It was said that the sunsets in the great nation of Bumblebee were the finest in all the lands. People would describe, perhaps with exaggeration, the beautiful detail of the colors, the way the reds and the yellows would fantastically blend together with the oranges. It even led to an unofficial nickname for the nation, the Sunset Kingdom.

From his seat at the quaint little table in his hotel room, Quixotic watched the sunset. To most, it was a thing of pure beauty, something to watch alone or with a lover. But to him, the setting of the sun signified what time it was.

It was time to start drinking.

The man threw himself down the stairs, out the front door, and into the tavern across the street with an almost contagious exuberance. He barged through the doors of the lounge and dropped onto one of the barstools, signaling the bartender to pour another mug of cheaply-made beer.

"Another night drinking alone?" The bartender halfheartedly tried to begin a conversation with him.

Quixotic grunted in assent as he polished off his first glass of alcohol, slamming it down on the counter with the intent of receiving a refill.

"So where are you from?"

Quixotic held the glass in front of his face and hesitated for a moment before setting it down. "I see what you're doing, but I'll bite. I come from Top Shelf, came here to sell some goods, maybe buy a couple weapons. Nothing big." He began to guzzle his drink, albeit as a slower pace than before.

The bartender laughed a bit. "Top Shelf? That's a long way away from here. Don't tell tall tales to me, son. I've heard them all." Quixotic laughed as well, finishing his second drink. "Well, every good lie has a grain of truth. Now, if you'll excuse me…" He bowed his head to the bartender and exited, noting the sigh the bartender let out as he walked away.

He walked around the back of the tavern and found a nondescript door in the back with a small peephole from which those inside could look out. He knocked three times on the door, then twice, then three again. The peephole's hatch opened.

"Have you brought me anything to eat?"

Quixotic grumbled and said the passphrase. "A fresh Quail from the north."

At once the peephole closed, followed by the sounds of multiple locks being unlatched. Finally, the door opened, a grizzled middle-aged man standing behind it. He quickly beckoned for Quixotic to enter the back room, closing the door swiftly after his protégé came in. They sat down at a rather large table, which had numerous half-written papers strewn around a single lit candle. "So, have you cemented your identity?"

Quixotic scratched his jaw. "I'm doing that right now. People know me as the travelling merchant with a drinking problem. It provides the perfect cover for my reconnaissance." He pulled out a folded-up wad of papers from underneath his cloak, handing them to his superior, who looked them over with an almost gleeful enthusiasm.

"The guardsmen stationed on the eastward side, facing the mountains, are the least numerous. The patrols on the west side are the largest, but they're sapping men from the north and south sides of the city to do so, mostly the south."

The other man smirked, satisfied with his apprentice's work. "My boy, this is fine work. You've accomplished quite a bit in your short time here. Keep it up."

They stood up and shook hands as Quixotic's mentor pocketed the documents. "One more thing, if I may," Quixotic began. "The Emberald priests in the city, they've been acting… strangely of late. Something's up, and I don't know what."

His mentor waved him off. "They're basically a doomsday cult, they're always on edge. I wouldn't worry about it."

Quixotic shrugged. "If you say so. Farewell, sir." He stepped outside into the filthy alley, off to cause more trouble to "keep his cover."

The man laughed and stood up. "It's safe to come out now." A clean-shaven, charming young officer stepped out from a closet and into the main chamber. "He's gone, finally. All this spy work makes me thirsty. Good thing we're next to a bar." They both chuckled heartily as the man handed the officer the stack of papers.

"Is this everything we need?" the officer asked. The spy nodded. "We have everything there, Colonel Vulpix."

Vulpix laughed as he shifted through the documents, surprised by the detail the younger spy had had put into his job. "Come now, just because you're jealous of my success doesn't mean you need to get vulgar. Colonel. Ha! Celtic wouldn't associate with someone of such a low rank." He slid the papers into the side pocket of his uniform, and shook his operative's hand.

"Celtic thanks you, Sir Nachbar. You will not regret this." Nachbar laughed again, his sides shaking under his wide cloak. "If I do," he said, "I'll just switch sides again."

Vulpix laid his hand on Nachbar's shoulder. He looked into his eyes, searching them for any disloyalty. He found none, and removed his hand.

"Farewell, my friend. Tomorrow, we rise. And you can finally get laid."

Vulpix laughed as his friend crumpled up one of the papers on his desk and threw it at him with pinpoint accuracy. Unlatching the absurd amount of locks on the door, he walked out into the street.

