Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This idea has been in my head for about a week now. This is not a true SI, but someone with decent knowledge of the RWBYverse dumped into it.

Now this chapter is going to be a little odd, and I apologise for that, but I hope you enjoy regardless.

(Finally getting around to posting this here. Hope you enjoy)

You know the times in your life that you wonder whether or not the Gods hate you or not? I'm having one of those moments right now.

In hindsight, mouthing off Death or the local equivalent deity was not exactly the smartest idea I'd ever had. Although in my defense, I had just been told I had died out of the blue, so being 'punished' for being upset about being dead was a little harsh in my opinion. But being that Death was Death and I was just some random schmuck that died as he walked to work, I was hardly in any position whatsoever to argue. Frankly I would have thought that there would be at least some leeway.

Not so.

Death obviously doesn't take kindly to impoliteness. The indescribable entity had let out a hiss, and in a move that dashed my hopes for a Pratchett-esque psychopomp, made a gesture with one of Its 'appendages' and sent me careening through the endless gloom of what one assumes is the space between one life and the next.

Light filled my vision, and the constant, clinical beep of a monitor filled my ears, mixing with muffled, distant conversations.

"..Do you know where you are?" A neutral voice filled my ears. I blinked a few times, the light irritating my eyes as I tried to sit up. A plain looking doctor was looking over the top of a clipboard

"...Wha...where…"

"I see." The man sighed. "..I will note it down. You are in the Atlesian General Medical Facility. Don't worry, son. We're the finest medical facility on Remnant. You'll be back to normal in no time."

Atlas. Remnant. Fuck.

"Oh." There was little else I could say to that frankly."I see."

"We also don't appear to have any records pertaining to you, I'm afraid." The doctor continued. "Nothing. No medical, military, financial or work records. It's almost as though you came into existence just before you were found in that snowbank!"

The man let out a laugh at his own statement, which didn't help the growing feeling in my gut. They didn't call anyone, how could they? I had no one. Hell, I didn't even have a believable name. The doctor soon saw my steadily faltering expression, and his smile vanished.

"...Oh." He said. "That is a bit of an embuggerance, isn't it?"

It is surprisingly easy, almost scarily so, to create a new identity here, especially if it was merely a 'temporary' one for medical purposes. My old name did not fit the 'modern' naming conventions and I really didn't want to draw attention to myself. I settled on Casper Schwartz. Unimaginative perhaps, but that was the point (And having a name that effectively means 'Dark Treasurer' was admittedly a little bit awesome.). A 'normal' name, one that would not attract attention of Salem or Ozpin...or worse, canon.

Without money, a home, or anything but the clothes on my back I did the only thing I could in my situation. I joined the army. Admittedly, the Atlesian Military Archive is not the first branch of the military someone might want to join up with when dumped in a fantasy world, but given I know next to nothing about how Remnant actually works, as the show doesn't actually get into the complexities of how the world functions for the people that live in it, joining the one branch of the military that won't actually question my reading of historical documents and deeper research makes a hell of a lot of sense. It was not the most interesting of work, perhaps. But it was safe, paid reasonably well, and wasn't exactly taxing, and only required field work every so often. It let me keep my head down, and get used to my new life, as I don't know whether or not it's possible to get home.

However, whilst all of this seems to have gone in my favour, there is a very large complication: I hadn't arrived at the time of canon. Oh no, that would be too easy. No no no. Thanks to the Vytal festival of all things, I have managed to figure out that I'm over a decade before the start of the series. Which wasn't good to say the least. I don't even know what events happened when in canon. It might have been unimportant narratively, but it's pretty fucking important now!

And with that whistle stop tour, we are brought up to now, two years later, the year 68AW (Or Sixty-Eight years after the Great War). In a random ruined temple about two hundred miles outside Atlas, closer to the literal middle of nowhere than civilisation. The AMA had been sent to investigate why the temple appeared to rebel Grimm, and to see if it could be replicated. They had sent myself and a number of other agents, plus a considerable military team to defend us. Say what you will about Atlas, they defended their own. I roamed the empty, and deathly silent halls with little else to defend myself than the standard military sidearm and body armour. I was the first to reach the main chamber..and discovered that I was no longer alone.

Because there was a little girl currently sat on the altar of the temple, who was sobbing her eyes out. Her hair was black, and she was dressed in rags.

And, as if Death was laughing at me, shockingly familiar golden eyes.

"..What are you doing here, little one?" I hear myself ask her before my thoughts had stopped screaming loudly in my head.

"Mama left!" The girl wailed. "Mama left!"

She continued to cry loudly, and I slowly moved closer. There was an envelope placed next to the girl, and Probably-Cinder didn't stop me from picking it up and openning it. I quickly glanced over letter inside.

My daughter

I know not when you will read this, or even if our lady will allow it. I pray she does.

This was not abandonment, but a blessing, my sweet one. Always remember that. To serve our Goddess in person is the ultimate honour in this world. I pray that I shall see you rise to glory before I die.

Your mother,

Luna Fall

Oh. Oh fuck. This isn't good. I eyed Probably-Cinder over the top of the letter in my hands, and flinched at the sight of the still sniffling child. Letting out a faintly annoyed sigh, I folded up the letter and pocketed it. Kneeling down, I opened my arms out to offer the girl a hug, but the child all but threw herself into them, embracing me as tightly as she could.

How starved for affection is she?!

"What is your name, little one?"

"..Mama says I'm not 'posed to speak to strangers."

I smiled warmly at the child, at least that rule is a thing here. "I see. Wise advice. Well, I am Casper, Casper Schwartz. Now you know my name, I'm not as much of a stranger anymore, see?"

"...C-Cinder. 'M Cinder."

That answers that one.

"Well Cinder...did your Mother tell you why you were here?"

The child shook her head, and hugged me tighter.

The age old advice of not fucking up canon to ensure the usefulness of ones knowledge is decidedly more difficult when it forces you to be an asshole. Abandoning Cinder just so she grows up to be the murderous, if sometimes generic villain I know seems...wrong. It wasn't right that I had, even for a moment, honestly considered leaving her here. Alone and abandoned. Again.

….Well fuck it, if canon really wants me to interfere that much, I might well have a go at making the world a better place. Especially given it seems Cinder is a few years younger than she's supposed to be ...unless she's malnourished. I'm..not certain what would be worse, actually.

Letting out another sigh, I shifted my arms, and lifted the girl up. Cinder blinked as I did so, and looked at me questioningly.

"Come on, little Cinder. You can come and wait for your mother at our camp. It will be far more safe than this old ruin, not to mention warm. She will be able to find us there."

The child's golden eyes widened a little at what she didn't know was a colossal tempting of fate, but nodded in agreement with a quiet: "Alwight."

My life just got even more complicated than it already was, didn't it?

Chapter Text

To say that the soldiers spread out across the ruin were surprised that I had found a young child in the ruins would be a major understatement. Half of them looked at me as though I'd grown a second head when I'd tried to explain what happened, and Cinder being shy hadn't helped. Her insistence on looking away from them and refusal to speak earned her a number of raised eyebrows, but regardless, the soldiers opted to escort the both of us back to the airship that was functioning as our base in the field. Despite the unemotional front many members of Atlas' military put up, they were good people, and not ones to allow a child to be abandoned in a ruin. Pragmatism would say that they escorted us back because a child is useless in a fight, a liability, and whilst true was absolutely not why they were doing so. Many of the younger soldiers had young siblings, older than Cinder perhaps, but around her age. The older soldiers on the other hand, they had children or grandchildren about Cinder's age. The thought of willingly leaving a child in danger was frankly unconscionable for them. It was duties like this, genuinely 'heroic' acts, that they truly enjoyed doing.

Slowly, we made our way out of the winding halls of the ruin, the faded pictures on its walls not even encouraging another glance from us. Whilst no doubt important, the other archivists can take pictures of them for later study, along with collecting any relics or easily transportable rocks or the like. Right now, my priority was getting Cinder out of the ruin, back to camp, and get her warm.

I should probably have mentioned, I'm wearing the typical body armor that Atlesian soldiers do with the brown highlights that denote my being part of the Atlesian Military Archive. The white metallic armour only covers the upper half of my body and arms, with the rest, including my legs, only have a padded material that's something between leather and wool, for protection. I'm lacking the helmet, although I do have one, currently stowed away at the bottom of my locker under a varied and copious pile of random crap. The lack of a helmet is probably a good thing, given it provided Cinder with a moderately friendly face, even if it drew her eyes to our similarly dark hair.

"...Mister Casper? Sir?" The small girl asked aloud.

"Yes Cinder?" I replied, keeping my voice level and kindly.

"Where are we going?"

"Our main camp, Cinder. It's an airship touched down in a clearing." I explained, before allowing myself a small smile. "Have you ever been in an airship?"

"N-No sir…" She hesitated, desperation and worry slowly starting to fill her voice. "B-But..I-I..."

"You..don't need to call me 'Sir', Cinder." I told her gently. "Casper's fine, honest."

"...N-Not sir?" Cinder asked, in the tone of voice of someone used to false hope.

"Yep! Not sir."

"Oh." Cinder hummed. "..Not-sir…"

"How old are you, little Cinder?" I ask, loud enough for the other soldiers around us to hear.

"I'm five Mister Casper Sir-Not-Sir!"

Five?! How can someone be so light at five years old?! "I see." I share a look with one of the soldiers at our side, and though I cannot see them, there is little doubt that blatant concern is pooling in his eyes. Cinder is small. Small and light. Too small and light for a five year old. And just like that, without even meeting her, Luna Fall soared up our shitlists.

"...I see." I repeat, and smile kindly. "Thank you, Cinder."

"You're welcome Casper Sir-Not-Sir." She chirped, and I could've sworn that I heard some of the others around me chuckle softly.

"Just Casper, Cinder. Just Casper."

Lieutenant James Ironwood kept a neutral expression on his face as he watched my group approach the airship we're calling a base. He was younger, obviously. Lacking his later cybernetics, save perhaps the implant above his right eye. He took a large gulp of coffee from his mug, a vile dark blend that was undrinkable to everyone but him. He placed the mug down on the ground beside him, and cleared his throat.

"Archivist Schwartz." He addressed me in a plain tone. "Would you care to explain what the f-..what in Remnant's name is going on?"

"...I'd love to, Sir. Unfortunately, I'm still figuring that out myself." I smile. "We found this little one in the main chamber. 'S is Cinder Fall, sir. Figured it'd be best to get her the hell out of there as fast as I could."

The Lieutenant let out a long suffering sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath, and looked Cinder over. "...You did the right thing, Archivist. But you do understand that her presence here complicates matters."

You have no idea, Jimmy. "I am aware, sir." I replied. "Although with respect, I'm pretty certain 'random mystery child' would complicate almost anything."

Ironwood merely nodded once. "A fair point…..and something I'm certain will end up in the damn handbook."

I bite back a laugh as exasperation starts to fill Ironwood's voice. The current General of the Atlesian Military is an old traditionalist, a racist and frankly a puppet of the council, who barely knew how to wipe his own backside unless he was told to do so. "The General does love his handbook."

"...Indeed." Ironwood commented in an even tone. "That he does. I won't tell him you said that, don't worry."

I smile, inclining my head. "Thank you sir."

"...I am aware you are young, Archivist Schwartz, but you will be responsible for her. She seems attached to you already." Ironwood told me with a faint smile. "I'm afraid it means office work here at base, but it'll be safer for the gi-..for Cinder."

"Understood sir." I replied, offering a salute. "A little paperwork never hurt anyone, ex-"

"Except Cherry in accounting, yes I've heard the saying." Ironwood chuckled. "I have no idea where it came from.."

