If there was one thing the auburn haired woman that was striding through the corridors of the Starlight Tower knew, it was that she hated Council meetings. The constant arguing and wasting time and doing nothing but stall various decisions for as long as they could. All of which delayed her ability to go through the mountain of paperwork on her desk every morning, which in turn delayed her ability to go home on time.

Damn Moss, would it have killed her to tell her about the bloody paperwork?!

In short, Absinthe Campbell, née Arnold, would go as far to say that she loathed Council meetings. Especially if they took place at six in the fucking morning.

On the sole plus side, Sikarra was now gone. He'd been found guilty of 'Conspiring to grievously affect the education of the Atlesian Youth'. That being a political shorthand for 'trying and failing to have the Headteacher of Atlas Academy killed'. He was in a comfortable, but highly secured prison, from which he was unlikely to ever leave.

It had been a decidedly...unpleasant experience, being shot. True, in her days as a specialist, she had been shot, stabbed and even bombed at one point or another. But she was wearing her body armour on those occasions, not what she wore to work. She hadn't needed to wear armour since she became a Professor at the Academy. And whilst her aura had saved her life, the attack had still taken her out of commission for ten weeks.

Yet even being hospitalized hadn't spared her from paperwork.

Jet Nuncio had taken his place as Councillor. He was probably the youngest member of the Ruling Council for decades at the age of thirty-one. Originally, he had been part of the 'Atlesian Diplomatic Service', but had turned to politics in recent years, ostensibly to get himself out of the Atlesian Embassy in Vacuo. He had made himself incredibly popular in Mantle, even gaining support from the Faunus citizenry.

Other than that, the Council had remained the same as it had been when she joined it. Clay Haley and Laurel Petrichor remained, although both had made mention of retirement at some point in the coming years. As for General Sleet, he had privately admitted his intention to step down at the Years End meeting of the Board of Captains. In short, very soon she'd probably be the most senior member of the Atlesian Ruling Council.

Brothers help her. As if Ozpin and his bullshit wasn't enough to deal with.

That had been an entirely unwelcome set of revelations. The man had visited her about a month or so after she had taken up her post, and with a curiously knowing smile on his face, explained everything.

The relics, the maidens...the Witch.

To think that her entire career had been practically pointless. Fighting a war that she and her fellows could never, and likely would never win. It had been most..disheartening to discover. But if Absinthe Arnold was anything, she was a professional. She was Headmistress of Atlas Academy, and she would carry on with that duty as long as she was able.

She had saved lives. She had fought criminals and Grimm and made a good difference. Not one that would last apparently, but a good difference nonetheless. She could be proud of that. Captain Hawthorn thankfully kept checking in on her, to keep her appraised as to what was going on throughout the Inner Circle.

Although, if Ozpin would be a little less bloody cryptic, she might actually trust him a little more.

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A pair of purple clad soldiers greeted her at the entrance to the main council chamber. The Council Security forces were the smallest of all the Military branches, and more ceremonial than anything else, a 'last deployment' before retirement. But they were still more than capable of doing their job of protecting them, if that ever proved to be necessary.

One of them opened the doors for her, and she stepped inside. To her annoyance, she was the last to arrive. The other members of the Council were already sitting at the great table that took up most of the room. All had mugs with varying contents in front of them.

"Absinthe!" Nunico greeted with a cheerful wave. "Good morning."

"Good morning Jet." She nodded as she took a seat. "..Apologies if I kept you all waiting."

"You are right on time, don't worry!" He replied with a smile. "I think we can all agree that this is an entirely unreasonable time to have a meeting. If it wasn't for Doctor Watts' insistence, we'd all still be asleep."

There was a round of mumbled agreement from the other Councillors. Absinthe glanced around the table at her colleagues. Whilst Nuncio was clearly awake and aware of things, Haley and Sleet were rapidly draining their mugs, and Petrichor was quite obviously struggling to stay awake, slumped in her chair as she was.

"So, before we have to drag ourselves to the parade grounds.." Nuncio began. "Is there any other business that needs discussing first?"

"Nothing that cannot wait." Sleet replied. "There's some..grumbling from the Yellows, but nothing of any real substance. Issues with the...nature of next week's protest."

Absinthe frowned. "The White Fang one?"

"Indeed. I believe the Senior Captain of Civilian Security even used the words 'Target Practice'." Sleet growled. "It's disgraceful. A Captain should know better than to spread that sort of idea amongst the soldiery. Worse is that it is rumoured that Ghira Belladonna, the current Designated Successor to the Chiefdom of Menagerie will be in attendance."

"..Ah, and I take it you worry for his safety?" Nuncio inquired.

"More than worry, I outright fear for the man's safety." Sleet replied. "To put it in the starkest possible terms, if the Dee-Ess of Menagerie dies on Solitas soil..well, it would be damn near close to a declaration of war on our part. Regardless whether or not the attack on him was authorised."

Absinthe spoke up. "I take it we cannot simply 'encourage' this Captain to step down? That would appear to be the simplest solution."

"Alas not. He is, I am sad to say, my likely successor." Sleet sighed. "I dread to think what sort of General he will be."

"..Look on the bright side." Nuncio allowed an easy smile to cross his face. "Maybe he'll get himself killed or disgraced, and we won't need to deal with him."

"Perhaps we could stop wishing for the death of a man." Petrichor cut in, clearly awake at last. "And focus on what needs dealing with now, instead of months from now."

Nuncio sighed, and waved a hand. "Forgive me. That was poorly said. I do believe there is nothing else, Laurel."

"It is time then." Haley stated as he stood up. "Let us go and witness whatever nonsense it is Watts wants to display this time."

"Let us hope that it has been worth the expense."Petrichor sighed. "I respect the man, but by the Brothers, his projects eat through enough lien to keep half the fleet repaired."

Absinthe could only hum in agreement.

At least it would be one hell of a show.