Chapter 38

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"Hello, Leo."

Arthur Watts elegantly sat across from the Headmaster of Haven Academy.

"I-I- Leonardo is fine," Lionheart's hands trembled slightly. He reached for the tea, pouring himself and Watts a cup.

"Nonsense," Watts threw a hand up, "This is a mutually beneficial relationship, is it not? Call me Arthur. I insist that we at least be amicable," he smiled.

"Or the Queen may not be very happy about it."

"Yes, A-Arthur," the lion faunus swallowed.

"Very good," Watts smiled, apparently satisfied.

"Have you done what I asked?"

"I... yes..."

Lionheart looked down at his hands, shame pooling in his stomach. He had given them the locations of all the freelance huntsmen in Mistral. All of them.

And they were all going to die in the next few hours. Killed by Salem's henchmen.

"There, there," Watts patted his shoulder, that condescending expression of his sitting on his face, "You did what you had to do, didn't you?"

Lionheart did not answer.

He was horrible. A horrible person, a horrible huntsman, a horrible headmaster.

"You were counting on Apollyon to come save you, weren't you?" Watts deduced, his lips curling upwards in amusement.

Again, Lionheart did not answer.

Watts snorted, and then chuckled, slapping his knee, "You- You truly thought? Apollyon hasn't the slightest inkling of your situation, and you were hoping for him to come save you! How stupid can you be!?"

He guffawed, laughing all the way to the moon. It was a cruel, mocking, arrogant laugh, that only caused Lionheart to shrink in on himself with every sound that came out of Watts' mouth.

Lionheart had to cover his ears from how much Arthur Watts continued to laugh, the disgraced Atlesian scientist seemingly finding his verbal degradation amusing.

When Watts was finally done, Lionheart lifted his head up slightly.

"Ah yes, where was I?" Watts scratched his chin in thought, "Have the two little Beacon teams arrived yet?"

"What?" Lionheart tried to act ignorant, as if he were surprised.

"Leonardo," Watts shook his head sadly, "If you keep this act up, I may have to report this little... insurrection, or rebellion, of yours to the Queen."

"I- of course. Sir," he added.

What had Ozpin expected from him? He was an old, retired huntsman, with no protection from the forces of Salem. He couldn't resist without putting his futile life on the line...

"And?" Watts prompted.

"No, they have not arrived yet."

"Good. And the Spring Maiden?" Watts asked seriously.

"I don't know," Lionheart admitted.

"Hmph," Watts scoffed, "You're just as useless as I thought you were. Oh well. What useful information do you have?"

"I..."

"That's what I reckoned," Watts sighed in disappointment, "What kind of headmaster even are you?

"A cowardly one! The cowardly lion, oh the irony!" Watts guffawed, holding his stomach from laughter.

Lionheart ducked his head in shame.

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