Across the town, a middle-aged man walked through the winding passageways of the city market, trying not to bump into any of the various, potentially dangerous characters that populated the area. He stopped in front of a stall that sold various foodstuffs.

"Hello, sir," said the grocer. "What'll it be today?"

The man smiled, reaching under his cloak and finding a pouch of coins. "Two loaves and two cobs of corn, please." The grocer grabbed the items and handed them to the man. As he did so, he pointed.

"The sigil on your cloak, I know it. You're from Guns and Roses, aren't you?"

The man nodded as he placed a small lump of copper coins on top of the stall's table. "Indeed. I used to be a soldier in their army, became one of their best strategists. I retired, migrated here. It's a simpler life." He smiled. "I'm Austin."

"A pleasure." The grocer smiled, shaking Austin's hand. "I hope to meet again sometime."

"I'm sure we will." Austin dropped the corn and the bread into his basket and continued onwards towards the residential section. He passed through the ever-thinning throngs of people and went out the city gates, finding himself on the empty road that lead to his countryside home. The tired warrior approached the steps of his modest house, jammed open the door, and let it slam shut behind him.

He set down the basket on the dinner table in the front room, advancing to the side of the fireplace with a loaf of bread in his hand. He took a bite and grabbed one of his swords off the rack on his wall.

Austin walked into the clearing behind his house, locating the training dummy he had set up some time ago to keep his skills sharp. He raised his sword, offering a challenge to his opponent. The dummy remained impassive.

He thrust the sword into its heart, pulling out a small amount of straw as he withdrew. He hacked it at the side, then the head, then where the legs would be.

Suddenly, he heard a snapping sound. Austin looked up, seeing two human figures in the patch of trees just over the hill. One was dressed in lightweight military armor, holding some sort of peculiar sword. The other was holding a long, lance-like weapon and clothed in armor like that of a Mongol. They were talking, seemingly unaware of Austin's presence.

He slowly advanced towards the men, hoping to hear some of their conversation. When he got close enough to see the outline of their faces, he dropped flat.

"-scouting around. Vulpix is handling business in the city."

"What about Yukon?"

"Yukon's preparing his clergy. They move on his signal."

"And Maker?"

"With Celtic, no doubt creating some other alchemical horror. She and failure are the only things I fear in this world."

"Agreed. Come with me. We'll see what the city has to offer."

"A fantastic idea. Let's see a blacksmith, I need to get my tonfa repaired before tonight."

They walked away, down the other side of the hill towards the south west city entrance. Austin stood, breathing heavily, and proceeded to stalk them some more, making sure to stay on his side of the hill.

"Do you know the history of this place, Greatness?"

"No, I'm afraid I do not."

"Bumblebee was one of the first Kingdoms to join the Holy RWBY Subreddit, along with White Rose, Monochrome, Freezerburn, Ladybug and even Enabler. Dear god, what were the founders of that thinking?"

Greatness suddenly stopped, grabbing Jokey's shoulder. They both turned towards the top of the hill behind them as a figure suddenly ducked down behind it.

Jokey broke the silence. "We're being followed." He whispered.

"What does it matter? He'll be dead within the next few hours."

"Always a man of perspective, Greatness. Regardless, let's jog into the city."

The two men began running, casting looks behind them to see if they were still being followed. Once confident they weren't, the two slowed down to a walk and found themselves in the business district.

"Do you see a blacksmith's?"

Jokey looked around and pointed to a small smithy at the end of the street. The duo walked over to and into the shop, approaching the long-haired man at the counter.

"Can I help you gentlemen?"

Jokey spoke first, unsheathing his tonfa as he did so. "I need these restored. Be delicate with the handles and be very careful not to damage the inscriptions."

The blacksmith looked over the blade, noting the engraving on the central ridge of the sword. "What's it say?"

"What it means is not important to you. Sharpen the edges, get the rust off, that is what you're paid to do. Greatness, you need anything?"

Greatness turned from an open window to face Jokey, shaking his head.

"Will this take long?"

The blacksmith shook his head. "No, no it won't. I won't be ten minutes." He disappeared into the back with Jokey's blades.

The assassin walked over to the window, standing next to his compatriot. "Can we stand outside? The air in here is agitating my throat."

The stepped outside, loitering near the door of the establishment. Jokey ran his hand across his head, scratching his scalp as the hand jerked mechanically. The twitchy hand dropped to his side as he leaned over and whispered to his ally.

