There was next to nothing to find on Tyrian Callows other than brief mentions that implied the man had existed, and that he'd been lost in a sudden fire at a psychiatric facility. Further reading into that from Ren revealed that the facility had been something of a dumping ground for lost causes, with the expectation that they were so ill they couldn't function in everyday society, and so far gone that there would be no coming back.

A hospice in all but name.

It was crushing to see proof his dream was real, and he was glad that everyone was too busy training for the festival to notice his mood. Team RWBY especially. He just knew Yang would want to know what was up with him, and Ruby would nudge and needle in an attempt to help him. Right now, he was in a bad enough mood that he might have snapped at them for it. It was different with his team, and he was once again thankful he could be honest with them and just tell them what he'd seen and how it was affecting him.

They knew more than even Oobleck did now and were closer than before – even if the Nora and Ren relationship issues were probably never going to get solved, and even if Pyrrha still had feelings for him that he couldn't reciprocate.

It was better than nothing.

In the end, there was only one person he could go to for answers, even if he knew they wouldn't be forthcoming. It was late in the evening when Ozpin made time for him in his new office. Glynda had taken over his old one and Ozpin had stolen hers, converting it to suit his tastes. It had an almost medieval look and feel to it, with a suit of armour and heraldry on the walls alongside racks of weapons.

Ozpin – or Oswald – was balancing on one hand on his desk when Jaune arrived, somehow supporting his whole body in the air, legs spread. Calisthenics, Jaune thought it was called, but he couldn't help but think the old man was just showing off. That or enjoying his newfound youth a little too much.

"Mr Arc. Good evening." Ozpin pushed off the desk and flipped to his feet. "What brings you to my humble abode? You haven't altered anything, have you?"

"No."

"Good. Good." Ozpin swept out a chair with one foot then another for himself. He sat. "Take a seat. My door is always open – more so now Glynda has taken most of the paperwork off my plate." He chuckled. "I'm not sure she quite appreciates the bump in pay now she's seen what it comes with."

Jaune's smile was weak as he took a seat. "Sir, do you know of a Hazel Rainart?"

"I'm afraid the name isn't ringing any bells."

"Because he knows you, sir."

Ozpin, sensing the change in tone, raised a hand in a placating gesture. "I'm not trying to deceive you, Mr Arc. I've been alive for a very, very long time. Throwing a name at me out the blue isn't going to jog my memory. Whether you believe what you saw in my dream or not, I've lived for millennia."

Jaune didn't believe him.

"Hazel Rainart had a sister. A Gretchen Rainart."

"Gretchen, Gretchen." Ozpin's eyes widened. "Oh." Those eyes slowly closed. "Yes. Yes, I remember him now. And her. One of just another series of mistakes on my part. She was a student of mine, and one with a vast amount of potential. Potential that my enemies saw as a threat."

"You covered up her death," Jaune accused.

"I did no such thing," Ozpin argued back. "Miss Gretchen died on a personal mission from myself, that much is true, but what would there be for me to cover up? The purpose of that mission was private, yes, and kept confidential as a result..." He trailed off. "But— Ah." His eyes widened. "Is that how Mr. Rainart took it?"

Jaune was cautious. "How do you think he took it?"

"Badly, I know, but... I meant for him to be safe, to not look into what could put himself in extreme danger. If the boy had gone out there then he'd have surely been killed by Grimm." Ozpin's face twisted. "I knew he blamed me – and he has a right to – but I did what I could for Miss Rainart."

"And her brother?"

"He would have been protected by Beacon's insurance."

Jaune frowned. "Insurance...?"

"Yes, of course. We're a school. We have to have insurance for just about everything, be that to cover costs when you and your friends start an overly destructive food fight to if one of our students loses a limb to the Grimm and needs expensive treatment and rehabilitation. What, do you think we just expel wounded students? Throw them out onto the streets to suffer and die? Beacon would be torn apart by angry parents if we didn't have some measure of responsibility."

