Tick-tock, tick-tock.
Egrer didn't move a muscle. He felt that if he made even the slightest movement with his hand, his eye, or his toe, the entire world around him would collapse.
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
His formal suit jacket was growing unbearably hot, and thanks to the gallon of hairspray he'd dumped on his head, his slicked-back hair had turned into a literal greenhouse. Hot beads of sweat rolled down his face and dripped onto the desk, forming a small puddle. The puddle reflected Egrer, sporting a nervous, thirty-two-tooth smile and a tomato-red face.
It wasn't like he was stuck inside the crater of an active volcano; on the contrary, a fan was pleasantly whirring nearby. He was just nervous. Very, very nervous.
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
Only this ceaseless sound let him know that time was still moving forward. The ticking came simultaneously from three directions: from beneath the glass floor, where impossibly massive gears were turning; from outside the window, where an even larger second hand swept by; and from the desk, where a perfectly ordinary clock of perfectly ordinary size sat.
Obviously, the owner of this office was crazy about gears and mechanisms.
Ding-ding!
The clock chimed, announcing that the six o'clock mark had been passed. The Headmaster of Beacon flinched slightly, as if waking up. He took a sip of coffee and looked at the applicant sitting in front of him. Egrer didn't flinch.
"Egrer Peleni, correct?"
"Yes."
Egrer would have given anything for this office to turn into the basement of a Mistral police precinct. He wished Professor Ozpin sitting in front of him was an angry, corrupt cop, and that the candy bowl on the desk was blackmail material regarding some horrific crime. That kind of scenario would have been so much more familiar to him than all this good-natured politeness.
The Headmaster took another sip, lazily and sleepily shuffling through Egrer's documents.
Egrer had imagined this conversation many times. He had pictured himself looking honest, eyes burning with passion, convincing Professor Ozpin to accept him into Beacon. He had imagined Ozpin finding inconsistencies, trying to corner him, and Egrer skillfully dodging every trap to earn a hard-fought spot in the coolest, most advanced, and most famous Huntsman academy in the world.
But in those fantasies, he definitely wasn't trembling like a leaf, and the Headmaster hadn't acted so... if not indifferent, then certainly detached.
Ozpin kept flipping through the papers, sipping his coffee. His old-fashioned glasses slid slightly down his nose as he tilted his head, and the brown eyes behind them closed for noticeably longer than a normal blink. He looked old, but he really wasn't. If you ignored the white hair and his choice of clothing—which had been in style maybe fifty years ago—you'd give him thirty, tops.
"Tell me about yourself, Mr. Peleni," the Headmaster finally said, closing the folder before even reaching the middle.
"But my biography is already in there."
"It is much better to hear stories straight from the horse's mouth, isn't it?" The applicant panicked internally at Ozpin's smile. Egrer started smiling too—a nervous, strained, and completely unnatural smile, the one he usually wore when he was panicking or lying. "If you don't know where to begin, start from the beginning. Though the joke about the creation of the world lost its charm sometime in the last century."
"Ha-ha, Professor," Egrer replied, drawing out his vowels to buy himself a precious second to formulate a normal answer. "You saw right through me."
"You wouldn't believe how often nervous applicants use that joke to delay the inevitable. But it always catches up to them. It has caught up to you too, Mr. Peleni. Please, tell me about yourself." The Headmaster pushed the candy bowl toward him, doing his best to soften the atmosphere in the room.
But without knowing it, he was only making things worse. Even the simple, polite tone he used felt terrifying to Egrer. Egrer wasn't used to being treated this way. Besides, the Professor was an incredibly powerful Huntsman. No, strike that—he was the strongest Huntsman in the world.
The Hero of Mount Glenn. The man who had graduated from Beacon with honors, spent a few years on intense field missions, and returned as a teacher before eventually becoming Headmaster. He was a man who had seen it all.
The fact that such a powerful figure was speaking so gently to weaklings like him was inherently strange and suspicious.
"Thank you." Egrer took a jellybean but instead of eating it, he just nervously rolled it between his fingers. He couldn't force himself to eat, just like he couldn't force a coherent thought into his head. He needed more time. "Can we skip the part about the miserable childhood of a poor orphan?"
"We can."
"And that's how I ended up here." Egrer spread his hands, as if to say, Ta-da, here I am.
That was what you did when you wanted to skip the "overly personal" details. Like burglaries, grand theft auto, and other unsavory activities that respectable Huntsmen shouldn't engage in. Things you really shouldn't advertise if you wanted to stay out of a prison cell.
