The Price of Knowledge, Part 3

"Man"

Clean. That was what he remembered. The house had always been clean. White walls, clear glass and the smell of bleach. Peter Ironwood's home had always been immaculate. Which, compared to his career record, was a stark contrast.

After only ten years, the details were already starting to fade. What color was the door? Or the futon in the living room? A garden… his mother had liked to keep a garden. Where she grew… vegetables? No, orchids. Definitely orchids. The small things eluded him, lost in a haze of smoke and heat. But the cleanliness stood out. Polished tile floors and fresh bedsheets brought in every day by a man with a dog's ears.

Sometimes, when all he had to focus on were his own thoughts, he could still hear the parting words, spoken in silence mere hours before the roar of the blaze.

"No matter where you go, what you do or how you do it, make sure the world remembers you as a good man. A… better man than me."

And it was in heat and smoke and terror that those words had taken root.

James Ironwood woke with a start, a hand gently rocking his shoulder. A pair of eyes like the damnable firelight gazed down from Lyon's concerned face and he cocked an eyebrow. James shook his head and stood, stretching.

In the dormitory of team OIGL, as they had been christened, weak sunlight filtered through the open curtains, an overcast sky disguising the time of day. The clock read 7:43 though, and James noticed that Ozpin and Glynda's beds were already emptied and made. Nothing out of the ordinary there; Glynda liked to run in the mornings and Ozpin always spent the early hours in the cafeteria, sipping his coffee and reading some dusty old library checkout or another.

Showering and dressing in his usual straightforward, productive manner, Ironwood and Lyon made their way down to breakfast together, the latter stretching and enjoying the watery sunshine. The ground was still wet from the previous night's rain, which had done nothing to combat the flames that plagued James' dreams. Lyon was talking, and only after a long moment did James realize that he hadn't been listening.

"I was listening to the news last night; you hear that there was another protest outside the capitol building in Vacuo? Apparently one of the statesmen decided that it would be a good idea to publicly shame a Faunus who worked on his property after the worker accidentally dropped a tree limb on top of the politician's car. Instead of just firing him or docking his pay, the statesman had him push the car all the way to a repair shop." He made a disgusted noise and James nodded inattentively.

Lyon continued, "It just goes to show that people don't care about Faunus as much as they care about humans, not other humans at least. I mean, you and I are proof that not all humans hate the Faunus, but still; nobody would even think of doing something that cruel or demeaning to one of us."

As the pair stepped into the spacious cafeteria, Lyon's disgust at the state of the world was cut short by the clamor of forks and spoons clattering on bowls and plates, alongside the idle din of sleep-addled chatter. Lyon and James grabbed their food from the serving table and found their seats next to Ozpin and Glynda. Across the table, Qrow was eating in silence while Summer snored into the hardwood.

"Taiyang and Raven not up yet?" Lyon asked far-too-cheerfully. Qrow chewed and swallowed.

"They're up; had to go in early to make up a class after they skipped Verner's lecture yesterday." Lyon chuckled and Ozpin flipped the page of whatever he was reading while Glynda and Ironwood ate their food quietly. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to have a conversation; they simply found themselves unable. The first two weeks of schooling at Beacon had been brutal; lectures from sun-up to sun-down. Whenever the students were sleeping or studying, they were waiting in line to have a crack at the practice floor, which - by the Valean Council's policy - was not to be used during class time.

So, Raven and Taiyang had snuck out of Professor Verner's lecture and gone into Vale to practice at a local gym that hosted an open ring on weeknights. They hadn't been caught, but clearly Verner knew they hadn't been in class and had assigned them penance in the form of a zero-period.

James and Glynda had been derisive when they heard this; why bother enrolling and being elected (among hundreds of applicants) to the greatest battle school in Remnant only to spend your days galavanting off in the city? It was a waste. Ozpin and Lyon were more understanding. One of the main reasons people attended a battle school was to learn how to be Huntresses and Huntsmen - to learn how to fight. That didn't make it right, but it was understandable that people would grow tired of lectures and lessons and would be looking to learn something hands-on.

Slowly taking up spoonfuls of hot cereal and chewing slowly, James watched the table in front of him intently. The conversation continued to go on around him, Ozpin and Glynda chiming in between Lyon and Qrow occasionally, but James' eyes were fixed on the flames that burned even after so many years. He started when he felt a hand on his shoulder and saw the rest of the table looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. He gave his best smile and tried to assure them that he was fine. Glynda scoffed.