"I...don't think anyone does.." I shrug. "Just one of those office mysteries, perhaps."

"..Dismissed, Archivist." The older man commanded with a small smile and a salute.

"..Yes sir." I replied, returning the salute as I headed off.

With any luck, I'll be able to bullshit my way through the rest of this deployment, and get myself, and Cinder, back to the relative safety of the city of Atlas. So long as I can avoid politics, the White Fang when they turn violent, politics, the Grimm, politics, Luna Fall showing up and politics, I should manage to give Cinder stability for a few years.

Hopefully.

Chapter Text

The room on the airship assigned to me was small, but suited my needs. There was a desk, with a computer linked to the main archive database back in Atlas, a comfortable enough bed, a small bathroom with a shower, and a wardrobe. Spartan, impersonal. Just how the Atlesian's preferred. But it was all of peak quality. Thankfully the Military didn't mess around when it came to its soldiers accommodations, and though each room was pretty much the same, the bed here was almost as comfortable as the one I had back in Atlas. The apartment I own is small, but in the two short years I have been here, it has become home. It wasn't even in Mantle, but Atlas proper, one of the few perks being in the military has allowed me. Sure, it's little more than a kitchen-lounge, bedroom, bathroom and spare room I just use for storage, but home is home.

Cinder appeared not to care about our current surroundings. It was warm, and dry, and safe. It held the promise of a bed and food and company, something she'd obviously lacked for sometime. She was, once she had become comfortable around me, curious beyond words. The moment we stepped foot into my room, she had kicked off her shoes, and jumped onto the bed, happily bouncing away.

I let her have her fun whilst I pack away my field uniform. It's probably been far, far too long since she's been so comfortable or happy after all. I kept a small smile on my face as my room was soon filled with the happy, giddy laughter of the small girl. It certainly beat the usual 'Atlesian Military' updates that would normally fill the silence, spouting the 'Glories of our mighty nation and people', which in reality was often merely relaying the fact that border patrols defeated various Grimm and the occasional bandit or bandit group. Plus, the need to learn what said update said today would give me an excuse to speak with some of my fellow soldiers...and try to get Cinder to interact with other people.

It might not be an ideal way to do it, but it's all I can do right now. But, much as it pains me, first things first. "...Cinder."

The girl stopped bouncing and turned to look at me with a bright smile. "Yes Mister Casper?"

"..You are aware of what will happen if your Mother doesn't show up before we depart, yes?"

"..Y-You'll leave me behind?" There was fear in her voice now. The fear of abandonment. The fear of loss. The fear of being alone, again. "P-Please don-"

"By the Brothers no!" I exclaimed, stepping forward to rest a calming hand on her shoulder. "No..we'd take you with us, back to Atlas. But I'm not su-"

Cinder leapt forward to embrace me before I could continue, her small body shaking as she cried. I simply embraced her, somewhat unsure of how to react beyond quiet "It's okay. Let it out.." and continued to hug her for as long as she needed. It was a number of minutes later that, still stifling, Cinder finally stepped away.

I smile as warmly as I dare, and hold out a hand. "Come on, let's go for a walk."

Slow, hesitantly, she took my hand and squeezed tight. Her golden eyes met mine, and a small, shy smile graced her face. "O-Okay, Mister Casper."

As we walked through the Airships corridors, her small hand grasping mine, we got constant hushed comments and curious whispers and even the odd, cheerful salute from particularly friendly soldiers. Cinder did her best not to catch anyone's eyes, speaking nothing but mumbled 'Hello's and offering nothing but silent waves to those we pass.

"...So Little Cinder." I begin, if only to focus her attention on something other than the strangers around her.. "I think we'll get you settled in, so let's go down to the cafeteria and get some food."

"Yes Mister Casper!" The small girl chirped, and I can't help but smile. She might have been a near complete psycho in the canon timeline, but this Cinder is quite frankly adorable.

"And we'll see if we can't get you some proper clothes too. Warm ones." How she remained even remotely comfortable in those rags of hers, I had no idea. She likely wasn't, come to think of it, and her lack of complaint about it added yet another thing her Mother would have to answer for when I track her down.

"Yes Mister Casper!"

My smile grew slightly.. "..And then get you seen by the Medical Officer."

She blinked at me with a confused expression. "What does that mean, Mister Casper?"

Please. Please be joking..."A doctor, Cinder."

"What's a Doctor?"

Fuck my life.

Lieutenant James Ironwood, the rising star of the Atlesian Military, let out a sigh as he lent back into his chair. As if this ruin wasn't confusing enough with its Grimm-Repelling properties, the fact that someone knew of it, and was prepared to leave their own child there and not inform anyone about said ruin's properties or location was deeply concerning. If Atlas could replicate whatever it was that repelled the Grimm, every city on Remnant would have its security all but assured. They could even expand the Kingdoms territories. The Brothers knew that populations across the world were growing at a rate that would soon strain their limited resources.

But because of the single most horrifying thought he'd had about everything he'd had to deal with in recent days, he was decidedly hesitant to report anything to High Command as of yet. What if it isn't the ruin that repels the Grimm, but the girl?

He privately hoped it wasn't. Better she live a quiet life than one as what amounted to little more than bug spray. Whilst he was loyal beyond words to Atlas, that didn't mean that he was blind to its faults. If the cost of Atlas' safety was a child's life, there wouldn't even be a moral debate or token hesitation. She'd be locked up, sedated, and wheeled out wherever and whenever necessary.

He sighed again, and buried the thoughts deep. Better not to even contemplate them. It was the stress. Yes, that was it. Definitely the stress. He reached for his mug, and took a gulp of what was technically coffee, if only barely.

"...Damn it."

Chapter Text

"Malnourishment...and lack of sleep."

Our Medical Officer is the eldest member of this expedition, and one of the most pleasant, as well. Cole Mann, commonly known as 'Doc', was slightly overweight, balding, and almost always had an easy, calming smile on his face. Which was probably the only reason Cinder allowed him to look her over, aside from my own presence in the room.

Thankfully, his office doesn't have the typical smell of antiseptic I automatically associate with all things medical. Instead, the scent of stale coffee and old books was what filled the air in the room. Not an entirely unpleasant alternative, I suppose.

"Not entirely unexpected." I remarked quietly, to which Mann nodded in agreement. "...Is there anything else?"

"Miss Fall has….a few faded scars." Mann sighed. "..Although I cannot tell what caused them. There is a plus side."

"Oh?"

"There is no evidence to show that Miss Fall has suffered further injuries." The man offered Cinder a smile and stepped away, and the little girl almost instantly retreated back to my side. Mann sat down in his chair, and looked me in the eyes. "A small upside, true. But an upside nonetheless."

"That's something, I suppose." I replied with a sigh, trying not to think about the implications. "...Thanks Doc.."

The old man smiled. "You are very welcome, Archivist Schwartz. Now, may I suggest finding Miss Fall some more...suitable clothing? I very much doubt you'll avoid raised eyebrows if she's following you about in rags."

"Doc, where on Remnant do I find her clothes here?" I ask, half mocking, half serious. If there were clothes here, surely someone would have said already, right?

The man gave me an odd look, and sighed. "Strange as these circumstances are, Archivist, we do have a set plan in the event we need to transport children. There should be at least one change of clothes for Miss Fall in the laundry room. They'll be plain, but far better than what she's wearing now."

I blink.

"Well why the f-..udge am I only learning this now?!" I caught myself, no need to swear in front of a child, after all. "If I had known, I'd have-"

"Calm yourself, Archivist Schwartz." Doc raised his hands in a placating manner. "As I said, these circumstances are strange. I'd honestly be surprised if even a quarter of the people here are even aware of the fact we have spare clothes on this vessel."

I let out a frustrated sigh, and tried not to slump. "...I..apologise, for my tone, Doc."

"Think nothing of it." The older man let out a good natured laugh. "It is not the worst thing someone has said to me, not by a long way."

Whilst I am not surprised, I'll admit that I'm more than a little embarrassed. I always tried not to get angry or annoyed with any medical staff I'd met in my old..in my true world, but even I had slipped up once or twice. "Still, I apologise. You're only trying to help and I-"

"..Acted out of frustration. Which is entirely reasonable." Was Doc's reply. "Think no more of it, Archivist. Truly."

I nod, and let out a deep sigh. "...Will do D-"

"Mister Casper?" Cinder's small voice filled the room, cutting me off. "C-Can we eat soon? Please?"

Doc merely kept his smile. "Go on. Get this young lady fed, then come back here. I shall collect her clothes myself."

I smiled genuinely for the first time I entered the room. "...Thanks Do-..Thanks Cole, I'll owe you one."

"It is the very least I can do, Casper." He shrugged. "And I have little else to do right now."

I grinned, and squeezed Cinder's hand gently. "Come on then, Cinder. Let's get you fed."

"Yay!"

When we entered the mess hall, the mouthwatering smell of freshly baked bread and hot food hit my nose. One of the few faunus on the expedition, Bruno, was head of the kitchen, and by the Brothers did he know how to cook. It wasn't the most glamourous of duties, but he was as competent as he was content, and given Ironwood had an absolute zero tolerance policy when it came to racism, he didn't need to worry about any snide comments about animals in the kitchen or the like. (The ever present threat that he would stop cooking for everyone also helped).

Cinder grasped my hand tighter as the wall of sound washed over us. In hindsight, entering a room full of strangers with someone that clearly is afraid of strangers might have been a poor idea.

Shooting her a reassuring smile, I led her to the back of the line. The sight of a child does get us some odd looks, but no one questions it. Cinder even received more cheerful waves from some of the soldiers. Whilst she didn't return any of them, she smiled in return, albeit shyly.

It entertained her long enough that we didn't interact until we reached the front of the line. I placed my own order, and turned to ask Cinder what she wanted, but was beaten to it.

"..And what can I get you, little lady?"

The young girl turned around from smiling at the soldiers to answer, and promptly froze at the sight of Bruno. Granted most people would if they came face to face with the seven foot tall goliath with very visible and sharp claws that runs our kitchen, but that didn't stop me seeing a flicker of disappointment in the man's eyes at her reaction.

So I do the only thing I can in this situation. I get down low to face Cinder properly, and smile. "Don't worry, little Cinder. Bruno might look fierce, but he's a big softie. Now come on, he's waiting for your order."

"Order?"

"What you want to eat, Cinder." I explained, before picking her up so she can see over the counter. "You have a choice. Beef stew with rice, which is what I am having. Macaroni Cheese. Sausages and mash potato with gravy...aaand what looks like vegetarian stir fry, if you are so inclined.

"Vegamaterian?" Cinder blinks. "...What does that mean, Mister Casper?"

..That answers that one. "It means you refrain from eating meat, Cinder."

"..Oh."

"If it helps, little lady." Bruno's voice cut in. "I can recommend the pasta today."

Whilst she didn't look him in the eye, Cinder actually answered

"U-Uhm….Mister Casper?" Cinder's voice is timid. "A-Are you sure I can eat this? M-Mama never let me eat grown-up food."

Don't ask what she means. You'll only regret it. Don't ask what she means.

"I'm sure, Cinder." I replied as I began eating. "Don't worry."

"It's hot." Came the still hesitant tone. "Mama never let me-"

Say nothing.

"Mhm." I smiled. "Try it."

Slowly, almost reluctantly, she brought a small forkful of pasta to her mouth, and took a tentative bite of food.

Her eyes lit up, and she began to devour the bowl of food with gusto. This is probably a good thing, given how light she is. At least we now know she likes pasta.