Ozpin smiled, and that smile made Egrer even more anxious. The corners of Egrer's own lips treacherously crept upward again. For a while, they just sat there, smiling and staring at each other.
Oh, Twin Gods, Egrer thought. I must look like an idiot right now. Or worse—an idiot hiding something terrible.
No one would believe he had quit the criminal life instead of just moving up to the big leagues. As the saying goes: he who steals an egg will steal the hen. There was probably some terrifying secret hidden in the dungeons of Beacon, and no one would care that a retired thief knew nothing about it. They'd just throw him in a cell and throw away the key.
"You are the first person in the last two years to fall into such deep despair that you managed to turn that ancient joke upside down," Ozpin joked.
To him, it was a joke. To Egrer, his heart was currently beating somewhere in his throat.
"I'm not in despair. I'm just nervous. I'm applying to Beacon, after all. This is a very important life event."
"Well, your anxiety is understandable, Mr. Peleni. Since you find it difficult to maintain a dialogue, let's take the easy route—I will ask questions, and you will answer them as honestly as possible. Deal?"
"Deal."
An interrogation! Egrer thought. Finally, I'm back in my comfort zone! Not that Egrer was a master liar—quite the opposite—but it was a familiar dynamic.
"Let's start with the most important thing. How would you describe yourself as a person?" The Headmaster leaned back in his chair, taking a candy from the bowl. "As honestly as possible, please."
"Well, I get along easily with everyone, I'm optimistic... um... sorry, nothing else comes to mind."
"It's rare for anyone to truly know themselves, so don't be upset. Even so, characterizing yourself with words like 'brave' or 'smart' isn't very accurate."
"Then how am I supposed to talk about myself?"
The Headmaster took a sip from his mug. With a smile that sent shivers down Egrer's spine, he asked: "What would you do if your friends were in mortal danger?"
"I'd help them, of course." Egrer frowned, totally losing the thread of the conversation. Any Huntsman would risk their life not just for their friends, but for anyone. It was too obvious a question. Being a hero was the main requirement of the job. He adjusted his jacket, which was suddenly feeling way too tight, and added, "Isn't that obvious?"
"And if the enemies are stronger and outnumber you?" Egrer really, really didn't like how his previous question was ignored.
"We'd need to hide and come up with a plan."
"And if you are already backed into a corner? What then?" The Headmaster leaned slightly closer, looking right into his damn eyes. It was so intense that Egrer answered without thinking.
"We have to run away."
It sounded like anything but what a Huntsman would say. "I-I mean... that is..."
"No need," Ozpin interrupted the stream of incoherent babble. "I apologize for pressing you, Mr. Peleni, but I wanted the most honest answer. Why the sad face?"
"Huntsmen don't do that."
Those who chose the path of fighting the world's evil couldn't be cowards. Egrer had hoped that in Beacon, he could either change his habit of running away from stronger opponents, or at least hide it... but he had completely botched it on the damn interview.
"Correct. Huntsmen never run. They are always prepared and can handle anything." Egrer slumped even further. "At least, that is how a Huntsman must appear in the eyes of a common person. They must be a hero. What are the Grimm, Mr. Peleni?"
"Um, they are monsters, Professor." Egrer was completely confused. What was the point of these wildly different and disconnected questions? Was this some progressive interrogation technique? If so, nobody in Mistral knew about it.
Egrer didn't actually know much about the Grimm. He had encountered them occasionally during flights between kingdoms, but his foster family had always handled them.
"They are drawn to negative emotions and kill anyone they see. They're strong, fast, and outside the walls, they're everywhere."
"Correct. And a Huntsman, simply by being present, is capable of giving ordinary people faith in their salvation. And when that happens, the only target for the Grimm becomes the Huntsman—a trained, armed fighter who attracts them with the brilliant shine of their soul. Do you understand me?"
"Not really. You're changing the subject very fast..." Egrer smiled his idiotic smile again.
"My point is that a Huntsman must look like a hero, but they shouldn't be one. Heroes don't live long, Mr. Peleni."
Now Egrer's brain was definitively trying to crawl out through his ears and escape his skull.
"The Huntsman profession has two primary tasks: killing Grimm and saving civilians. We teach the first part at our academy. The second part is primarily handled by the media. Anyone bearing the title of Huntsman can save hundreds of innocent lives just by showing up, because they are seen as heroes, and they give others hope for salvation. And hope is the brightest emotion of all."
Suddenly, something clicked in Egrer's head.