"Right. So naturally - because you're totally fine - you just stare off into space like you can see something we don't." Lyon chuckled but Glynda and Ozpin remained serious, the latter speaking now.

"James, if you've got a problem tell us. We're a team. We can't help if we don't know the problem." James felt his hands curl into fists around his spoon and his brow darkened.

"What makes you think I need help?" he asked more forcefully than he meant to. "I'm fine. Leave me be." Taking his unfinished breakfast, he turned and walked to the door, dropping his tray off along the way. His team was left watching his retreating form, but what they could not see circling around him were the phantom embers and billows of smoke.

Classes that day came and went normally. Verner talked at them about different species of Grimm - Beowolves and Ursa, King Taijitu and Deathstalkers, Nevermores great and small, and all manner of other creatures that had not been seen within the borders of the kingdoms in decades. Other teachers debated philosophy, history and the geography of the kingdoms. Glynda - as was her penchant - hung on every word. Ozpin paid close attention but by looking at him one would be unable to tell. Lyon sketched pictures in his notebooks and Ironwood brooded in silence.

After several hours of tedium, their chance finally came. All of team OIGL had a free period in the late afternoon, just before dinner. It was a perfect opportunity, and one they refused to let down. Regardless of what had been said earlier in the day, all four made their way to the training floor in high spirits. The building was older than much of the rest of the campus, the recent renovations of many of the aging structures having skipped over arguably the most important building. Still, it was impressive. High walls and a vaulted ceiling surrounded a wide open ring with seating for an audience. As the team entered, another match was already in progress. A pair of second-year students squared off, circling slowly and occasionally darting forward to exchange a few quick blows before retreating and returning to their pacing.

By providence, the floor was mostly empty this period and team OIGL found open spots in the next three bouts. Offering the first spot to James, the four settled to wait until the current bout ended. They did not have to wait long, as one of the two combatants performed a sufficiently flashy move and soon found themselves hurling downward through the air, opponent firmly gripped in a full-Nelson, before slamming them bodily into the ground and rolling backward, ready for another exchange that never came. The professor in charge of the floor nodded appreciatively as the brawlers returned to the locker rooms.

"Excellent match, Mr. Port. Fine form. I look forward to seeing you fight again soon." The burley student who had come out on top nodded his thanks and headed off, head held high. The professor scratched a few things on a note before checking the roster. "Next match... James Ironwood and Seneca Byre. Please prepare yourselves and meet on the floor in exactly five minutes."

James stood and left the booth, his team shooting concerned glances at his figure as he disappeared into the locker room. "Do you think he's alright?" Lyon asked as he exhaled. Ozpin considered for a long moment before responding.

"I think that if there's anywhere he needs to be right now, it's on the floor." Glynda cocked an eyebrow.

"How do you figure?" she asked

Ozpin shrugged. "James is a fighter. Whatever is bothering him, it's something that he'll need to beat down in order to triumph in this match. And James is too proud to let himself be beaten by anything - no matter how much it may seem to weigh him down. He'll cope and he'll overcome, and then he'll win." He sounded so sure of himself, but Lyon wondered who he was trying to convince. Though they'd been a team hardly a fortnight, Ozpin had proved to new perhaps the most interesting person Lyon had met in his life. He was calm and collected, but vicious in battle. He was worldwise beyond his years, and he was so nonchalant about everything that Lyon wondered if he couldn't see the future.

His hazel eyes were always fixated forward, when others were locked on the past. He was calm and level-headed when any other person would have long ago detonated. The other day Lyon had watched him in the ring. He fought like a man so sure of his own victory that he didn't need to try, yet he never exuded any airs of overconfidence or arrogance. He wasn't sure that he was the best; he just accepted the fact that he was going to win, and he did.

But now it was James' turn. Lyon had watched him, too. He fought like a madman; aggressive and relentless, but never reckless. He kept his distance until the enemy closed to a range where his rifle would no longer afford him any use and then switched to the secondary form of the weapon. His decision to carry two weapons rather than a single one was an uncommon strategy, but a useful one as it afford him capability at any range. Still, space on the training floor was limited, and all those who had seen him fight knew that James Ironwood fought better at range than in close. It was a minor flaw - a Huntsman should be multifaceted - and James was. But his preference was one that was all too easy to exploit.