However, as I continued to eat my meal, I couldn't help but think I've missed something. So I quickly went over a mental checklist: My armour and sidearm are stored away. Cinder's seen Doc. I've met with Ironwood. The letter….

Ah, the letter. The one from a certain someone that's almost certainly in Salem's pocket, in the 'Goddess' comment is anything to go by.

I probably should've given this to Ironwood.

What's the worst that cou- no. Nope. Not going down that route. Not tempting fate. I know how that usually ends up.

I'll drop it off later.

Chapter Text

As hard as it is to say it, Luna Fall hadn't been a complete and total failure of a parent. Granted, in this instance 'not a complete and total failure of a parent' just means Cinder is capable of washing and dressing herself, which most five year olds are...I think. It has been a while since I've known any other five year olds. That doesn't mean I will overlook even some of her actions even slightly, though. An abusive parent is still an abusive parent even if they've done even some of the bare minimum expected of them.

True to his word, Doc had found Cinder a new set of clothes and...and..

Cinder looked adorable. Gone were the rags she once wore. Instead, she wore a clean, white shirt with matching trousers. This was coupled with a grey sweater vest and thick wooly socks. The ensemble was clearly prioritizing comfort over appearance, something I can appreciate.

"That's better." I said, and Doc nodded in agreement. "How do you feel, Cinder?"

"M-Mister Casper?" Cinder's answer was hesitant. "These clothes smell weird."

I glanced at Doc, who simply shrugged. Kneeling down so as to be as close to face to face as I can, I opened my arms wide, and she happily stepped into my embrace. It was whilst she was in my arms, it dawned on me what she had meant. These clothes are clean, and she finds it strange.

"It's fine, Cinder." I told her. "..It's just what we use to clean clothes. Nothing to worry about,"

"Oh." A puzzled expression appeared on the young girl's face, before giving way to a small, shy smile. "Okay then!"

I let out a quiet sigh of relief, and stood myself back up. Before I could even offer it, Cinder slipped a small hand into my own. It is an odd thing for me to even contemplate, being Cinder's 'safety blanket', almost like her canon counterpart was to Emerald…

Now that was a situation to avoid. Not only was it decidedly uncomfortable on canon-Cinder's part, it can't have been remotely healthy for canon-Emerald.

Speaking of, did we ever learn which city she and Cinder met in?

I shook my head lightly to break myself out of those thoughts. Right now they weren't important. I turned to face Doc. "...Thank you for this. I owe you one."

"Th-Thanks Mister Doc!" Cinder chimed in, almost cheerfully.

The old man smiled warmly at Cinder. "You are very welcome, young lady."

With a nod towards Doc, I led Cinder out of his office. As we made our way through the halls of the Airship, I suddenly came to a halt, to which Cinder looked at me with near alarm.

"I need to drop something off with the Lieutenant, then we'll head back to my quarters, alright?" I told her. "Growing girls need rest, and I need to go over a few things I uncovered today."

"Okay Mister Casper." Cinder nodded, calming down.

I saluted as I entered Ironwood's office. The man had obviously not eaten this evening, if the mountain of paperwork and empty coffee pot on his desk was anything to go by. His eyes darted towards me, and then to Cinder, before he spoke. "Archivist Schwartz, Miss Fall. Is there something you need?"

I slipped a hand into my pocket, and after approaching Ironwood's desk, placed the letter I'd found next to Cinder upon it. "I found this when I found Cinder, Sir. Figured I'd best hand it in to you."

Ironwood sat back in his chair, and raised an eyebrow. "And you didn't give this to me earlier?"

Jerking my head in Cinder's direction, I explained. "I believed I had more important matters, Sir. Such as ensuring the health of our young guest."

Lieutenant Ironwood held my gaze for a moment or three, before nodding in agreement. "That you did. That also brings us to a major point. What is it we should do with her?"

"Sir?" I didn't like where this was going.

"The obvious route would be to place her into the foster system upon our return to Atlas." Ironwood said. "Not an ideal option, but it is nonetheless the most obvious one."

I knew that was coming. I knew it.

"..Lieu-...James." I used his first name for emphasis, protocols be damned. "Do you know how utterly shit our foster system is?"

Ironwood stared at me for a few moments, before closing his eyes and letting out a long sigh. "I do actually."

I froze. "You...You do?"

James reopened his eyes, and smiled sadly. "My past as an FSB is not something I often disclose, Archivist Schwartz. Needless to say, I am well aware of how...woefully inadequate the system is."

"...FSB?" I asked carefully. This was entirely uncharted territory for me after all. This was not part of canon information. At all.

"Foster System Brat, Archivist." Ironwood replied. "...Most FSB's end up as Blues."

"Ah." I will confess, there was very little else I could find myself to say to that. To think that all those fostered children ended up as simple frontline infantry was...disconcerting, to say the least. "I see."

An entirely awkward silence fell upon the room. I was unsure of how to respond to this new, unsettling information. Thankfully, Ironwood came to the rescue.

"...Would you be willing to become Miss Fall's legal guardian, then Archivist Schwartz?" Ironwood asked. "I would do so myself, but.."

"You're in the running for Captain, and a child would negatively affect that." I stated, a small, grateful smile on my face. I couldn't even blame him. There were only twenty Captain's in the entire Atlesian military after all, all of whom answered to the General, and the positions were unsurprisingly highly sought after. Given his canon self, James' rise from Lieutenant to Captain to General and-slash-to Headmaster must have been very swift. Canon is only twelve years away, after all.

"..Quite." Ironwood's reply was cool in tone, a curious mix of frustration, depression and honesty. "...A sad truth, but nonetheless the truth."

I glanced down at Cinder, who was clearly fighting back sleepiness, and dozens of thoughts ran through my head. Did I really want to do this? Was this the right choice?...and most importantly..Am I fit to raise a child?

I knelt down, and picked the little girl up. She quickly made herself comfortable in my arms, and slowly began to nod off. I looked back at the Lieutenant, who kept an expectant expression on his face. "..If I agree to this, I'll need-"

"...Done." Ironwood interrupted me, and held up a hand when I tried to speak again. "..Schwartz, you are not one to make frivolous requests. If you say you need something, then you will actually truly need it. Whatever it is you need, I shall sign off on."

"..A week off to get her settled in should be all I need" I replied plainly.

James looked at me with an odd expression. "...No money to buy her supplies?"

I smiled, my gaze falling to the child in my arms. I remained silent for a few moments, and nodded to myself. "...I should be alright. And speaking frankly sir, if I am going to do this, I'd rather do it properly."

Ironwood nodded in understanding. "Very well. But I want your word that you won't be stubborn about asking for help should you need it."

I nodded. "Done."

Ironwood nodded. "Very well. I shall get the paperwork readied for your signature. That is the least I can do for you, Archivist."

There was a silence, then something almost as unusual as suddenly becoming a foster father occurred.

James Ironwood actually chuckled. "I suppose you'll need to learn to cook then, Casper."

"I'm not Bruno, but I am capable of cooking for myself, thank you very much." I truly did. I allowed myself to cast my mind back to days off, and my apartment filling with the smells of various attempts at making food from my original world. "Cooking for one more, and a child at that shouldn't be a problem, Sir."

I see Ironwood pause for a moment, before he realised who I was talking about, and a half amused, half annoyed look crossed his face. "...Corporal Shen should be addressed correctly whilst in the field. Regardless of his personal preference for informality, Archivist."

I grinned. "Of course sir. Thank you for reminding me."

"...You are welcome, Archivist Schwartz." Ironwood replied, the ghost of a good natured smile on his face. "..Dismissed. Send Adjutant Vocino in on your way out, if you would."

I nodded, and took a half bow given my lack of free hand. "Of course, Sir. Have a good evening."

Ironwood smiled, and nodded in return. "And you, Archivist."

The Lieutenant watched the Archivist leave. He leaned forward, picked up his mug from his desk and took a gulp of coffee, before placing it back onto his desk with a sigh.

Things had gotten complicated fast. This was supposed to be a simple 'Search, Explore and Catalogue' mission. And yet…

And yet..

He smiled. Archivist Casper Schwartz. A curious individual, to be sure. When he first read the man's file, it had pricked his suspicions. Granted, a man with absolutely no past or records...or any evidence that he had existed at all before being found in that snow drift would rouse suspicion in any sane person. But after working with him a few times, that had faded. Schwartz didn't care much for politics, as far as he could tell. He cared about doing the job he was paid to do, to the utmost of his ability. He wasn't an overzealous patriot, like many in the military, and vehemently disapproved of 'altering history' just to suit a political point.

The only thing Schwartz lacked, just like he himself lacked, was a storied name. He was the first Ironwood, and a former FSB to boot. The older families, almost all of which had been nobility before the abolition of the monarchy, still held immense sway over politics even now. A 'first generation' could consider themselves lucky if they managed to get even one family backing them in their bid to be on the Atlesian Council, much less remain on it.

Ironwood's eyes drifted to the letter that Schwartz had brought to him. He moved to read it, but at that moment, Adjutant Vocino walked in, snapping off a salute as she did so. As part of Military Admin, her uniform had Orange highlights, but lacked any sort of armour."Sir!"

Quickly pocketing the letter, the Lieutenant's face turned neutral. He stood up, and moved around his desk to address the Adjutant in a more appropriate manner.

"...Recall anyone we have in the field." Ironwood ordered. "I want to be in the air first thing tomorrow morning. We're going home."

"Yes sir."

Chapter Text

I had let Cinder take my bed that night. Frankly the little girl needed it, so I found myself asleep in my chair, with my jacket as a blanket. It wasn't all that comfortable, but it was restful enough. I even managed to finish off what little documentation I had yet to the previous evening. It was nothing important, if one was being frank. But it needed to be done, I had a week off to look forward to, even if most of it would be letting Cinder settle in, given the only clothes she had were the ones Doc found for her. A week off was a week off, after all. I had been tired when I finally let myself sleep, and somehow managed to remain so on a roller chair.….right up until some poor and unfortunate soul hammered on my door before the sun had truly risen. I snorted myself awake and slipped my jacket back on, before opening the door. "...Yes?"

The person that greeted me was Adjutant Vocino, the woman from the previous night that Ironwood had me send in after me. She had a stoic expression on her face as she addressed me. "Archivist Schwartz, the Lieutenant has called everyone to the dining hall."

I blinked, before nodding. "Alright...now, Adjutant Vocino?"

"Yes, Archivist Schwartz. You have approximately five minutes. Failure to be present will result in appropriate disciplinary action." She curtly replied, before saluting and moving on to the next room, and repeating the process before I could respond.

I glanced over my shoulder. Cinder was still sleeping, and seemingly deeply so. I let out a soft sigh, smoothed out my uniform, and strode out of my room. Whilst leaving Cinder alone wasn't ideal, I was of the opinion that letting the poor girl to just sleep was probably far kinder than waking her up just to hear things she probably wouldn't understand yet.

I made my way through the halls of the airship, and entered the dining hall. Each airship was built to an identical design, so once someone managed to learn how to get around one, they never needed to worry about learning a different layout. Thankfully, I wasn't the last one to arrive. More people entered after me, most of them hiding yawns and sighs.

"Casper!" A voice called out as someone approached me. "Good morning."

"Bruno." I turned to greet him with a smile. "Good morning to you too."

The Panda Faunus smiled in return, and glanced down at my side. "No Little Lady here?"

"Cinder? No, I'm letting her sleep." I told him. "The Brothers know she needs it."

"Indeed, I can understand that." He nodded. "Good to know she's in good hands."