"I get it. Huntsmen are elevated as invincible heroes so it's easier for them to do their jobs. So they are simultaneously heroes and... no, wait, I don't get it."
"Yes, yes, that is precisely it, Mr. Peleni." The Headmaster chuckled and took another sip of coffee. Surprisingly, Egrer didn't get the chills from his smile this time. He actually felt a little better. "I told you all this so you wouldn't feel ashamed of your decision to run away if the enemies are stronger. It is the correct decision. The war isn't lost as long as you are alive. Don't forget that."
Egrer sat up straight and squared his shoulders. The Headmaster's words gave him so much strength that he was ready to step out and fight legendary monsters right this second. He wouldn't actually do it, of course—otherwise, what was the point of the Professor's speech? It certainly wasn't to send another "hero" to his grave.
"Well, I think I have a rough idea of what kind of person you are, Mr. Peleni." Ozpin took a sip from his mug and looked intently into Egrer's eyes. Egrer grew nervous again; the lingering silence was only making it worse. "You aren't going to correct me?"
"Correct you on what?"
"I see. So it doesn't bother you if someone accidentally calls you human?"
"Aaaah, you mean that!" A massive weight lifted off Egrer's shoulders. "It doesn't bother me in the slightest. Even though I'm a Faunus, I'm not going to get offended over such a minor thing."
His Faunus heritage was so subtle that Egrer himself sometimes thought of himself as human. Only in his passport, under the 'Race' section, was the word "FAUNUS" written in bold red letters.
"You have a very unusual heritage. With it, you could easily hide among humans..." Ozpin stared intently at Egrer's teeth, which was easy to do since Egrer's idiotic smile hadn't faded.
Egrer's teeth were completely normal and drew no attention. But behind them, deep in his throat, was something only a doctor might notice. A unique structure of his tonsils and pharynx allowed Egrer to growl and howl exactly like the wolves whose heritage he had inherited. It also gave his voice a heavy, raspy quality, making him sound like a chain smoker.
The Headmaster caught himself and stopped staring at his mouth. He had probably just zoned out with his eyes open for a second.
"Tell me, why did you decide not to hide your racial identity? It would have spared you a lot of trouble with discrimination."
"It disgusts me, Professor. Besides, in Beacon, I won't face that kind of danger." He could have delivered a passionate speech about how it's useless to run from oneself, how hiding one's true nature is dishonorable... but seriously? As if the Headmaster wouldn't see right through that.
"I am glad you aren't running from yourself, Mr. Peleni," Ozpin said. Or maybe he wouldn't have seen right through it. "Let's continue. What can you tell me about your combat training?"
Egrer had been taught dirty tricks and feints by absolute scumbags. He was the undisputed hide-and-seek and escape champion of the Mistral slums. Naturally, he couldn't say a word about any of that—right now, he had to play the part of a good boy and a conscientious young man who wanted to help people.
Fiddling with the top button of his jacket, he began his story, slowly stretching his vowels.
"Before enrolling in a Huntsman prep school..." A blatant lie. Egrer had never attended any school. "...I picked up knowledge from various Aura users, anyone I could get my hands on."
Well, technically, they were the ones getting their hands on him, trying to rob him, kill him, or force him to work for them. That usually led to a brawl, from which he extracted many valuable lessons.
"I see."
"For the most part, I only fought humans, not Grimm. You know, the whole poor orphan childhood thing and all that. Then I got very lucky and was adopted by a tight-knit family of former Huntsmen."
"Oh, that is very good." Professor Ozpin smiled again and took a candy. "To be honest, I was worried that this year Beacon would receive too many broken young people who had lost something important and believed that power would solve their issues. But power never solves those kinds of problems. I hope your family made you happy."
Egrer had no idea how to respond to that, so he just nodded. He felt simultaneously touched and slightly intimidated, remembering what the Professor himself must have gone through to earn his fame and position. Egrer's family wasn't exactly great—otherwise, he wouldn't have run away from them—but he couldn't call them evil, either. No one exploited him, took their anger out on him, or humiliated him. And it had actually been fun being with them.
"Yes, they are great people." The Headmaster made a slight motion with his mug, prompting him to continue their previous topic. "Dad taught me how to use firearms, and Mom taught me melee weapons. After that, I started helping them and the police catch criminals."
"Mr. Peleni, let me clarify something: do you actually have experience working with the police?"
Oh no! Egrer mentally screamed. Did the Headmaster really decide to nitpick this exact detail?! Damn it, what do I say? My brain is fried...