With every word, Jaune's temper... well, it didn't cool, but it angled itself in another direction. He had a sickening feeling as to where this was going.

"What would have happened to him, then?" he asked.

"When a student of ours has a dependent – mostly siblings but not always; teenage pregnancies are discouraged here but accidents do of course happen – then they register those dependents with us. In the event of injury debilitating a student, there is a stipend to ensure they are safe. In the event of death, a large payout is made from us to them."

"Beacon pays them...?"

"The insurance company pays them if we're being transparent, but our premiums go up as a result. The idea is that we have failed to adequately protect the one caring for them, so we should in turn make sure that the individual is cared for to the best of our ability. Mr. Rainart would have received compensation, though I'd obviously understand if he felt it was a slap in the face. No amount of money can make up for the loss of—"

"He didn't receive compensation."

Ozpin trailed off.

The man looked stunned. Honestly, completely, utterly flabbergasted. "What...?"

"Hazel Rainart didn't receive a lien," said Jaune.

"But... But he must have." Ozpin was stammering now. "He had to have. It's an automatic process. It—" The man wheeled away from him and behind his desk, logged onto his computer and typed away furiously. It took him several minutes. "Here!" he said, sounding equal parts relieved and terrified. "It's here. The insurance company's email dictating the payout and term."

He waved Jaune over, apparently uncaring of the confidential nature of the document. Ozpin must have known where this was going as well and wanted to prove his innocence. Maybe not only to Jaune, but to himself. To find out for sure that he hadn't made some colossal mistake and sat on the payment and left a child to suffer.

And he hadn't. Jaune read the email and everything looked in order. It dictated the amount – over a million lien – and the recipient, one Hazel Rainart, surviving family member of Gretchen Rainart. It also detailed the increase in Beacon's premiums to come in the next financial term as a result of the payout, and a reply from Ozpin saying he understood and accepted the increase.

"Hazel never got it," Jaune whispered. "His landlord turfed him out a week or two after his sister died."

"No, no, no." Ozpin was frantic, drawing up more emails from the company.

"He's still alive," said Jaune, "though he hates you—"

"But what about the others!?" Ozpin cried, furiously typing away. "If it could be one then it could be more!" The man stood, knocking his chair back. "If this was one mistake then that's bad enough, but if it were more – if there were more."

Ozpin shuddered and pushed away from the computer, grabbed his jacket and rushed for the door. "I have to go! This has to be dealt with!"

"But—"

"We shall talk later, Mr. Arc!" he boomed angrily. "Later!"

The door slammed shut.

"I didn't even get to mention Tyrian..."

/-/

It was all on the news come the following day, and it was a huge scandal. Several executives in the insurance companies had been, with the assistance of their accounting teams, fudging the numbers on their payouts and making them close to impossible for people to receive. In other cases where the victims had been young, they had instead turned the payments into monthly stipends – which made sense given the ages involved – but then found any excuse they could to delay, slow, or even cancel them later.

And without letting Beacon know.

The scandal didn't go as deep as Jaune feared, with only around seven effected, but that was deep enough for Vale and Beacon – who were demanding heads roll over the issue. Already, the insurance company was blaming former execs and harsh trading conditions, but this wasn't some dodgy company laying off its employees. This was a firm leaving children orphaned or bereft of their caretakers out to dry, and at least one of them had committed suicide as a result.

There was blood in the water and corporate apologies wasn't going to be enough to escape retribution. Which was good, as far as Jaune was concerned, but now he worried about the letter Hazel had received. The one that had penned all this as Ozpin's fault – because call him a poor judge of character but he couldn't help but think Ozpin's absolute fury had been honest. Sure, a man like that could have tricked him, but the insurance company had done all this, and the scandal was very much real.

"Is this your doing?" Ren asked him later.

"Yeah. But not intentionally."

"It's good either way. Your Semblance may save these people."

"If they can find them in time. And it won't save them, it'll just slowly begin to repay them for the shit they've been through."

"That's a good start," said Pyrrha. "And it'd have never been exposed without you."