I raised an eyebrow at that. It wasn't supposed to be known yet. "And how do you kno-"

"Our Lieutenant would never willingly put a girl as…..damaged, as Cinder is through our foster system." Bruno said. "And given you are pretty much the only one that she's hung around with without her freaking the fuck out, you are the only real choice to look after her."

Oh. That makes a lot of sense..

We made small talk for a few minutes, talking about our plans for the next few days and the like. Bruno, it seemed, was remaining with Ironwood and headed straight on to the Lieutenant's next deployment. Wherever that might be, right now. I was of the opinion that that was a good thing, due to Ironwood's anti-racist standpoint.

"Good morning!" Speaking of, Ironwood's voice silenced the din in the room, and brought me out of my thoughts. "I apologise for doing this before we've all really had a chance to wake up. But I think I speak for all of us when I say that I wish to get out of the middle of nowhere and back to civilization."

There was a quiet rumble of acknowledgement, before Ironwood continued. "Our mission to investigate this ruin and its properties is, hereby complete. We have enough samples and pictures for the Science Bureau to figure it out. Atlas thanks you for your service and assistance in this matter."

"Now that official stuff is out of the way." Ironwood continued with a wry smile. "Let's get ourselves the hell out of here, and back home. In the sky in ten minutes, Ladies and Gentlemen, and we might make it home for a late breakfast. Get to it!"

"Sir, Yes Sir!" I, and the rest of the expedition spoke as one, before we filed out of the dining hall. Thankfully, as an Archivist, there is nothing I needed to actually do, save maybe 'keep out of the way'.

As a result, I made my way back to my room. Not just to ensure Cinder didn't panic about waking up on her own, but to also pack up my things. Given I'll need to go and get some paperwork sorted out, being able to go home as quickly as possible afterwards is..something I am looking forward to greatly.

My little apartment wasn't just where I lived, it is my home now too. Frankly, despite its inbuilt racism, classism and a whole host of other problems, I'm almost grateful that I arrived in Atlas and not any other Kingdom of Remnant. Whilst it is by no means mentally healthy, the expected, and learnable emotional restraint that is part of Atlesian Social Culture is probably the only reason I've not completely broken down at being lost in this world. And given that sort of thing would probably result in some Murdery Murder Monster of Murder appearing and ripping my throat out in Remnant, I am genuinely grateful for that fact.

I arrived back in my quarters, and thankfully, Cinder was still peacefully asleep. So I simply began to clear my things away as quietly as I could.

Soon, there was a quiet rumble as the engines came to life, and barely a lurch as the airship took off a few moments later. It is a strange thing to fly in near silence, given how loud planes are. But not unpleasant. I had never liked flying before, but now I can at least find it tolerable.

"M-Mister Casper?"

Ah. She's awake.

"Hey sleepyhead." I turned and smiled at her warmly. "Feel better?"

She nodded, and rubbed her eyes. "...W-What's going on, Mister Casper?"

"We're flying, Cinder." I told her with a grin. "Atlas is a city that floats in the sky. So we need to fly to get there."

"Oh.."

An idea forms in my mind, and I grin. "Come here, I want to show you something."

The small girl threw her blanket off, and scrambled to my side. She let out a soft gasp as she saw the sight out of the window.

It would almost be beautiful, were it not for the knowledge that the desolate, snowy land below us was infested by Grimm, and almost utterly lifeless. Not even grass was growing in the expanse below us. The Temple truly had been in the middle of nowhere.

If I had to guess, by the look of absolute awe on her face, Cinder found it to be-

"It's pretty!"

Exactly that.

"It is indeed, Cinder. That is the 'White Sea of Solitas'." I smiled, pointedly neglecting to inform her that, in the days of the Kingdom of Mantle, most criminals were exiled to this vast emptiness. Their various demises were...predictable. Some things she could learn about when she's older. "It is very pretty."

Cinder 'helped' me with packing my things away. She displayed a curiosity prevalent in all children, thank the Brothers. Something even her 'Mother' couldn't take away from her. Good. Whilst, sadly unsurprisingly at this point, she couldn't read, she did ask about every document she passed over to me. I answered as best I could, since there is only so far I can simplify things, even for a child.

That, and certain things are classified. Even to a child.

I managed to string this entire process along for a few hours. Given I intend to drop my things off at home and take Cinder out for breakfast and shopping, the fact that she hadn't said she was hungry yet was…decidedly useful. But at the same time, it was also deeply troubling. Brothers willing, she'll never go hungry again. Not if I get my way.

I was brought out of my thoughts by the sight out of my window. Lights and smoke and...home.

"There it is.." I declared with a smile, as the city...as home came into view. Cinder scrambled onto my lap, and stared out of the window.

"What's that Mister Casper?" She asked with wonderment in her eyes. When I didn't respond for a few moments, she slipped her hand into mine. "...M-Mister Casper?"

"That, Cinder..." I squeezed her hand reassuringly, and smiled down at her. "...is Atlas."

Chapter Text

True to his word, Ironwood had the paperwork ready when we landed. Myself and Cinder had needed to go to his office to meet with someone from the Atlesian equivalent of Child Services. But whilst the Official joined us started off as overly detached, and perhaps even bored, he eventually made a good point. It was rare that a single parent fostered a child, and despite the good word of Ironwood, he was still obligated to investigate as he would in any other case. Something I couldn't, and wouldn't fault him for.

The whole meeting took half an hour, and by the end of it, I was officially recognised as the legal guardian of one Cinder Fall. What this meant had had to be explained to Cinder a number of times, not surprising given her age, but she had summed up her feelings with a simple statement: "I want to stay with Casper!"

And that, as they say, was that.

Cinder held my hand tightly for the entire journey from the Military Headquarters to my apartment block. Unlike with the Airship, she didn't look around at her surroundings, nor at the other people in the streets. She kept her eyes on the ground, and kept squeezing my hand for reassurance. Thankfully, because it was late in the morning, most of the streets were empty. Something for which I was immensely grateful. I really did not want to have to explain why the child I was with was acting so nervous.

Soon enough, Epsilon Heights came into view. A nondescript tower of white-grey brick and glass, near identical to all the others that surrounded it. It was pretty much the same as an apartment block down in Mantle, except for the fact that it was here in Atlas. Which meant that the exterior was clean, and was cleaned every month or so rather than every year or so and, should they be needed, an engineer-slash-electrician would come the following day rather than a few days later.

It wasn't fantastic, but it could be a lot worse. I'd spent my first few months in Remnant sleeping in very cheap hotels, and the less said about that period of my life the better.

Cinder outright refused to get into the elevator to my floor, and was even vocal in her refusal. So, whilst it took what felt like half an hour, we took the stairs up to the ninth floor. The first day was not the time to drop Cinder in the deep end in order to face her fears.

Soon enough, we reached my front door. I did have to explain how an apartment worked to Cinder, but honestly, it wasn't the first question she'd asked me that day, and I had a feeling it wouldn't be the last.

"Here we go, Cinder. Apartment 9D." I told her. "This is us."

I unlocked the front door and let out an almost relieved breath as I stepped inside as the scent and atmosphere and feel of home washed over me. Almost nothing I owned here was overly expensive, I couldn't afford to live in luxury on my salary, but it was comfortable, it was warm, and it was mine.

Leading Cinder inside, I set my bag down, and closed the door behind us. Resisting the urge to simply slump onto the couch, I knelt down to be near enough face-to-face with the child that was still holding my hand tightly.

"Alright Cinder." I began as the child's attention turned once more to me. "I'm going to unpack, and then we'll go out for breakfast. We'll see if we can't get in a bit of shopping for you too."

Clothes, Food, Things for a child's bedroom, Toiletries…..Books...definitely books...I mentally listed off what'd I'd...we'd need to get. I figured I didn't have a hope in hell of getting everything we'll need today, but we should at least get the majority of it sorted out. We did have a whole week before I was due back at work after all.

"It does involve us going out at meeting people." I continued, and Cinder's golden eyes widened in alarm. "But I promise that I will be with you every step of the way."

"..P-Promise?"

"..I promise, Cinder." And I meant it, of course.

She stared at me for a few moments, before nodding with a quiet "O-Okay, Mister Casper."

I smiled. "Come on. This is your new home, remember? I'll give you a tour."

The tour predictably didn't take all that long. Not surprising given my apartment is basically four rooms, but also because I wanted to head back out fairly quickly.

The kitchen-lounge, being the room that the front door opens into, was the first one I showed Cinder around.

The kitchen area itself was small, and having the washing machine and tumble dryer was still decidedly strange to me. But it did what I needed it to, which was the main thing. It was smaller than I was used to, but not so small that I couldn't pull off making more...complex meals when the mood hit me.

The lounge area had a television, a couch and an armchair with a footrest. Given I had lived alone up until this point, I really didn't need further than that. At the far end of the room, I'd long since set up an office area. Sure, it was pretty much a desk, swivel chair and computer, but for all intents and purposes it was my 'office'. Cinder, being as young as she was, didn't care much for the technology, but the chair….She actually laughed when I spun her around on it. True, they were little more than amused giggles, but laughter is laughter!

I opted to go to the spare room next. Given I intended to turn it into her bedroom, I was eager to show it to Cinder before the other two rooms. I opened the door, and led her inside. Boxes were piled upon boxes, the curtains remained closed, and the walls were a frankly hideous shade of grey. Privately, I couldn't truly recall what was in even half of the boxes inside. Having this room was thankfully convenient to store them away. It would certainly be...interesting, to see what they contained.

"This will be your room." I told her. "I'll need to clear out the boxes but-"

"..D-Do I get to pick which box to sleep in?" Cinder interrupted me, with an almost heartbreakingly happy look on her face. "Mama let me do that when we were travelling."

"No Cinder…"I sighed, and tried my absolute best not to imagine an incredibly inventive way to kill Luna Fall...and failed utterly. "You'll have a bed, of course. Along with other furniture. We can paint the walls too, if you'd like. Anything's better than this..muddy grey."

"...Red?" Cinder asked hopefully.

I raised an eyebrow, and fought back a grin. "...If that's what you'd like, Cinder."

"Yay!"

Chapter Text

We headed out about an hour later. Once more, Cinder refused to use the elevator, and I didn't question it further. If I had to guess, I would say she's claustrophobic. Another issue to add to the list.

I led her out of the apartment block and into the residents parking lot where my car awaited. I'll admit I rarely used it, given how close to my place of work I lived. But having a vehicle that could take me into the city made it easier when I needed to buy food and the like. It was, in essence, the Remnant equivalent of a smart car. A small, practical vehicle that got me where I needed to go, and back home again.

Unlocking the car, I opened the door and ushered Cinder in. I strapped her in (and added another thing to the list of things to buy, that being a booster seat), and soon, we were away. It wouldn't take all that long to get into the inner city..and the shopping district. The City of Atlas, despite how futuristic it looked (at least to me), has a fairly simple layout. Apartment towers were in one area, private estates in another. Shopping and restaurants were together, and the education system in general had an area all to itself. There was an entertainment area too, that covered everything from sport stadiums to theatres and everything in between. More than once, for example, myself and a few of my coworkers had found ourselves paintballing at some ungodly hour of the morning...whilst more than a little inebriated.

Atlas Academy (Brother's this place could get confusing. Whoever's idea it was to name the academy, city and kingdom the same thing should have been shot. Or fired. One of the two.) was situated on the central hill of the city, looking down upon the entire city.

Cinder was quiet as we travelled, her eyes focused on the city around us. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her hand twitching, as though it was waiting to once more slip into my own. Had I become her 'safety blanket' already?