Yes, he had experience working with cops. But the cops were corrupt—like everything in Mistral—and together they did illegal shit. Technically, that was "experience working with the police," right?
"Well... it was a rather unique kind of experience. My parents and I acted sort of like detectives." They would track down thugs who refused to pay them protection money or disrespected them, and then sick the corrupt cops on them. That was probably one of the reasons they eventually had to flee to another kingdom. Nobody likes a snitch. "Then we had to move to Vacuo, but we didn't settle there either. Since then, we've just been traveling the world."
The Headmaster listened attentively, sipping his coffee. Judging by his sly gaze, he knew Egrer was hiding something. It made him nervous.
Ozpin glanced at his clock.
"Our time is coming to an end, Mr. Peleni. I will ask you one last question, and please, answer as honestly as you can."
"Alright." Egrer tensed up, fighting back the idiotic smile that begged to surface. He remembered some of his fantasies where he elegantly dodged Ozpin's suspicions. If he was lucky, this question would be one he had prepared for. Even though he knew his rehearsed answers were entirely useless, they kept him from panicking prematurely.
"Why did you decide to become a Huntsman?"
Egrer hesitated. That was not the question he was expecting. It showed, because his idiotic smile finally broke free of his control. But he had to answer.
He definitely didn't want to become a Huntsman to save ordinary people. His goal was much more selfish, and he was terrified that because of it, he would be rejected. Gathering his will, Egrer picked up the guitar case from the floor—the one he always carried with him, and which the Headmaster had been eyeing periodically.
"It's... because of discrimination." He felt incredibly stupid under the Headmaster's curious gaze. Especially since, earlier, Egrer had claimed that discrimination didn't bother him in the slightest. "You see, Faunus aren't allowed to perform at official events. All we can do is play in crumbling pubs in the slums."
"But you can easily pass for a human."
"Yes, but I want to become a great musician, and I want everyone to know that I am a Faunus. I... I guess I want to change the world. Change how people view the Faunus." Egrer started stammering. "And Beacon... well, people treat Huntsmen completely differently, even if they are Faunus. If I graduate from this academy, no one will dare stop me."
God, that last sentence sounded so stupid. Like he was some stereotypical movie villain, honestly.
"Mr. Peleni," the Professor said seriously. "A Huntsman's career is extremely dangerous. You can't just get a diploma and never work in the field. You will have a debt to society. You will be obligated to risk your life, and you will not die of old age—I can guarantee you that. Your dream is worthy. There are many similar individuals among Huntsmen. But is it worth your life?"
Egrer realized that his admission depended entirely on his answer. It wasn't even the Headmaster deciding; it was Egrer himself. Was he ready to risk his life to become who he wanted to be? He had made that decision a long time ago, fully understanding the dangers of the path, but right now, looking into Professor Ozpin's eyes, he didn't know what to say. Perhaps he should finally turn off his exhausted brain, stop planning every word, and just jump off the cliff.
"Yes."
For a few seconds, the Professor looked at him in silence, his gaze piercing Egrer's very soul, skewering his insides on spikes while simultaneously roasting his body in hellish Grimm fire.
"You are accepted."
Ooooh, sweet bliss! Egrer melted into his chair, turning into a puddle of soft, contented liquid. Even the room felt cooler. His jacket was no longer suffocating him, and it fit perfectly once again.
"Thank you, Professor."
"You'll thank me if you don't die during Initiation," the Headmaster whispered, barely audible.
"Did you say something?"
"I wished you good luck in your studies, Mr. Peleni," Ozpin said pleasantly. "Now, let's not keep your friends waiting."
Egrer immediately stood up, said a polite goodbye with a traditional Mistral bow, and headed for the elevator. It was the only entrance and exit to the Headmaster's office, which happened to be located at the very top of a towering structure. Beacon was, quite literally, a magical place—a castle out of a dream.
Though it still didn't quite measure up to Atlas Academy. What could be cooler than a flying fortress bristling with a thousand cannons, ready to deploy an air fleet into battle at a moment's notice? Yeah, Beacon was definitely lacking an absurd number of guns poking out of every orifice and giant Gravity Dust engines.
As Egrer stepped into the elevator cabin, the Professor suddenly spoke:
"Remember, Mr. Peleni, a Huntsman does not have to be a hero, but even so, they must have a good heart. I believe that even the most terrible people on this earth can regret their actions and wish to atone for their sins. Have a good day."
The elevator doors closed on their own, taking him down to the first floor.