He emerged from the locker room like a pit fighter, body relaxed and holding up the weight of his armor easily. Simple plate covered his arms and legs, with a lighter layer of ablative material covering his torso and vital areas. Cai hung loosely from one hand, already in axe form. Laos was in its holster, and seemed to hum with a nervous energy on the eve of battle.

Both the opponents squared up and began circling eachother warily, daring the other to make the first move. In the end, Seneca did. Lashing forward and swinging his heavy blade overhand, he crashed the weapon into the floor, kicking up sparks as James rolled out. Of the way. Righting himself, James went on the offensive. Cai whirred through the air and hummed vibrantly as Senseca avoided every attack. The shorter student pivoted on his axis and swung his blade wide at James' exposed obliques. Bringing Cai around to block the blow, James was nonetheless thrown off balance by the heavy strike.

On the defensive now, James parried and avoided every stroke that came his way. Sparks flew alongside the screeching chorus of metal on metal every time their weapons met, and the two soon found themselves locked close together, pushing in on their weapons, neither daring to back off and surrender their "advantage."

Seneca's eyes burned as he gazed back at James. Torchlight reflected and adrenaline roared as the flames flashed before his eyes again. The training room disappeared, replaced by high walls, tiled floors and the filthy perfection of it all. Then the smoke rose; clogging the air, filling the lungs. His eyes and nose burned, his ears filled with the roaring of the blaze and the pounding of his own heart, and his mind was thrust back into the inferno.

"Make sure the world remembers you as a good man..."

A man who didn't run.

"Remembers you as a good man..."

A man who beat back the flames.

"A good man..."

He shoved himself backward from Seneca, the training floor rushing back to him all at once. In the heat of the moment, Cai flew from his grip and clattered on the floor. A groan rose from those watching who wished to see James triumph. Seizing what he thought was an opportunity, Seneca pressed the attack. The blow flew straight at him, cutting the air before stopping dead. All eyes widened, especially Seneca's, at the sight of James Ironwood holding back the blow with the flat of his open hand.

Without bothering to pick up his weapon, James took his free hand and smashed it across Seneca's face. The other student recoiled and let go of his weapon, staggering back and taking a defensive stance - to no avail. James tossed away the broadsword and dashed forward, unarmed, and delivered blow after blow to his opponent. Punches, kicks, knees and elbows sounded like gunshots as they made contact before Ironwood ducked under Seneca's last desperate attack and fired off a single, brutal punch, sending the other student flying. Seneca hit the wall hard and crumpled to the floor, aura flickering and dying - depleted by a single blow. The wall itself cracked outward like a spiderweb, the force of the impact shattering the concrete.

James' own aura whispered as it circled him, radiant and impermeable, before fading. The fire died and he crumpled to the floor, a wave of fatigue overtaking him.

In the stands, Lyon's jaw scraped the floor. Glynda's lime green eyes were wide as saucers and surprise was plain even on Ozpin's face. Seneca was stirring as the professor rushed out onto the floor, checking Seneca as another teacher headed toward Ironwood. Circles of scorched concrete radiated outward from James' prone figure like rings in a tree trunk, and luminescent auric flames licked the floor.

"Guess we know what James' semblance is," Glynda muttered, in awe.

James was checked and told that, while he had expended a massive amount of his auric reserves in a single burst of power, he was going to be fine. Seneca would be sore but was not seriously injured, and had apparently asked the nurse to tell James that they would need to have a rematch sometime.

James himself was quiet, seated on the edge of his bed and looking down at his hands. He flexed his fingers several times, calloused skin pulling over muscle and bone. He couldn't see the fire, but he could still feel it's lingering heat. He looked up as the door opened and his team stepped in, Lyon leading.

"Ok, you have some stuff to explain," he said and Ozpin laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Lyon, you could have at least asked him if he was alright first." Lyon shrugged.

"Hey James, you OK?" Ironwood managed a weak shrug and a nod. Lyon returned the gesture. "Right. He's fine. So, tell us, what was that? I mean, I've seen some crazy semblances but that was totally insane. What, you just hit stuff and every time you hit you hit a little harder?" He would have continued had he not needed to pause for breath and James took the opportunity.