First things first though, breakfast. Although given the time, it was probably close to a late morning coffee break. Of course, there was no way in hell I was going to give a five year old caffeine. Not just because I had a mild caffeine addiction already, but because I'm fairly certain it's unhealthy-slash-unsafe for a young child to drink caffeine.

So it was that we found ourselves in Café Rica. It, like most of the cafés in Atlas, was part of a chain. The smell of freshly ground coffee and warm, baked pastries hung heavy in the air, along with the sounds of the general hubbub of daily life.

Myself and Cinder were currently sitting in a small booth, with the young girl at my side currently enjoying her very first hot chocolate, along with a still warm croissant. I opted, unsurprisingly, for coffee. Given the pleased sounds she was making, Cinder was quite enjoying her first breakfast under my care.

I sipped my drink, and let out a contented sigh. It was doubtless going to be a long day, for the both of us. Given that a little over ten hours ago we were still in the middle of nowhere, and we'd yet to even begin shopping, it was almost a certainty that we'd both be absolutely exhausted by the end of it.

"Mister Casper?" Cinder's voice drew me out of my thoughts. I glanced to my side, and was met with her golden eyes.

"Yes, Cinder?" I asked with a smile. "Is something the matter?"

"Is it always this noisy?"

I chuckled, and gently tousled Cinder's hair. "..It can be louder, Cinder."

"Oh."

I smiled as she settled back into a comfortable quiet as she continued to eat. Taking another sip of coffee, I cleared my throat. "Cinder. Do you want to know what we're going to do today?"

The little girl turned to look at me again, and nodded.

"We're going to get you some clothes first." I explained. "Then we'll order some furniture for your room. And on our way home we'll go and buy food."

"...A-And red paint?"

"Ah! Yes, thank you for reminding me." I grin, trying not to chuckle at the pleased expression on Cinder's face. "We'll be getting red paint too."

"Mhm!"

Cinder once more held my hand as we both wandered from the café to our next destination. She, whilst not looking at the people, did look around at the different stores that surrounded us. I was happy enough to answer her questions when she asked, although most of what she asked was what each store sold.

The first thing on our list was clothes.

Thankfully, the salesperson was...understanding of my situation. Which is almost somewhat worrying, given my situation could be summed up with the phrase 'random mystery child'. Was that sort of thing more common than I realised?

It was only after that train of thought went through my head that it dawned on me what she actually meant. A shy child with a single..guardian. I could easily see how that could be a common occurrence.

It took time, but eventually we'd picked out a fortnight's worth of clothes. It was inevitable that we'd need more for Cinder had properly settled in, but it was a decent start, and due to my week off, if I decided we needed to go and buy more, it was an easy enough thing to drive into the city to do so (that, and the fact my car is a small one that could only carry so much).

So, holding hands with Cinder with one hand, and carrying our bags with the other, we began to make our way back to the car, only for Cinder to come to a dead stop, and tug on my arm when we were about halfway there.

I stopped, and looked down at her with a questioning smile. She, with obvious hesitation in her eyes, pointed at something in a store window.

It was a teddy bear. Brown in colour, with black button eyes.

...That thing's bigger than she is! I opened my mouth to question if she truly wanted it, but, given the hopeful look in her eyes, I found my protest swiftly dying on my tongue.

"...Would you like that bear, Cinder?"

She nodded.

"...Alright then."

Chapter Text

We had to return home to drop off both Cinder’s clothes, and her new bear (which she had spent the entire journey happily cuddling). On the way back, however, I did stop into a furniture store to see about ordering Cinder what she needed for her room.

Whilst she hadn’t been at all enthusiastic to leave her new friend in the car, Cinder had a small smile on her face as she followed me around the store. The sales assistant, a teenager that is probably just working here to pay for college, watched us with a faint smile on their face. It took a while, mainly because shopping for furniture is mind-numbingly boring for a child, but we eventually decided on what we wanted.

But that was probably not the most important thing we discovered here. Cinder had said she wanted to paint her room red, so I don’t know why I was so surprised when she found the shade of red that was linked to her in canon. She seemed even giddy about finding it, so of course I got it for her when I placed an order for furniture. The child was nothing but smiles as we headed back to the car. The furniture would be delivered to my apartment about two days later, but given there wasn’t a delivery time, it probably meant that I’d have to spend all day at home.

So it was that we found ourselves on the way to the local grocery store. ALDI (and I will admit that I almost had a heart attack seeing a store with the same name as one from my original world) wasn’t the most fancy of stores, but it was cheap, and the food was of decent quality. If and when I wanted to get higher quality ingredients, I would go to smaller, family run stores. Given how businesses often end up here, I’d much rather support those that actually need it rather than one of the big companies. The fact that most small businesses are run by Faunus is even more of a reason to support them. As we travelled, Cinder once more stared at the city around us.

Thankfully for my wallet, I wasn’t going to go overboard with dinner this evening. When we arrived, Cinder hurriedly dashed around the car to return her hand into mine. The parking lot is small compared to some in Atlas, but it is still a walk to actually get to the store. I picked out a shopping cart, and proceeded to lift Cinder up, and lowered her into it.

“It’s so you don’t get lost.” I told her when she looked at me quizzically. “There’s going to be a lot of people here, and I’d like to keep you safe. Alright?”

“...Alright, Mister Casper.” She nodded in vague understanding. “I don’t wanna be lost.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t be..” I reassured her, then grinned. “Plus, riding in a shopping cart can be fun.”

Cinder tilted her head, and blinked questioningly. I began pushing the trolley, and entered the store. I had a mental list of things I needed to get as I trundled around. When I picked things off of the shelves, I handed them to Cinder so she could place it down into the cart. I will admit, this was purely to keep her mentally occupied and not bored as most children are when they are taken to do grocery shopping.

Cinder asked about everything I handed off to her, and I answered as best I could. Admittedly, most of what she asked was ‘What are we going to use this for?’ or ‘What is this, Mister Casper?’.

 It was her constant, adorable questioning that earned the both of us amused looks from the other customers around us. One of them, an elderly lady, came over and actually spoke to us. Cinder’s shyness around strangers came back strong, and she all but refused to meet her eyes, and answered her questions with one word answers. Thankfully the old lady wasn’t offended, and patted me on the shoulder for ‘Doing a damn fine job as a Father’ before she departed. It was..frankly a little bizarre to consider. It wasn’t an unpleasant thought, upon further reflection.

Cinder Schwartz. That does have a nice ring to it. Of course, outright adoption was off the table right now. Given the strange legal systems here in Atlas, I would need to wait until Cinder is at least seven before I could fully adopt her. But...it would need to be her choice. If she’d prefer to remain as merely my foster kid, that would be fine by me.

Cinder asked more questions when we reached the checkout, mainly ‘How does it work’. Both myself and the woman that was serving as our cashier didn’t actually know the answer to that one. When disappointment began to form on Cinder’s face, I promised her we’d learn how at home.

She did wave at the woman as we left though!

When we arrived at home, Cinder proceeded to pick up her bear from where she had left it, and proceeded to collapse onto the couch, cuddling the bear sleepily. Before I had finished putting away the shopping, Cinder was peacefully snoozing away.

. I turned on the TV, which, once again in an odd twist, is still called a TV here, and sat myself down beside Cinder’s sleeping form as the screen came on.

“-s is Cherry Shire for Kingdom News with a special report.”

I raised an eyebrow. It was a rare thing, even here, for an Atlesian news network to do a special report, so my attention immediately and completely fell onto the screen.

“An Airship has crashed deep into the Mistralli Wilderness. Details at this point are scarce, but unfortunately, it appears that survivors will be unlikely. Among those on board were the Mistralli Tournament Champion, Peleus Nikos, along with his wife Thetis, and their daughter, Pyrrha.”

It was at that precise moment that all my head summed up the news with a single, blunt thought.

...WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!!

Chapter Text

What the fuck. What the actual fuck.

I took several calming breaths, and tried not to curse aloud. The news had continued, but I honestly couldn't hear it thanks to the sudden pounding in my ears. Something about the upcoming Nth anniversary of something or other. I was desperately trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

Was Pyrrha dead? Had this actually happened in canon, unlikely though that might be?

I was thankful that Cinder was asleep so she cannot see me having a mini-meltdown. The last thing she needed to see was her guardian in such a state. She was fragile enough as it was, giving her another reason to freak out wasn't an option.

I slowly stood myself up, and headed into the kitchen. Tea. I needed tea. Atlesian I might be now, but I was and deep down always will be a Brit, tea can solve anything. Or at the very least calm things down enough to think rationally. (It is what got me through University, after all. That and a fuck tonne of other caffeine products, alcohol, stubbornness and more sleepless nights than I'd care to remember.)

I filled the kettle, and as I waited for it to boil, splashed water over my face in a vague bid to calm myself down.

It...shouldn't surprise me. The Brothers knew I'd probably already thrown canon waaay off the rails simply by doing the decent thing and taking Cinder in, in addition to my very existence. It shouldn't surprise me that canon would remain in its 'off the rails' state.

But regardless, when something was shocking, it was shocking. It...shouldn't do. I didn't know her personally. People, as bad and near twisted as it sounds, don't normally feel a deep sadness when people they don't personally know, with the possible exception of national tragedies.

I sighed, and enjoyed the sound of the kettle boiling away, the simple sound providing me with some measure of calm and normality. Once more, I found myself grateful that emotional suppression was practically part of Atlesian culture. Being able to rapidly get a handle on feelings in general was immensely handy (both in this situation, and in not calling the Murderous Murder Monsters of Murder down upon mine and Cinder's heads. I'm fairly certain that'd lose me my guardianship of her quite rapidly indeed).

Back to the matter at hand. Resigning myself to the fact that there was quite literally nothing I could do about 'The Nikos Situation' now, I sighed and prepared myself tea. It'd probably be a good idea to start work on dinner at some point, although I didn't know what food Cinder actually liked aside from pasta and pastries. And alas, whilst those things were good and tasty, one couldn't actually live on them...not for long, at any rate.

So despite the fact that it was obviously a measure to distract myself, I was soon rooting around in my cupboards and the fridge looking for something suitable. Even if I made some of everything, it'd give me some idea of what my little guest ate. The fact that it gave me an excuse to take Cinder out shopping for food again tomorrow and trying to get her to interact with other people was an added bonus. Even a smile, shy or not, could be considered a victory at this point.

I nodded to myself. That was something resembling a plan, at least. The washing up would be a damn nightmare, but it didn't seem right to get takeout on the first day Cinder was here. Only a home cooked meal could truly do on such an occasion. Pizza (or more likely, Mistralli. There were a number of those nearby.) could wait until another day.

I took a deep breath, and stretched out my arms until they gave way to a near pleasant 'click'. Pots and pans and wooden spoons soon found themselves on a side counter, along with more food items than I honestly care to count right now. But I ran over a mental checklist of what I actually wanted to prepare, and what I actually had.

Rice, check. Bread, check. Meat, check. Eggs, check. Vegetables, check….Cake or Pancakes?

Now there was a thought. Desert would be a good way to welcome her here. A mountain of pancakes, with syrup and whipped cream and...

..and I was getting ahead of myself. All I needed to do was make the rest of dinner first. I sighed. All I had wanted was tea and a distraction.

I'd got the latter at least. I thought with a faint smile. And if by some miracle I could pull it off without waking CInder up, all the better.

Cinder Fall felt funny.

Not 'ha-ha' funny, funny 'weird'.

She couldn't tell what it was. She hasn't hurt. Or tired. Or hungry. She was pretty sure she wasn't unwell. So what was it?