Apparently, Ozpin had just subtly hinted that he was fully aware of Egrer's criminal past. That was probably why the Headmaster hadn't bothered to look too closely at his forged documents.
But Ozpin probably wouldn't do anything about it. If the Headmaster didn't want him among his students, he simply wouldn't have accepted him into Beacon.
"Everything is fine," Egrer muttered, trying to convince himself. Despite all logic, his wildly beating heart refused to calm down. "Relax your jaw. If the pack sees you grinning from ear to ear, they'll start panicking too."
Stepping out of the elevator feeling simultaneous waves of incredible relief and heightened paranoia, Egrer slumped onto a bench next to his friends. Friends who shared similar dreams and goals. None of them actually wanted to be Huntsmen, but it was the only path that could help them.
"How did it go, Eg?" Yort, having lost most of his Vacuo tan, sprawled on the bench as if it, and the entire academy, belonged to him. Apparently, his habits as a former Vacuo crime boss hadn't died out yet. Or was he a consort, or whatever it was called? Or just the son of an influential businessman? Deciphering Vacuo politics was even harder than understanding Mistral's, and Mistral was a total swamp.
"I think I got busted," Egrer replied. "But I got accepted anyway. Give me a minute, I need to gather my thoughts."
"Yort Alnen, please proceed to the elevator," Ozpin's voice echoed through the intercom.
"Alright, boys, wish me luck." Yort licked his palm and tried to smooth down his blonde, thuggish hair, but it remained as spiky and pineapple-shaped as ever. Giving up, he punched his leader on the shoulder. "I'm heading in."
"Good luck. And hey, try not to lie too much in there. The Headmaster saw right through me."
"Pfft, you lie like a five-year-old girl. No wonder."
"Bite me."
In Beacon, teams had to consist of exactly four members. That was why Egrer had decided to find his friends in advance. It was better to figure out if they meshed well beforehand. He had heard far too many stories about teams falling apart or constantly fighting to ignore the risk. Unfortunately, there was no guarantee they'd end up in the same group—Initiation would decide everything, and nobody knew what kind of crazy test the teachers would throw at them.
For example, last year, applicants were tossed out of an airship into a desert and told to find colored ribbons while fighting off hordes of Grimm. Naturally, there were four ribbons per color, but some were buried deep in the sand, while others were lost during the chaos of battle. In short, far too many people ended up without ribbons to simply expel them all, so the staff decided to accept everyone. It was the only Initiation in Beacon's history where every applicant actually got in. Nobody even died that day.
Egrer felt stupidly resentful that he hadn't applied to the academy last year, but how was he supposed to know there would be such a free pass?! Man, it would be awesome to have a Semblance that could see the future, but he doubted he'd unlock anything like that. A Semblance is tied to a person's personality, and Egrer figured he'd unlock something non-combat oriented. But he was perfectly fine with that. After all, he intended to dedicate his life to music, not fighting Grimm or rival gangs.
The guitar resting on his knees warmed his soul. Egrer couldn't resist playing a few chords; he was in too good a mood. Even a simple Beacon hallway put him in a musical mindset. This was a magical place, and perhaps the lack of a personal fleet and cannons was exactly what made it feel that way. (But Atlas was still cooler).
After his talk with the Headmaster, Egrer felt a sense of peace and joy, which he expressed through the melody. Another fat checkmark had been placed next to a step in his grand plan, and very soon, he would be able to do what his soul truly desired. Hah, it would be awesome to unlock some kind of musical Semblance! All he could do now was hope Ozpin accepted his pack.
"Guys, what do you think they'll pull for this Initiation?" Egrer asked without stopping his playing.
His old friend, like all native Mistralians, had sleek black hair and almond-shaped eyes. Because of his pale skin and slight anorexia, people often mistook him for a runaway from a terminal illness ward rather than a Huntsman-in-training. But a Huntsman's strength isn't in his looks. Illmond was one of the best fighters in their group—better even than Yort.
He was the only one in the pack who had actually graduated from a Huntsman prep school, but Illmond had grown bored of the whole thing. He was generally quite fickle when it came to hobbies. Immediately after graduation, he became obsessed with drawing, seemingly forgetting that he possessed such unique combat skills. And whenever asked why he decided to come to Beacon with them, he would always dodge the question.
"I don't really care." Illmond tore his eyes away from his scroll for a second, turning his sleepy gaze—framed by massive, almost bruised bags—toward Egrer. He blew his bangs out of his eyes and went back to looking at memes on the extranet.
