"Hey, Oz, I'm at the crash site, and if there's one thing I'm not seein' it's Atlas markings. Pretty sure this isn't one of Jimmy's." Qrow Branwen told the man on the other end of the call as he picked his way through the metal debris that had once been a corridor.
About an hour ago—almost dinnertime—, he'd been his way back to civilization from another fruitless hunt when, rather suddenly, a rather massive airship of a design he didn't recognize had flown from absolutely nowhere and slammed into a mountain, creating a rather spectacular sight, and rather surprisingly staying mostly intact afterwards.
Qrow being a curious but cautious sort, he'd immediately dialed up his friend, mentor, and boss Ozpin, and asked if Atlas, the only kingdom he could think of that'd build an airship this big, had any ships passing through Vale territory at the moment. Ozpin had told him no, and asked him to investigate. Qrow being Qrow, he'd wanted answers and wouldn't tell Ozpin no, so he'd said yes and gone to check it out.
So far, though, he'd seen nothing but a lot of wreckage and bodies, some in varying states of dismemberment, some burnt, which bothered him a bit, but was to be expected in such a crash. It's what he hadn't seen that unnerved him; no identifying markings of any sort. And he couldn't even identify the language on a few intact signs and labels on the walls. Considering that he was trilingual, speaking all commonly used languages of Remnant save Atlesian, which he could at least recognize, that was a distinctly unnerving detail.
He shook his thoughts out of his head as Ozpin replied.
"I am unaware of any other Kingdom what would build something like this ship, let alone conceal it."
"Yeah, true, but there's a few things not adding up. Anyway, there's a more intact section up ahead, I'll keep you posted." He clipped the scroll to his belt, keeping the call open.
Normally, he'd have shapeshifted into his crow form, but he didn't want to run the risk of others showing up and seeing that, so he settled for exploring normally.
It took several minutes of picking his way through the damaged but remarkably intact airship before he came to a large blast door, mostly intact, though stuck partly open. He pulled his scroll off his belt.
"Think I'm at the ship's Bridge. Door's open, and I'm going in."
He pulled Bad Luck Charm from it's position on his lower back one-handed, extended the blade, and slipped between the doors.
This is the Bridge, I was right.
He glanced around, slowly, notice the very large amount of bodies, and that most of them weren't burnt, but were all dismembered or disemboweled to varying degrees.
"Lot of bodies in here." He quietly told Oz, carefully picking his way through the corpses and mechanical debris.
He was nearing the most intact console when his instincts told him to freeze.
And as he did so, sometime moved behind him. Several sharp metal edges pressed against the front of his throat, two more against the back of his neck, and he immediately tried to turn before light pressure convinced him not to. Or rather, to consider his options first. He could—
"Nicht bewegen. Wer bist du?" The—person, apparently—behind him asked him something. What he'd been asked, he had no clue. The voice, on the other hand, sounded quite familiar. For half a second, he thought it was Summer, and nearly turned despite the metal blades on his throat. No. It's not her. Too high pitched, too young.
The thought had no sooner crossed his mind than another did.
Wait, like Summer but too young, it's not—He tried to turn again, and the blades tightened again.
"Ich sagte, beweg dich nicht. Wo bin ich und wer bist du?" The voice asked him.
"I can't understand you." Qrow told the voice, not moving. "Do you speak Valian?"
"Valian? Ich verstehe dich nicht wirklich."
"Mistralian? Vacuo?"
"Sind diese Sprachen, Vogelmann?"
"Ja, ist er. Ich bin Ozpin von der Beacon Akademie und du bist in von der Welt der Remnant. Das Königreich Vale, um genau zu sein. Bitte kooperiere mit diesem Mann und zeige deine Identität. Er wird dich zu mir bringen, junger Ritter von Belka, und ich werde es erklären." Ozpin abruptly entered the not—really—a conversation through Qrow's scroll, speaking the same unrecognized language as the girl.
"Ich kenne Remnant oder dein Vale nicht, aber ich werde deine Bitte respektieren. Für jetzt bitte ich nur, dass du mir sagst, wenn wir uns treffen, wie du weißt, dass ich ein Ritter bin."
The blades came away from his throat, and a wet metal sound announced that they'd probably slid back into housings of some sort.
Qrow spun around rapidly as the girl spoke again.
"Ich bin Ritter Haruka Nakajima von der Heiliger Kirche von Belka, dem Dimensionalen Kriegsschiff Archon zugewiesen."
The girl was the spitting image of Summer Rose, save for clothes (damaged black and red armor of some sort, bloodstained as well) and hair length (down past her shoulders, he couldn't see more). It is! It's her!
