity alone and it would be impolite to not even learn their names."

Glynda cycled through the camera feeds on her scroll, settling on one of the other pairs. "Generosity can be as much a curse as it is a blessing. You told me that once."

Ozpin turned and gazed out over the forest, listening to the far-off sounds of Grimm and gunfire. "When I was younger and more cynical. I've seen enough to prove me wrong since then."

A/N: Hello reader! Apologies on the lack of updates the past while, but I've been busy with my other project, R.W.B.Y.: This Dying World. That being said, I'm going to keep this updated on a reasonably regular basis.

As for this chapter proper, I didn't want to spend much more time messing around with the Initiation sequence, so I figured I may as well bring it to a close now. Next chapter we can actually get onto meeting students and what have you.

See you when the next chapter comes!