Sitting herself up and rubbing her eyes, she looked around the room. Her stuff bear was thankfully still at her side, and the TV was still on, although she could quite understand what the people on it were talking about. But the man was in a suit, so Cinder surmised that he was important, thus whatever it was he was talking about was also important. If it was important, that meant that Mister Casper was probably already aware of it. It was on, so he had to have been watching, right?

She looked around and spied Mister Casper in the kitchen. She got up, holding her bear's hand, and sidled up to his side.

"Mister Casper?" He was nice. He would know what was wrong. He would tell her.

He turned around, wooden spoon in hand. "Cinder?" He asked in a tone Cinder hadn't heard from anyone but Nana Ess and Miss Tabitha. "Is something wrong?"

So she told him, and was as detailed as she could, just as Miss Tabitha had taught her. She wasn't hurt, tired, hungry or unwell. She didn't understand what it was.

Mister Casper knelt down and smiled at her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Oh Little Cinder." He said. "It means you feel safe."

Cinder decided she liked the feeling.

I’m not entirely happy with this one. But given the choice of moving on a few days or showing Casper’s reaction to the last chapter’s climax plus a bit of domesticity, I opted for the latter.

Up next is an arc I’m calling ‘Atlesian Politics 101’, so expect canon typical racism, politicians being politicians and Cinder being adorable. It’ll be a short arc, but then we’ll probably hit the first timeskip.

Chapter Text

Lieutenant James Ironwood drained what was left of his coffee, and let out a deep sigh. After hours of filling out paperwork with Adjutant Vocino and attending meetings with his superiors, they were down to the very last thing that needed to be dealt with before he could actually go home.

Ordinarily, he would have left it until the following morning, when He could give a more detailed report, but Captain Albus Hawthorn, Senior Captain of the Air Fleet, (and the Captains of both Military Admin and Archive) could not be left waiting for very long.

So it was already early evening by the time they got to reading the letter that Archivist Schwartz had found with young Cinder. The 'random mystery child' as the younger man had put it had caused less problems with her existence than she did by actually being where she was. Whilst thankfully an entirely a rare occurrence, a child without any traceable history or family wasn't unusual enough to faze the Military. In areas where bandit raids were more common, it was all but expected that the Blues would find at least one or two children in the aftermath.

But that was not what was concerning...and angering his Captain. No, what Hawthorn was most infuriated about was that someone had apparently known about the ruin and its properties and not told Atlas. True, Hawthorn had little connection to the Science Bureau beyond what was professional, but even he could appreciate the possibility of never needing to worry about the Grimm again.

Although in Hawthorn's case, it was more the power and influence it would gain Atlas rather than the fact lives would be saved that irked the Captain more. For an older, post-UE Captain, having some semblance of Atlesian superiority...or possibly even supremacy, was worth as many lives as it took to achieve. That someone on Solitas hadn't allowed such a state to exist was likely near enough to treason or treachery in his mind.

Right now though, Ironwood was trying desperately to keep a lid on his anger and disgust as he read through the offending letter.

My daughter

I know not when you will read this, or even if our lady will allow it. I pray she does.

This was not abandonment, but a blessing, my sweet one. Always remember that. To serve our Goddess in person is the ultimate honour in this world. I pray that I shall see you rise to glory before I die.

Your mother,

Luna Fall

"Adjutant Vocino." Ironwood spoke, trying to keep his voice calm and even. "What do you make of this..thing?"

The Adjutant glanced over the letter, and remained silent for nearly a full minute.

"...A cult perhaps?" She eventually offered hesitantly. "The fact that Archivist Schwartz found her on the altar would lend credence to that theory. I'd suggest a Bandit Queen from Vacuo or Mistrall were it not for the use of the word 'Goddess'. The Brothers know even Bandits would not risk such..sacreligious declarations."

Ironwood inclined his head. "That makes about as much sense as I think we're going to achieve today. I'll finish up a preliminary report...without using the words 'Child Sacrifice in Solitas'."

"Agreed sir." Vocino replied with the faintest of smiles. "I cannot imagine that..declaration would gain you many friends with the Board, sir."

Brothers, don't I know it. Ironwood thought with a grim smile. "That should at least allow us a few days to actually provide a more….comprehensive answer. And allow us not to want to strangle someone just by reading this."

"Yes sir." The Adjutant paused, and cleared her throat. "..What of Luna Fall, sir?"

A dark look crossed Ironwood's face. "..I'll put in a note with the Yellows. But without actually knowing what she looks like, I very much doubt there is much they'll actually be able to do."

"...I assumed so, sir."

The Lieutenant let out a sigh, and ran a hand through his hair. "...I'll get this wrapped up. You can go home, Adjutant."

"..Are you certain sir?" She asked. "I truly do not mind remaining.."

"I'm sure." He grinned a little. "There's little point in both of us to be late going home tonight."

The Adjutant held his gaze for a few moments, before giving a reluctant nod. She packed her things away, and stood up from her desk. "..Have a good evening, James."

"..And you, Jade."

In all honesty, I really should have seen it coming.

Whilst Cinder got herself ready for bed, I had dug out a spare blanket and a few pillows from the 'Room of Many Boxes'. I was, after all, sleeping on the sofa until Cinder's room was set up. It wasn't that big an issue. I'd slept on the couch for the first few months of buying my apartment before I earned up enough to properly furnish a bedroom. It wasn't uncomfortable, but the sooner Cinder's room was ready, the better.

The little girl had eaten dinner in contented silence, not being overly picky with what she ate. Privately, I hoped that this was due to her having genuine preferences, and not just that 'the choice Luna Fall gave her was eat or starve'. She had quite clearly enjoyed the pancakes though.

Whilst I didn't exactly have any books to read her at bedtime, I managed to pull off a highly Remnantified version of Goldilocks, so I could at least be pleased with myself for that. I tucked her in, and after a warm 'Goodnight', I departed the room, I eased the door closed as quietly as I could.

As I did so, I could have sworn I heard a "..G'night, Mister Casper".

I began to finally make myself a cup of tea, and soon settled onto the sofa. There was a documentary on the old Mantellian Monarchy I had wanted to see for a while, and now was as good a time as any to see it.

But not even fifteen minutes after I had closed the door to my room, however, did it slowly creak open. And with all the subtlety of a baby Polar Bear painted bright red (that is to say, none whatsoever), Cinder slipped into the main room, dragging her bear along behind her. I stood up, and strode over to her, a concerned look upon my face.

"Can't sleep, Cinder?" I asked her.

Cinder shook her head.

I smiled kindly, and offered her a hand which she took almost instantaneously. "...Alright. Let's see if we can't fix that, hm?"

She smiled, and followed me back to the sofa, and soon curled herself up at my side. I'll admit, I was tempted to carry her back to bed...but truthfully, I didn't have the heart to do so.

It was only going to be for one night, after all.

Fun fact: Adjutant Vocino is named after the voice actress of the Adjutant from Starcraft 2, Anna Vocino.

Chapter Text

It was not for one night.

The second night she was with me, she lasted twenty minutes before ‘sneaking’ out of her temporary room. A whopping five minutes longer than the previous night.

We had spent that second day quietly settling in, and, simply in case of emergencies, introduced Cinder to my neighbours. Epsilon Heights was home to a variety of different households, from elderly couples to students to human-faunus couples and everything in between. 

In my case, my neighbour on one side was an elderly Faunus gentleman, Mr Winston. He had what looked like dog ears and greying hair, and was always impeccably dressed, even first thing in the morning or some unholy hour of the evening. From what little he had told me in our occasional meetings, he had once been part of Special Operations, but had retired when the previous General had done. He was a pleasant man, if a tad eccentric. But given most Greys ended up with some sort of eccentricity, that was to be expected. And let’s face it, doesn’t everyone wish for a badass retired spy for a neighbour to some degree?

On the other side, my neighbours are a group of University students. Whilst none of them were training to be Huntsmen or Huntresses, they were all smart and mature enough to understand the bare-bones version of the circumstances that brought Cinder under my care. And given how much they were cooing over Cinder, getting them to look after her should the need arise was almost certainly...well, certain.

Now, early on the third day, I found myself quietly removing boxes out of the ‘Room of Many Boxes’, in preparation for the delivery of furniture for Cinder’s room. Thanks to the miracle of flat pack furniture, it wouldn’t be too difficult to get her room ready for that night. The red paint that Cinder was so eager to select would only take about an hour or two to dry.

I had let Cinder continue sleeping. Firstly because in my eyes, she could do with more sleep. And secondly, because in all honesty, it would be a lot easier to move boxes without a small child following me around. Sweet though she is, Cinder is only five. I’ll get her to help with painting, but it was probably a good plan to let her watch whatever passed for children’s TV here as I put her furniture together. 

It was after I finished moving the last box out that I found Cinder, now awake, staring at my bookcase, full of the many random books and leaflets I had either collected or had coalesced on my desk. Most were informational, but the odd one or two were fiction. It was odd, seeing what passed as fiction in another world. But it was entertaining, nonetheless.

“Morning Cinder.” I greeted cheerfully, and crouched down next to her. “What are you looking at?”

“The books, Mister Casper.” Cinder replied. “What are they about?”

Knew that was coming. “Lots of things, Cinder.” I explained. “Some of it is for work, others are for pleasure reading. A smaller number of them are fiction..err...stories. Most of it is about history”

“Oh.” The small child had an odd look on her face for a moment. “What is it you do, Mister Casper? For work?”

I blinked, and took a few seconds to decide on my wording, to make it easier for her to actually understand. That was how my grandmother would answer my questions when I was a kid myself, and that was how I always made an effort to copy.

“...I am part of the Military Archive.” I eventually told her with a calm smile. “Or rather, I write about military operations and decisions.”

She looked at me with wide eyes but before she could reply, her stomach grumbled loudly. An embarrassed look swiftly appeared on her face.

“...Want breakfast?” I asked with a barely concealed grin.

“Mhm! Yes please, Mister Casper!”

Albus Hawthorn, Senior Captain of the Air Fleet eyed the Lieutenant that stood across his desk from him with a mildly irritated expression. He himself was stout, bald, and mustachioed, and wore the green highlighted uniform of the Air Fleet.

On his desk was the report that Ironwood and an Adjutant had written, and it was this report that was the source of his irritation.

“I am no fool, Lieutenant Ironwood.” Hawthorn sighed as he began speaking. “I am able understand what isn’t being said.”

“I...am certain that I do not know what you mean, Sir.”

“Cease being diplomatic for five minutes, James.” Hawthorn snapped. “I am referring to the fact that ‘Child Sacrifice’ is implied yet not overtly mentioned. I would know why. ”

“...Because I believed it to be.. indelicate. ” Ironwood said in a careful tone. “It is not something I would assume that the Board would want implied to be happening in Solitas, right under our noses, Sir.”

Hawthorn stared at James, before nodding in agreement once. “Acceptable.”

Silence fell upon the office for a full minute, as the two soldiers held each other’s gazes.

“This...Archivist Schwartz. The one that is caring for this ‘Cinder Fall’.” Hawthorn began. “...Trustworthy?”

“..From what I have seen, Archivist Schwartz is entirely trustworthy, sir.” Ironwood replied. “Nothing he has done, to my knowledge, indicates otherwise.”

“..Good. You never can tell with those Archivist types. Always ready to ‘edit’ history when it gets..inconvenient for the higher-ups.” Hawthorn grumbled before letting out a sigh. “Go on, you are dismissed, Lieutenant Ironwood. Atlas thanks you for your service in this matter.”

The younger man snapped off a salute, and turned to march off.