"Ruby?" Qrow asked with a shaking voice.
"Ja, das bin ich." The girl—Haruka!—looked at him as he said her name. No, she didn't look at him, she looked through him with a thousand-yard stare.
"Do you… Do you remember me?" Qrow asked, taking half a step forward, towards his long-lost niece, collapsing Bad Luck Charm as he did so, and sliding the weapon back onto his back.
"Ich kann dich immer noch nicht verstehen."
She said, and took a few steps backwards, confusion lightly writing itself across her face as she noticed his expression. "Was ist los mit dir? Warum schaust du mich so an?"
"Qrow. Don't try and tell her yet." Ozpin's voice interrupted Qrow again.
"Wait, what? Why?" He turned half-away, and took his scroll from his belt, holding it up so he could see the screen.
"For one, we don't know her circumstances. For all we know, that isn't really your niece, and even if she is, she probably doesn't remember or recognize you, and won't anyone else either. She may not even know where she's from, or that she's not from… Wherever she went, if she really is her." The headmaster told him, ever the wise and collected man. "Please, Qrow. Focus. If you can, bring her to me, we need to speak. At least, I'd like to speak with her."
"Yeah… Yeah. I get it." Qrow took a deep breath, and closed his eyes for a few seconds before returning his gaze to his scroll. "Alright, I'll get her out of here. Was going to anyway."
"Knew I—" There was indistinct noise in the background from Ozpin's side, interrupting him. "I need to go. Never a dull moment as the headmaster of a Hunter Academy." Ozpin snarked, and cut the call. Qrow began to ponder possibilities for communicating with Haruka, given that neither spoke the other's language.
"I think I can understand you now." Haruka's voice derailed his train of thought, the strange language she spoke still audible, but drowned out by a louder version of her own voice that spoke Valian. Qrow glanced over at her. Problem solved, apparently.
She'd taken the cross off of her belt, which had unfolded several sections to point up, above which were bright red holographic screens.
"Well, I could understand that." Qrow told her, mouth twitching at a smile. He heard his own voice, in the same language she spoke.
"And I could understand that. Please allow me to reintroduce myself." Haruka said, and straightened up. "Knight Haruka Nakajima of the Saint Church of Belka, assigned to the Dimensional Warship Archon. I presume that—"
What.
"Okay, okay, slow down. First off, my name's Qrow, Qrow Branwen, and second, what the hell are you talking about?" Qrow was, to put it mildly, confused. And what kind of a name is Haruka Nakajima?
"I am Knight Haruka Nakajima of the Saint Church of Belka, assigned to the Dimensional Warship Archon. I don't know why you are confused."
"Knight?" Qrow asked. "Of a church?"
"Correct." Haruka nodded. "The Saint Church has a small number of combat personnel, and in keeping in with Belkan traditions, we are called Knights. We work closely with the TSAB Armed Forces, hence my assignment to this vessel, the Dimensional Warship Archon." As she spoke, the girl leaned backwards, against what remained of a console.
"Okay, ignoring that last part for now, does that mean you're basically a heavily-armed nun or something?" The corner of Haruka's mouth turned up slightly.
"Not quite, as I chose not to become a nun, but close enough."
"Alright. Next question: what the hell's a 'Belka'?"
"Well, that alone tells me this isn't an Administrated World, not that that says much." Haruka noted, folding her arms across her chest, the metal-on-metal sound partially catching Qrow's attention, but not enough to distract him for her comment.
"Explain, please." He asked.
"Belka, The Belkan Empire, Ancient Belka, whatever you want to call it, was, until about five hundred years ago, the major dimension-faring power in known space. It began to fall when Belka itself vanished, and completely fell when the last of the Saint Kings, Olivie Sägebrecht," Haruka bowed her head briefly, before resuming, "martyred herself to end the Unification Wars. The Saint Church is the modern successor to Belka's traditions, and we are guided by Olivie's teachings." I don't even know.
"Alright then… Dimensional warship Archon? I'm presuming that's this ship, but what the hell's a Dimensional warship?" Was his next question, as he leaned against the side of a still-intact chair, the captain's chair, if he had to guess, arms crossed but still holding onto his scroll.
"A spacefaring warship designed to be able to travel the Dimensional Sea between worlds." She glanced off to the side. "Look, can we get out of here? I don't want to be here any longer, and we can talk elsewhere."
Qrow followed her gaze, and noticed that she was staring with obvious distress at a few of the corpses almost littering the floor.
"Yeah… Yeah, let's go." He agreed. I don't want to run into whatever killed them…