The Bloodied Thirty Pieces

19 - Well I See Trees of Green

The air was thick with sorrow and grief across Beacon. From the tower came the tolling of a great bell as all the students and teachers lined the grand parade in their finest clothes of mourning. The students of Atlas and Shade were there to support the heavy-hearted students of Beacon, but it was those of Haven that shared the anguish and sorrow equally and stood tallest, standing vigil with eyes locked dead ahead and their arms crossed over their chests in ever salute. At the base of the statue of the Huntsman and Huntress watching over the grounds of the school was a large stage flanked by two large flag posts bearing red coloured banners. Upon the stage sat the headmaster and headmistress of beacon, as well as James Ironwood of Atlas and, surprising of all, Walter Schnee of the Schnee Dust Company. To the left of the stage stood Jaune and his team, their heads bowed unable to raise them to the object, a coffin dressed in bronze and red, lying in front of them on a pedestal wreathed with flowers. Nora stood with her hands locked before her holding a bouquet of white lilies while Ren leaned into the redhead's side, one arm around her shoulders as he whispered into her ear: it was the most Jaune had ever heard him speak, despite not hearing the actual words.

A faint smile touched the blonde's lips, but not his heart. His thoughts were torn between the coffin, before him, and trying to avoid looking at it, and of Ruby still alive somewhere in the school. He was glad however as he looked up and around at the crowds that Ozpin had shouted down the media's request to be present. And so, not a single journalist or camera was present on the grounds of Beacon.

After all, who wants to make a media circus of a funeral.

Movement on stage caught Jaune's eye, saving him from looking at the coffin in front of him. Ozpin approached the podium, cane in hand and his face set neutral, but his eyes spoke oceans of the pain he was feeling inside.

"Today we have gathered to mourn the passing of Pyrrha Nikos, a great and noble young woman. Though blessed with incredible strength and skill, it was her heart, and her will to do good and ensure and safe and bright future for all that made her the warrior and Huntress we saw and admired. For many, she was but a name, a reputation, a hero. But for some, she was a student, a friend, a sister. A daughter. She was all of these things and more. Pyrrha Nikos was a guardian of all that we hold dear; honesty, friendship, and teamwork, strength, peace. There is not a heart or mind that she has not touched in some small way, and I hope that her spirit, her memory, and everything she stood for will be remembered for centuries."

While many around him looked to the headmaster in grief or with blank expressions Jaune glared at him with smoldering hate and fury. He spoke of Pyrrha and honoring her memory, yet he held Ruby in a cell and was even pushing for her to receive surgery so she'll live. Jaune's hands curled into fists; how dare he fight to save her, to save Ruby, when Pyrrha lay dead meters in front of him. Jaune began to move towards the stage when the person who had taken Ozpin's place at the podium stopped him dead in his tracks and drove all anger and fury from his body.

The man standing on stage was tall and athletically built with lightly tanned skin bearing many scars of age and type. His short cut red hair and full beard trimmed to a point were just starting to show signs of grey, but his vivid green eyes showed an experienced veteran still with the spark of youthful bravado and spirit. Dressed in similar leather and red cloth clothes and bronze armour as Pyrrha the man cleared his throat and leaned into the microphone.

"When my daughter was five years old," the man said in a deep soothing voice thick with a Mistralian accent. "She came to me and told me that she wanted to grow up to protect the people. I had just come home from a hunt and I was cleaning my blade when I turned to her and asked 'would you like to be like your mother and brother and invent a way to protect the people?' She shook her head and said she wanted to be like me and fight the monsters. Even at that young age, she was driven to serve and protect the peoples of Remnant, not just Mistral. So I smiled and gave her my sword. I told her its name was Miló, which meant 'Speak', for a warrior lets their weapons and their actions speak for them.'