“Oh, James?”

“Sir?” Ironwood paused at the door frame.

“Fiona Moss has announced her intention to retire as Headmistress of Atlas Academy. I have put your name forward to replace her.” The Captain shrugged. “Although frankly, your election to that position is decidedly unlikely, I’m afraid.”

Ironwood stayed silent for a few moments, before inclining his head. “..I am grateful for the consideration regardless, Sir.”

“Hm..dismissed, Lieutenant.”

Hawthorn watched Ironwood close his office door and straightened out his uniform. He tapped a few buttons on his keyboard, and cleared his throat as a figure appeared on screen.

“..Albus?”

“...Ozpin.” The Captain greeted with a nod. “Something’s come up. We need to talk about the Fall Clan.”

Chapter Text

“The Fall Clan?” The image of Ozpin questioned with a raised eyebrow. “An odd topic of discussion, especially out of the blue. Might I inquire as to why ?”

Albus cleared his throat. Despite legally being older than the Headmaster, he was quite aware that the reality was quite different. Had it been anyone else speaking to him with the strange, authoritative curiosity with which Ozpin spoke, he probably would have called them out on it. 

“...Acting on the information you provided, Atlas ‘discovered’ a ruin beyond the White Sea that appeared to repel Grimm.” Hawthorn stated, and didn’t bother commenting on the thin smile that was now on Ozpin’s face. “..Although why you waited to reveal its location and properties is beyond me.”

“...The Fall Clan?” Ozpin repeated without comment on his colleague’s complaint.

“..It appears that Luna Fall has turned on the Witch.” Albus said simply. “And before you get any ideas about... recruitment.. she left something else with the letter. Her five year old daughter. As an apparent ‘offering’.”

 “...I see.” A momentary look of complete and utter disgust crossed Ozpin’s face. “I agree with your assessment, Albus. Luna Fall would make for an entirely unacceptable ally.”

That would hint you actually considered it for a moment. Albus sighed. He understood that sometimes, more distasteful methods to deal with the enemy were warranted. But that was only ever safe when the one committing those actions had the complete and total trust of most if not all those in the Inner Circle.

“What do you know of the Fall Clan already, Albus?” The Headmaster asked. “There is little point in my telling you things you are already aware of.”

“Very well...Do you want me to be delicate, or would you prefer me to be to the point?” Hawthorn asked quietly.

“To the point, if you’d be so kind.” Ozpin replied. “I was in meetings with the Council late into the evening last night, and I am certain you are aware how... bothersome they can get.”

“....Indeed. The Fall Clan are descended from Eliza Bathory, the Fall Maiden of approximately one hundred and thirty years ago.” Albus paused, but when Ozpin nodded, he continued, rattling off what he knew. “She was originally amongst your allies, trusted enough to even be counted amongst your Inner Circle. But she turned traitor, and slew both you and your then wife, along with a number of other members of the Inner Circle before fleeing to the Court of the Witch. It was then she took the name Eliza Fall. From that point on they have...or rather, they served in Salem’s ‘Court’. After the death of Nyx Fall at the hands of Team HMMR, the power of the Fall Maiden came under your authority once more.”

“That is a concise version of things, yes.” Ozpin sighed. “Sadly, it is not a...unique set of circumstances that I have encountered over the years, merely the most recent.”

“Such is the nature of this conflict, Oz.” Hawthorn told him. “Fighting in the shadows. Swapping sides. Keeping the conflict secret from the wider world. Frankly, it is unsurprising that this has happened before.”

“It is however unusual for an ally of mine or the Witch to turn traitor and pursue their own goals.” Ozpin said quietly. “More often than not, they simply swap sides.”

Hawthorn paused. That was unusual, indeed. From what little he had gleaned from the histories of the Inner Circle, less than half a dozen had done what Ozpin was now speaking of. It would take someone incredibly bold..or inconceivably foolish to do so. “..I take it that concerns you?”

“..’Concerns’ is likely too extreme.” Ozpin sighed. “..It merely...rouses my curiosity.”

“I see.”

“What actions do you intend to take now?” The Headmaster asked. “With regards to Luna Fall?”

“...Beyond putting her on various security lists?” Albus let out a sigh. “There is little I can do, Ozpin. Luna Fall doesn’t really ‘exist’ to the rest of the world, much like her daughter.” The Captain went silent for a moment, before he continued. “I would have a pair of Hunters track her down.” Hawthorn said. “Perhaps Rose and Branwen, I have always found them to be reliable.”

“..Summer and Qrow are tracking someone else at the present time.” Ozpin told him. “As such, they are unavailable.”

“Might I ask what it is they are doing?”

“..I am afraid that that is a decidedly… personal matter, Albus.” Came Ozpin’s reply, in a tone that brooked no argument.

“I see...it must be greatly important, do send them my best wishes then. In which case, I am deeply tempted to deploy Specialist Schokolade in their stead, if only to see if we cannot find and keep track of her. If anyone can find her from next to no evidence, it's Bianca….alas..” 

“..That would leave Fria undefended.” Ozpin nodded. “Granted, Ms Bernadotte is practically a force of nature in and of herself. But..”

“..It would not do for the last line of her defence to be elsewhere.” Hawthorn concluded. “Precisely.”

Not that the current Winter Maiden actually needed a bodyguard, Hawthorn thought. Of the twelve attempts on her life, all but one had resulted in the deaths of all those making the attempt. After that point, she had more or less been left alone. She and Schokolade were both still active members of the Military, although they had standing orders to prioritise the safety of the Maiden Powers ‘at any cost’. Thankfully, Fria hadn’t yet needed to utilise that.. yet.

“The daughter then.” Ozpin said after a few moments of silence. “What do we know of her?”

“Her name is Cinder Fall, and is assumed to be about five years old. Black hair, golden eyes.” The Captain replied easily. “That..really is about it, aside from the fact she appears to be scared of everything and its shadow.”

“I see. I take it she is being taken care of?” 

Hawthorn nodded firmly. “Of course. Who do you take us for? She is being looked after by the man that found her in the ruin.”

“And that would be?”

“Archivist Casper Schwartz.” Hawthorn answered. “...Now he is an odd one. He was found in a snowbank outside of Mantle. Amnesic, if the report’s are true.” 

“..I see. Do you believe it?”

Hawthorn shrugged. “I have not met the man. But Lieutenant Ironwood seems to believe that Archivist Schwartz is trustworthy. Given his upbringing, I am inclined to agree with him. FSB’s often have a sixth sense when it comes to who to trust or not.”

Ozpin chuckled. “A useful skill indeed. I can see why you are intent on having him as your successor. Do you intend to take her from this Archivist Schwartz?”

“If he is being genuine, I’d rather not ruin the man’s life more than it already has been. Nor am I in any rush to take a young girl from the side of the one person that doesn’t scare her.” Hawthorn explained. “If he isn’t genuine, if he is a danger...well, it is likely easier to observe them both if they are in the same place.”

“...A sound enough plan I suppose.” Ozpin agreed with a nod, and let out a yawn. Off screen, he apparently scrambled around for his mug, only to appear back on screen with a disappointed expression on his face.

Hawthorn fought back a laugh. “Go get some rest, Oz. You look tired. We can continue later, if needs be.” 

“...If you are certain, I will not argue against it.” The Headmaster smiled faintly. “Have a good day, Albus.”

“And you, my friend.”

Chapter Text

Cinder was still eating her cereal when there was a knock on the door, and someone rang the doorbell. The young girl, abandoning her breakfast, scrambled to my side and slipped her hand into mine. I smiled faintly and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"It's fine, Little Cinder." I told her. "It's just someone at the door."

She tilted her head, as if asking who it was that was there.

"If I've got my timings right, that should be the stuff for your bedroom." I continued with a smile. "You are sadly a bit small to help with putting the furniture together, but you can help paint, if you'd like? You did pick out that nice red, after all."

Her eyes lit up, and she nodded eagerly. She stayed at my side as I opened the door, and remained silent as I opened the door.

The man was quite obviously Faunus, thanks to the presence of his snake-like tail. He had a thin smile on his face, and wore plain green overalls with what Casper assumed to be a company logo and slogan printed on one side ('Any time, Any where, Any Thing!').

"Casper Schwartz?" He asked.

"That's me."

"Got a delivery for you." He explained, and held out a scroll. "Sign here please"

I smiled and did so, offering him a thankful smile. Not only due to the fact that he and his colleagues had carried the various boxes up nine floors so I didn't need to, but because with luck, it would mean I might well get my own bed back. The sofa is comfortable enough for a night or two, true. But nothing quite beats one's own bed.

Cinder must have continued to hide behind me, given the odd looks I was getting from the snake/lizard(?) Faunus. "Forgive her." I smiled. "She's uneasy around strangers in general."

The Faunus nodded in understanding, and thankfully didn't question further. He merely went back to helping lift the other flat-packed boxes into my apartment. The mattress came last, and soon, everything was in my apartment and the delivery men were gone. I privately hoped that they didn't need to drag anything else up nine flights of stairs. Cinder let go of my hand, and went to investigate the boxes.

"Alrighty!" I clapped my hands with a grin. "Finish your breakfast Cinder and we'll get started. I didn't manage to get a coat of white paint on, so we'll need to do that first."

As I went to look at the boxes myself, Cinder's small voice filled my ears.

"...M-Mister Casper?"

"Yes Cinder?" I knelt down to be face-to-face with her. "Is something wrong?"

"Why are we painting it white?" She asked, hesitant disappointment in her voice.

"Ah! A good question, Cinder." I exclaimed with a grin. "We're painting it white first so that the red actually comes out better afterwards."

"Oh." She was silent for a few moments, before she nodded once. "Alright."

I smiled. "Trust me, little Cinder. I know what I'm doing."

I hope.

Fiona Moss let out a sigh, and tried not to wish that the semester was over for the Nth time that morning. Whilst she had liked being Headmistress of Atlas Academy, her career had long since taken over her life, as had her other duties. Guarding the Staff of Creation...or rather, guarding the secret as to what was keeping the City of Atlas airborne was certainly the most vital thing she had ever done. Brothers only knew what certain people would do with that piece of information if it got out. Thankfully, her husband was understanding

But soon, it would not be her problem. Soon, the secret, the mountain of paperwork on her desk each morning, the irritating idiocy of some of her students, the mountain of paperwork on her desk each morning, the politicians wanting to force their ideals upon what she and her staff could teach and the mountain of paperwork on her desk each morning would all be someone else's issue.

And if Fria Bernadotte and her..quirky bodyguard would stop visiting Mantle without telling anyone, maybe her last few months as Ozpin's lead Atlesian contact might well be almost peaceful.

Forty-five years she had given to Ozpin and his war, full of glories and tragedies in equal measures. It had been her that had sent Team HMMR to their eventual doom in the Grimmlands, then there was that mess with the elder Branwen twin..and everything else she had done..it had been enough. It had all been more than enough.

It was the sight of Albus Hawthorn striding into her office that drew her out of her thoughts. Oftentimes they found themselves arguing with each other or Ozpin over how to proceed. But nonetheless, they had more than a healthy amount of respect for one another.

The fact that he promptly placed a coffee from a local cafe on her desk made her all the more pleased to see him.

"Good morning, Albus." She inclined her head.

"Fiona." Hawthorn inclined his head in greeting. "You wanted to meet with me."

"Mainly due to your tendency to bring me strong coffee." She joked. "But I do need to talk to you about my successor here."

"Ah." Albus sighed, and moved to sit down in one of the spare chairs in his colleague's office. "I see."