"This wasn't Tyrian, though. Was it?" asked Nora. "This was the other one. Why get their dreams now? Is it your Semblance reaching all the way to Vale, or are they in the forest? They'd have to be close. Should we search for them?"

Jaune wanted to say yes but ultimately shook his head. Someone had reached out to Hazel and framed Ozpin. Someone had broken Tyrian out the mental facility. And even if Tyrian was a victim of his own father, the sane Tyrian was trapped, falling endlessly into madness. If the dream was to be a literal translation of his mental state, then it implied someone else was in control and piloting the body.

Who?

And why both their dreams like this?

"It was good of Mr. Oswald to spearhead this when you brought it to him," said Pyrrha. "He really is a great teacher."

They all scowled at her.

/-/

He never did get the chance to talk to Ozpin about Tyrian, because the Vytal Festival interrupted it. The previous night had been spent in the dream of someone panicking about their fight and it all going horribly, horribly wrong, and even if it wasn't him panicking, it was still enough to stress him out come morning.

"We'll be fine!" Ren said, as they flew up to Amity. "We have Pyrrha."

"That's even worse! If she has to carry us, then no one will take us seriously!"

"No one is going to take us seriously anyway," Nora pointed out. "As far as the media is concerned, we're Team PYRA, led by Pyrrha, consisting of Pyrrha, with the sole purpose of Pyrrha."

Team RWBY, within earshot, laughed.

"You'll do fine, Jaune," Ruby cheered, trying to be helpful. "We're all in the same boat."

"We absolutely are not! You're fifteen, so any failure on your part will be washed away by people saying they couldn't have expected more of you! I'm Pyrrha's team leader. I'm going to be blamed if she so much as chips a hair follicle!"

The only good part was that he only had to fight in the 4v4, then he could delegate and let the others handle the following rounds. Was it cowardly? Maybe, but this wasn't life or death and it was also just common sense to pick the best fighters to move on. Everyone was doing it.

Once they landed, they were all dragged away by officials to the competitor area away from the crowds, then forced through a long-winded itinerary by another. The man explained everything from timing to expectation to how they should and should not compose themselves, and what level of sportsmanship was going to be expected of them.

As if anyone would dare do otherwise. Even Cardin wasn't dumb enough to show any racism of arrogance live in front of millions of people. If a child fell and scraped their knee, every student in Beacon was going to fight to be the one to put a plaster on it – faunus or otherwise. That was, of course, not entirely relevant for everyone right now. Those competing had to stay in the competitor stands or in the changing rooms, but once they had completed their match – win or lose – they were free to roam.

And free to be interviewed, which prompted another talk on what they should and should not say, and how they shouldn't be dragged into what the media would try and drag them into – a dick-measuring contest between schools and kingdoms.

"Do not be tricked into insulting other schools!" the man growled. "That's what they want. They want the drama. You are all proud huntsmen and huntresses. The only side you have is your side against the Grimm! We are all of us allies!"

It went on and on, covering everything from how to stand, when to enter the arena, when to fight, when to stop, what to do if a fire broke out, if Grimm attacked, if terrorists attacked, if a disease outbreak attacked, and even if Amity just spontaneously decided it didn't feel like defying gravity today and they all went hurtling back down to Remnant.

Which was a concern he hadn't harboured until the man brought it up, so that was nice.

"How likely is that to happen?" Ruby asked nervously, hand raised.

"Not too likely."

"Is that 1% not too likely or 10% not too likely?" asked Cardin. "Because I'm agreeing with Rose that your answer isn't nearly comforting enough."

"Look, it's not crashed before," said the official.

"First time for everything," someone muttered.

"Aren't we floating over the city?"

"In the event of lost control, we shall aim to not hit the city of Vale," said the official, fighting to regain control. "So, you needn't worry—"

"You'll aim to not hit? I aim to be on time for lessons but I still miss the odd one. Can you maybe do more than aim to not annihilate the city? My family lives down there."

Yang nudged her sister as the panic rose. "Nice one, sis."

Ruby buried her face in her hands.