"So what is the plan for you guys? Did Celtic tell us what the others would be doing?"

"Vulpix and Inferno will draw their attention with their armies, my warriors and I will attack from the exposed flank. Yukon and Maker will sow chaos in the city. What about you and Celtic?"

"He'll have his armies mop up any survivors while I infiltrate the Bumblebee castle. By the time he gets there, I'll have most of their government dead or subdued and Bumblebee will be ours. We'll be in open rebellion against the Mod Council."

"The thought of betraying your government doesn't frighten you?"

"I'm not betraying them, Greatness, for I am loyal to only one man. I-" He was cut off as the blacksmith came out with his newly sharpened blades.

Jokey took them out of the blacksmith's hands, making sure the mechanical movements of his right hand weren't too noticeable. "Thank you, uh-" he paused, looking up at the sign above the entrance for the name of the owner. "-Gwydion. Your help is much appreciated."

The blacksmith nodded courteously. "Of course, sir." Greatness pulled a few coins out of the pouch on his waistband, handing them to Gwydion as they walked away. Gwydion pocketed the money, going back into his workshop.

As he walked behind the counter, another young man walked in, eagerness and youthful energy in his eyes. "Excuse me, sir. I'd like to buy a sword."

Gwydion looked him up and down, examining his impeccable uniform. "That's a peculiar accent you have. Where are you from?"

The man was taken aback, not expecting the question. Nonetheless, he smiled and pulled a small dagger from his belt with a small, surprisingly detailed sigil on the pommel. Two scythes, roses entwining them together.

Gwydion leaned back and smirked. "Guns and Roses. Not many people from there around here. What business could you have in Bumblebee?"

"I'm here as part of the Guns and Roses Foreign Legion. I plan to travel to White Rose next, or maybe Enabler. I hear it can be quite… exciting in those parts.

The blacksmith laughed heartily. "Oh, I wish I had your enthusiasm. Now, are you looking for a sword to spar with or to fight with?"

"To fight. I'll take one of your sharpest swords." The man placed a bag of coins on the counter as Gwydion retrieved one of his masterpieces from the back and set it on the counter.

"Thank you, sir." The young man beamed as he eagerly ran out of the forge with his new sword at his side, leaving Gwydion at the counter smiling.

The young soldier ran through the back alleys of the city, having come to commit some of them to memory by that point. He looked around a corner and saw three men in long green-black robes walking down the street. Emberald priests.

The church of Emberald had a reputation among the other offshoots of the Yuri Reformation as being abusive, though he had never believed such propaganda. Nonetheless, they were renowned for their extraordinary devotion to the leader of their church. For that most chose to be wary of them, abusive or not.

"Calvin, you and Derkins will meet up with the Freund brothers in the marketplace. You'll know what to do from there. Go!" Two of the priests nodded and departed from their leader, walking towards the business district of the city. The head priest disappeared down a corner, out of view.

The soldier breathed a small sigh and continued down the alley, only to run directly into the head priest. The young man screamed and bumped up against the edge of a door, intensely startled.

"Oh dear. I'm terribly sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. It's the mask, isn't it." He laughed, slightly alleviating the young man's terror. "What's your name, son?"

"Nitesco."

"I apologize profusely, Nitesco, I couldn't see where I was going. It's this damned mask of mine." He tapped the side of the wolf skull that rested across his face.

"Then why do you wear it?"

"Trust me, my boy, it's better that I keep it on."

Nitesco nodded, still breathing heavily from the surprise. "Well, I better get going. I'm already late for curfew."

"Farewell." The high priest muttered as the young man disappeared into the night. He shook his head in disgust. "Idiot."

He turned a corner and found the city stables. Setting down a small bag of gold, the high priest climbed on top of a horse and rode out of the city to the meeting point Celtic had set up for them.

The priest reached the top of the hill, where the rest of the Celtic Council stood waiting. He approached them, giving a small bow as he did so.

"My priests are in position. Shall we move now or wait for total darkness?"

Celtic scratched his head, then turned to face his generals. "Do you all know the plan?"

"Yes." They all stated in unison.

"Very good. Maker has prepared for us another toxin to use on the enemy forces. Vulpix, can you select some of your troops to test this new weapon on the enemy?" Vulpix nodded in response.

"Good. Relish this view, my friends, for it will not exist tomorrow. Tomorrow, the rest of the Subreddit will be ours!"

"Glory!" The council cried.

"Yes, my allies. Glory to us all."