"Really, Lyon, I'm fine. I... I don't know how to explain what happened. I mean, I was lost in my own thoughts - I wasn't focused and I was losing ground because of it. And then I just... Snapped. Started hitting back with everything I had and before I knew it my aura was in the black and Seneca was learning to fly." Lyon chuckled and even Glynda cracked a smile but Ozpin still looked more curious than anything.

"Was that the first time you had used your semblance?" James nodded. "I thought so. It was powerful; impressive to watch, really. Where did the fire come from, though?"

James' brow darkened like a thundercloud at the mention of fire and his team saw the same look he had carried with him before the practice bout. Ozpin held up his hands. "Forget I asked."

James sighed. "No... No, I need to tell you. Strange as it may seem we're a team now - I can't keep anything from you. Not if I expect you all to have my back when I need it." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. "My... My home was destroyed by a fire. Back in Atlas. The police suspected foul play but could never prove it. My father... Didn't make it out of the house." The room was vacuum-silent, Lyon dropping his gaze even as Glynda stepped closer, laying a hand on her teammate's shoulder. For once, James didn't shy away from the touch.

"I never got along with my father from the time I was old enough to realize what kind of man he was. He was an officer in the military, responsible for all sorts of atrocities, especially against the Faunus." He saw Lyon's brow furrow but continued. "I hated him for it, even if I didn't fully understand the gravitas of the situation until years later. The police suspected that the fire was set by our housekeeper."

Ozpin cocked an eyebrow, though he suspected he already knew the answer. "Why would they suspect that?"

"Our housekeeper was a Faunus. My father... Never treated him well. He disappeared after the fire." Again, the uncomfortable silence settled over the room. The new development cast a shroud of doubt over the already silent coming-to-terms. "Before the fire... He told me that I had to grow up to be better than him, but what have I done towards that goal? I'm no better than him." Surprisingly, it was Lyon who spoke next.

"You're not your father," he said quietly. It took the team a moment to realize what he was said, and James looked at him, cocking an eyebrow and silently asking Lyon what he meant. "You're not your father," he repeated. "Your father wouldn't tell us all this; he wouldn't confide in his team the way you have. He made mistakes - everyone does. You said you hated him for it. Maybe you still do. But you're wrong when you say you're no better than him. You're here, at Beacon, with us! And you've got your whole life to keep improving yourself and proving him right. He must have believed that you would be capable of proving yourself and making a better name for your family - otherwise he wouldn't have given you the task."

The silence that settled over the room wasn't awkward this time, but expectant. Lyon's eyes glowed and James' own were fixated on the floor. Ozpin cleared his throat, rubbing his chin and sipping from his seemingly ever-present coffee mug. "Well, this has certainly been an eventful day." True to word, the light was rapidly fading from the campus outside. A thousand lights flicked on in the distance - the city of Vale coming to life as night fell.

"I think it's time we all got some rest," Ozpin continued. "Exams tomorrow in Verner and Lazuli; we'll all need some sleep." Ironwood stood.

"I think I'll go for a walk first." He looked around at his team and nodded awkwardly. "Thanks, all of you." The door closed softly behind him and Glynda flopped down onto her bed, sighing mightily. Ozpin finished his coffee and sat at the foot of his own bed, shrugging out of his jacket. Lyon ruffled his unruly straw-shade hair and scratched his bristly sideburns.

"He's a good guy," the last of these muttered as he stripped off his shirt. His teammates nodded and muttered their assent. Meanwhile, James Ironwood walked. The stars above burned with the same sacred, mysterious light as they had for a hundred years before. But the fire that burned amidst the inky darkness above was not terrifying or tainted with screams and the sound of a collapsing home. They were pure, reassuring and bright.

The fire did not haunt James' dreams, that night.

AN - And so we have chapter 3! Hope you guys enjoy; it's not easy writing from Ironwood's perspective, but I've taken some (real: a lot) of creative liberties with his backstory which will all probably be steamrolled when the show continues. Still, you got some action and a good deal of character development for Ironwood and Lyon; hope it didn't seem too forced.

I hope you all enjoyed; next week - Lyon POV! Make sure to drop by the reviews section and leave me some feedback; I can't improve unless you all tell me what you'd like to see changed, added or (within reason) removed. Thanks for reading!