The man eventually managed to drag people back to the matter at hand, finishing his presentation before stomping off muttering about needing a drink. At that point, a fresh-faced official arrived to take them to the competitor stands down by the front and ask them – beg, really – to not cause any arguments or fights that would damage the reputation of the festival.

Which was a little harsh, but Weiss pointed out that there had been a brawl at the Vacuo Vytal Festival a decade or so ago, in which a lot of the competitors had been out enjoying the nightlife and found they couldn't handle their drink the next day. The brawl hadn't killed anyone, but it had spilled out the stands into the arena and provided for the audience an impromptu free-for-all performance of some forty or so students trying to bash one another's brains out.

"That sounds amazing!" cheered Yang.

"You would say that, Xiao-Long."

"Not to re-enact it," she hurriedly said, "But, like, imagine how cool that would have been for the crowd. I almost want to go find a video of it."

Cool or not, everyone was rather determined to not repeat that, and Jaune had a feeling anyone who tried wouldn't just be expelled from Beacon, but possibly expelled from Remnant. Miss Goodwitch would certainly do her best to make sure they entered low orbit, launched by her Semblance.

Their fight ended up being third.

Jaune gulped and prepared for his doom.

/-/

In the end their fight had been a reminder that things were never as bad in real life as a person could imagine them to be. They'd won, and though there were some things Jaune would have liked to have done better or different, they were outweighed by the things he'd felt he'd done well. As good a performance as could have been hoped, and downright impressive given he'd only unlocked his aura at the start of the year.

If the audience knew that, they'd be calling his performance miraculous.

He'd come out the worst in terms of grim, however, such was the duty of the team's tank with his shield and larger aura reserves, so he sent Ren on ahead while he stayed to work it all out in the showers. He stood under the water for several minutes, hearing the faint sounds above of cheering as a new team was chosen. Over the speakers that reached downstairs, he knew it wasn't Team RWBY and that was all that mattered. If he wasn't needed to cheer on his friends and girlfriend then he'd happily enjoy a longer shower.

When he was too shrivelled to stay, he stepped out the shower and reached for his towel, accepting it from the outstretched hand. "Thanks Trivia," he said, nodding at the small girl with different eye colours and bringing the towel up to his face.

He was halfway through drying his face when his mind clicked.

Jaune's shriek was not girly, despite what anyone would have said. His hands flew down, slamming the towel over his bare crotch like he'd been caught walking over an airflow grate in a skirt and was trying to push it down.

Trivia had her arms crossed and was leaning on the wall with a smirk.

"How much did you see!?" he cried.

Trivia raised her hands.

And held a finger up on each, several inches apart.

Jaune's face burned red. "It was shrivelled from the shower, okay! A—And even if it was like that, it's not the size that counts—" Trivia's smile grew. "Why am I even arguing this with you? W—What are you doing here!?"

Trivia reached behind her and, to his shock, pulled out a foam finger.

It was a Pyrrha Nikos one, but her name had been scribbled out and "JAUNE" had been written – or rather, cut – jaggedly into the foam. Trivia then raised and pumped it once in the air.

"You... You came to support me...?"

A smile and a nod.

"I'd hug you if I wasn't naked." Her eyebrows wriggled and suggested he try anyway. "And turn around! I need to get dressed."

With a huff, she did as he asked, and when he was dressed he turned back himself to find she'd been facing him the whole time.

"When did—?" Trivia smiled. "You're the worst. I hope the show was worth it."

Her hand made a so-so gesture.

"You don't get to peep on me getting dressed then criticise the show as mediocre. And put your purse away. You're not making it rain on me." The girl pouted and did as he said. "But seriously, Trivia, you can't be here."

She looked to the men's sign on the wall.

"Yes, also that, but I mostly meant Amity. You're a wanted criminal."

Trivia pointed at him, then made a ring around her neck, held her hands up like paws and mimed a happy bark.

Jaune blue screened.

"Can... Can you do that again? That was so cute."

Scowling, she offered him the middle finger.