"Our pack's integrity depends on whatever happens in there! You can't just 'not care'."
"But I don't care. My guessing won't change anything. If the teachers come up with some degraded, brain-dead way to split up the teams, only the Twin Gods can help us."
"Madge, what do you think?" Egrer turned to the only girl in their all-guy group. She flinched, snapping out of her trance of... counting dust motes in the air? Or whatever she was doing, poking the air with her finger.
"I thiiink," she tapped her chin, "it'll be something interesting. Like raisins in a bun! You never know if they're in there or not."
"Actually, they write that on the packaging." Talking to Magenta was always an experience—simultaneously impossibly difficult and childishly easy. But you couldn't blame her. It was all genetics and her Faunus heritage: hair as colorful as butterfly wings, and a head just as empty. Insect Faunus were always difficult to deal with. They were too weird. "Whatever, thanks for the answer."
"I hope you buy the raisins without the buns. I don't like buns..."
Oh man, I just hope she gets accepted, Egrer thought. If the Headmaster rejected her, then he was a heartless bastard.
————————
"Ozpin, there are far too many unscrupulous students applying to Beacon this year. And by 'far too many', I mean no statistic can accurately describe what you've turned our academy into."
"What do you mean by 'unscrupulous students', Glynda?"
After a long, exhausting workday filled with endless paperwork and impatient teenagers carrying naive but bright hopes, Professor Ozpin was taking a stroll through one of the gardens of his brainchild—Beacon Academy. His Deputy Headmistress, however, was attempting to ruin his walk, trying to force him to reject a few rather interesting, albeit less-than-honest, students.
"When I say 'unscrupulous students,' I mean exactly what I say. The number of forged diplomas, doctored medical records, and fake stamps is simply baffling! This is a school, not a criminal den!" Glynda took three wide strides, overtaking the Headmaster and standing squarely in front of him. "You cannot let this slide."
"And what can I do, Glynda?" Professor Ozpin asked tiredly. Right now, he regretted leaving his coffee in the office more than anything else in the world. He glanced at a nearby bench, sat down, and patted the spot next to him. But his Deputy, it seemed, wasn't tired enough to appreciate the gesture. "Some are running from their pasts, hoping for a better future. Some seek revenge and justice. And some are simply bored with their old lives. I cannot deny them this path. This is exactly what makes them Huntsmen. They just need to learn a few clever tricks."
"Don't try to defend terrorists and criminals," Glynda hissed, glaring angrily at the faintly smiling Headmaster. She could not and would not tolerate such a blatant violation of the rules. Just as Ozpin had said—this was exactly what made her a Huntress.
"Glynda, I know you want to keep the children safe, but they will have to face far worse things than a few reformed scoundrels."
"Don't speak as if that justifies putting them at risk before they are ready." She took a deep breath, gathering her courage to continue talking back to her mentor.
In the brief moment of silence, Ozpin closed his eyes and enjoyed the birdsong, gently stroking his cane. Despite all his calmness and patience, he was beginning to reach that line where his voice would naturally start to raise.
"Ozpin, you often talk about thinking ahead, but I don't see you practicing what you preach. These criminals will be studying alongside the best of the best. This will lead to unimaginable disasters in the future. Remember Raven."
"And you remember Qrow. He managed to change and became our indispensable friend."
Ozpin thought differently. He knew that by gaining what they lacked in the past, these children would become better versions of themselves. They would overcome their fears and fix their flaws. Not all of them, but many. However, Glynda didn't understand this yet. She was just as young as the students she taught. A decade and a half didn't make much difference, regardless of what Glynda herself thought.
"You shouldn't let them in here. They will destroy what you have spent so long building."
"Perhaps." There was no force or words that could make her accept a violation of rules she deemed just. "You know my stance on this. And I do not intend to change it."
Glynda said nothing more. She honestly tried to understand Headmaster Ozpin, but she always missed one crucial detail: people change, constantly, with every step, every thought, and every breath. She was as rigid as her convictions and rules; it was hard for her to understand the flexible minds of others, especially children. But she was trying, and sooner or later, she would succeed.
"We still haven't decided what Initiation will be. There is only a month left."
Her active nature had found a new excuse for work. Ozpin respected her for that, but sometimes he hated her passionately for it too. Right now was definitely the latter. He couldn't help but imagine throwing Glynda off the cliff near Beacon into a Grimm-infested forest, stripping her of her weapons and most of her Aura.
Now there's an idea!
"I actually have an interesting thought regarding that. We need to discuss it."
This year promised to be very interesting.