"Okay, okay, you're here about the message from Ozpin." Her eyebrow rose. "Uh. Oswald and Ironwood, I mean. It's complicated. Let's sit down."

He took a bench in the changing room and, despite there being enough benches for a whole sports team, Trivia sat in his lap. He closed his arms around her stomach automatically. Her feet kicked happily between his and under the desk, her gloved hands settling on the backs of his hands as she smiled like a happy child.

"Okay, so, Roman got himself captured but we're all pretty much aware he's only doing what he had to because of Cinder. Are we right?" Trivia nodded. "Great. So, we've tried to offer him a plea deal to roll on Cinder but he's obviously afraid of her. I think he's afraid of you being hurt by her as much as himself."

She rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue, showing she could make those kinds of sounds. He got the impression she was saying Roman should worry more about himself than her, and given he'd been captured, Jaune couldn't help but agree.

"Roman has offered to turn on her only if we can prove you're safe from her. How, exactly, we're meant to do that I'm not sure, because I doubt you'd be willing to surrender to Atlas." A shake of her head, and pink hair tickling his chin. "I thought not. I mean, I wouldn't feel safe surrendering to them either. Is there some kind of proof I can show him, then? Something you own or some secret password?"

Trivia tilted her head back to pout up at him.

"I meant password like a handshake. But I also know you can write." She stuck her tongue out. "Oh, come on. You're so lazy." He pinched at her sides, making her eyes widen in panic before she descended into silent giggles. It was a scratchy sound, her laughter the rush of breath from her lungs without vocal accompaniment. He kept tickling her until she stuck an elbow in his gut. "S—Sorry. Hey, did you ever find Neo by the way? I know you're looking for her."

Trivia's smile was somehow both amused and sympathetic at the same time. One of her hands came up to gently pat his cheek as if to say he shouldn't worry himself over it.

"Leave it to you...?" A smile and a nod. "Fine, but I still worry with Cinder out there. You've been safe, right?"

Again, she nodded, and this time poked his chest with arch eyebrows.

"Yeah, I know she'd probably sooner kill me than you but I have the whole of Beacon to keep me safe and you've been on your own in Vale. But I'll trust you to look after yourself if that's what you're saying. So, do you have anything I can give Roman?"

Trivia nodded and climbed off his leg, then stood and closed her eyes. Her shoulders rose and fell and she tucked her hands into her sleeves, concentrating for several moments. He had no idea what was coming, only that it took intense effort on her part. Finally, with eyes snapping open, she brought her hand back out her sleeve.

Holding a black, lacey object.

Jaune's face turned bright red. "I'M NOT GIVING HIM YOUR BRA!"

Trivia burst into silent laughter again, then stuffed it in her pocket and instead reached up to remove the necklace she wore around her neck. It was a collection of string-like beads of various dark colours, and she hadn't stopped giggling when she tossed it over to him. Jaune grumbled and pushed them into his pocket, still not making eye contact with the bra she'd removed without taking her top off, and which she was now spinning around a raised finger.

"You're going to be the death of me, Trivia," he grumbled. "But I'm glad you're okay and I'm glad I got to see you again. And I'm happy to know you watched my match. I'd ask if you thought I did well, but I get the feeling the answer will be mediocre."

The girl shook her head, smiled, and held a thumb up. It was a nice gesture. Then, she darted forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. He leaned in to hug her as well, whispering a quiet goodbye and good luck before she shattered into fragments of light and slipped out the changing room, mere seconds before a dirty group of men entered. They must have just finished their fight.

"Still here?" asked one.

"Sorry, I'll get out your way," Jaune replied.

"No worries, man." One of them sighed and went to take off his top, then paused. "Uh. You might want to hide that, though." He pointed. "Not that I don't understand having a little celebration, but I've a feeling you'll get in trouble."

Jaune knew exactly what he'd find but checked the back pocket of his jeans anyway. Something lacey and warm was dangling out of it.

Damn it, Trivia.

Troll gotta troll. It's the law.