"Absinthe Campbell is the frontrunner, in all honesty, but I understand that you want an excuse to bring that Lieutenant Ironwood into our little circle.." Fiona explained. "I would prefer Professor Campbell to succeed me, as she has something resembling an educational background. I am however open to alternative ideas. We are all allies in this, after all."

Albus sighed. "I know, Fiona. You need not remind me. In all honesty, I only put James' name forward in order to give myself an excuse to bring him into our little cabal. Absinthe is a fine choice, and it is clear that her family name will soon be redeemed at long last."

"An upside I am certain she will be happy with. The Campbell's have been paying for the sins of their ancestors for far too long." Fiona agreed, and took a sip of coffee with a contented sigh. There had been many coups and attempted coups over the course of Mantellian and even Atlesian history, but none more infamous than the one that was now known simply as The Campbell Coup. The coup that resulted in the end of the Mantellian Monarchy and nearly ended Mantle itself. It had taken nearly a decade and a half to stabilize the nation in the aftermath, and the Campbell Family had been ostracised ever since. "Two hundred and fifty years is long enough."

"Two hundred and fifty-three years, I believe." Albus corrected with a good natured smile. "Abby does get picky when it comes to the number of years, if I recall correctly."

"Same difference." Fiona shrugged. "Now keep distracting me, I have a meeting with the Council in two hours and wish to be the least annoyed I can be. Tell me of this 'Lieutenant Ironwood', it is a rare soldier that impresses you of all people."

The Senior Captain of the Air Fleet took a sip of his coffee and began to talk to his long time friend and colleague. It would help kill time, and the Brothers only knew how many times he'd get to actually talk face-to-face like this with Moss before she left.

"Well…"

Chapter Text

It was already long passed noon before the painting was complete. Admittedly, needing four hours to actually do it all hadn't been helpful, but the quiet had been companionable, only broken by the odd few words of encouragement to Cinder on my part. The small girl, on her part, had done her best to help me. But there is only so much a five year old can do. But she had been nearly insistent, and distracted by the 'pretty red', as she had described it.

We stopped for a lunch consisting of sandwiches, cheese, salad and apple slices. Cinder hummed almost cheerfully as she ate. Whilst we ate, I put the TV on to watch the news. Whilst the news had moved on from the loss of the Nikos', the only concerning update on the matter was that there were no bodies to be recovered at the site. They had swiftly moved on to dust prices going up, or the upcoming protest by the pre-terrorist White Fang this weekend.

I left Cinder watching TV as I built her furniture. It was on some 'Children's Programming' channel or other. Whilst I wasn't entirely sure of what the name of the show she was watching was, it appeared to involve time-travel and focused on educating children on history, all promoting Atlesian and-or Mantellian glory, of course.

I will admit, I was never the best at actually building furniture. Sure, I could do it, but it took time. In this instance, it took most of the afternoon for me to get things done. The fact I had to wait for two hours before I could move the furniture into Cinder's room didn't help.

By the time I had finished, Cinder had fallen asleep on the couch, hugging her bear. Whilst the scene was undoubtedly cute (and I admit that I took a few pictures with my scroll), Cinder really couldn't spend most of the day asleep. If she did, she probably wouldn't sleep later that night.

"Cinder?" I called out.

The girl blearily blinked herself awake, and slid herself off of the couch and trotted up to my side. She looked up at me, and followed me to

"There we go, Cinder. Looks like we're all done." I smiled, and gestured inside."This is your room."

"..My room?" Cinder questioned in an almost bewildered tone as she stepped inside.

"You'll need to keep it clean, but I will be happy to help with that." I told her with a grin. "But yes, this is your room, Little Cinder."

The small girl turned around to look at me, and smiled.

Alabaster Sleet, General of the Atlesian Military strode into the Council Chambers of the Starlight Tower, the building that housed most, if not all of, the Council's own day-to-day operations. Or those that were not covered by the Military or Atlas Academy, at least. The chamber itself was windowless, with two doors at either side of the room. It was home to a circular table made entirely of expensive Vacuan Mahogany and there were five chairs set around it, one for each member of the council.

He let out a sigh as he looked around. He was the last one to arrive. Councillors Petrichor, Sikara and Haley were already deep into an argument with Headmistress Moss. Sleet knew that she was retiring, and if he was honest, he was privately happy about that. Fiona was often difficult and unwilling to compromise with requests from the other councillors, but rarely conceded when she had requests of her own.

And given the frustrated look on her face right now, Sleet had a feeling that this was going to be one of those moments.

"-sinthe Campbell is the one that I wish to replace me."

"..A Campbell?" Councillor Sikara snorted. The reedy, middle-aged man was a staunch traditionalist, and members of his family had served as both Lord Protectors of the Empty Throne during the Mantellian Era, and Generals during the Atlesian Era. "Are we truly so desperate that we must rely on a member of such a...treacherous family?"

"..It has been two hundred and fifty-three years." Moss fired back. "And in that time they have provided Mantle and Atlas with exemplary service and brave sacrifice, all in a bid to make up for their forebearer's great betrayal."

"No one is disputing that, Headmistress Moss." Petrichor, ever the peacekeeper, spoke up. She had been a career diplomat prior to going into politics, and was highly popular in Mantle. "And Absinthe is a dedicated and competent educator. But you must understand what the impact of giving such a distinguished role to her would be. As a Headmistress of Atlas Academy, not only would she sit on the Council, she cannot be removed unless she either retires, dies in office, or is arrested. Given her...unfortunate, family name, there is every chance that someone might attempt to...expedite the second option."

Fiona snorted. "Do you honestly think that that would be a simple matter? Absinthe is a Huntress. It would be either a very bold or very foolish individual to risk a charge of treason merely to try to kill someone given their name. And that's if Absinthe leaves them in a suitable condition to even stand trial."

"Who is the alternative option?" Sleet cut in. "Forgive me, but I have not been following this matter as closely as I likely should have."

Sikara rolled his eyes. "Lieutenant James Ironwood. An FSB. Truly, we are in dire straits. I would prefer to fold the Headmaster position into that of the General. It would allow us not to lose those that do not wish to serve Atlas properly. Force them from Academy to Military as we should have been doing."

"Absolutely not!" Fiona protested, turning to glare at both Sikara and Sleet. "There is a reason we-"

"Fiona." Sleet cut her off. "I am in agreement with you. The roles of General and Headmaster should remain separated."

"I have a solution." Councilor Haley finally spoke up now. He had been reelected to the council for the last fifteen years, and had long since earned the trust of his constituents. "Given that Miss Campbell is indeed a fine educator, perhaps it would be prudent for her to...use a different name? Her maiden name, perhaps? I am aware that the students would likely question the change, but it would be more...palatable, for the citizenry."

"And really, Sikara." Haley continued with a drawl. "If you had an issue with her simply for her family name, you could easily have had her removed from her teaching post already. But you haven't. If you had an issue with her teaching, might I ask why you kept quiet?"

Sikara grumbled under his breath.

Petrichor cleared her throat. "Shall we put it to a vote then?"

Barely a minute later, Absinthe Arnold was confirmed as Fiona Moss' successor as Headmistress of Atlas Academy, and a member of the Atlesian Council.

Chapter Text

My week off came and went far too quickly, as they often did.

Myself and Cinder had settled into a daily routine for the remaining days. We'd eat breakfast and watch the morning news, before going for a walk up to the local park and have a wander around the shopping district. We'd usually stop off into a cafe for a drink and pick something up for lunch, before heading home. I had started to teach her how to read along with her numbers in the afternoons, and in the evenings I had let her help with preparing dinner when that was viable. And of course, I told her Remnantified bedtime stories each night.

Speaking of my small houseguest, I was in the unfortunate position of needing to bring Cinder with me to work. This was due to the 'minor' issue that a week isn't long enough to sort out school places, and I have no idea about the education system at her age. I think it is mostly tutor based until a child is seven years old, as with most important things child related, but still need to check. For now though, Cinder's coming with me to the Archive.

She was wearing the clothes that Doc had provided her, a white shirt and trousers, along with a grey sweater vest. Her shoes were plain black, the smartest pair I could get her. Overall, it was clean, comfortable and smart. Precisely what would be needed when she would be sitting around for an extended period of time.

I was wearing my uniform. It was in effect, the same as the one Caroline Cordovin wore in Volume Six, albeit with a brown highlight (and properly sized) rather than a grey one, if I remembered correctly.

I slipped on my coat, and helped Cinder into her own one, unsurprisingly bright red. Ensuring that I had my keys and scroll, I crouched down to address the young girl.

"Alright Cinder." I began. "Do you understand what we're doing today?"

"Uhm!" She blinked, and shook her head. "..I forgot. 'M sorry, Mister Casper."

I smiled, and gently tousled her hair. "That's alright, Little Cinder. We're going to the Archive. I've got to go back to work, and I am afraid it'll probably be a bit boring for you. But you'll need to stay close, alright? The Archives are technically part of a military base, so you can't wander off."

Not that she would. I noted, but it had to be stated. I was almost certainly breaking more than a few rules (if not laws) by bringing her along with me, but I frankly was not going to send her to daycare. Calling her 'fragile' would probably be a monumental understatement, and making her interact with strangers, loud strangers (even if they were other children), was almost certainly a poor idea, at least at this juncture. Especially if I wasn't nearby, given I was pretty much a living security blanket for her. Not the most spectacular of coping mechanisms, it had to be said.

"..Alright, Mister Casper."

"Alright then." I smiled, and offered her my hand. "Time to get going."

Cinder nodded, taking my hand. And together, we departed our small home.

The Military Archives were located in a building all of their own within the site of Military Headquarters, and whilst Atlas Academy was also located within the same site, there were of course areas students could not go. I would assume that Ironwood made-slash-will make reforms if and-or when he becomes General, to make it all a heck of a lot less confusing. Frankly, it boggled the mind that the Military actually functioned properly half the time.

Ignoring the odd looks that some of the students were shooting us, I led Cinder into the building. It took barely a minute before I was greeted by someone that was, for me at least, a familiar face.

Royce Glover was an elderly man, stick thin, balding and bearded. His uniform was pristine, and a pair of oversized glasses rested on his beak-like nose. Glover was the Senior Captain of the Atlesian Military Archive, and the one that was around more often than not. If I was being honest, I don't recall ever meeting the Junior Captain.

"...Archivist Schwartz." He greeted with a nod. "It is good to have you back after your...sudden departure."

"It could not be helped, Sir." I replied, gesturing towards Cinder. "I am..certain you understand."

He glanced down at the small girl at my side, and was silent for a few moments. Then he began to chuckle softly. "Aye, I understand. Don't fret. You made the right choice. But in all seriousness, it is good to have you back with us, Casper."

"Thank you sir."

Glover nodded, and clapped his hands. "Right then! I am certain you want to know what it is you'll be doing?"

"Mhm. What is it I am needed for today, Sir?" I ask, a mask of professionalism slipping carefully into place upon my face.

"A nice and easy day to get you back into things." He smiled. "Going over sources for exams at the Academy, filing away patrol reports. A bunch of small things that we have been putting off. Nothing too taxing, I assure you."

"That's good." Was my reply. "...Thank you sir."

"You are welcome, Archivist."

I turned to head to my office, ushering Cinder along with me. But Glover cleared his throat, bringing me to a stop.

"But before all of that, you'll need to get the young lady a clearance pass." He reminded me with a good natured smile, and nodded towards Cinder, who was desperately trying to hide behind me without letting go of my hand. "It is protocol, after all."

"Ah. Understood sir." I snapped off a hasty salute, before actually picking Cinder up. The Admin Block was in the main Academy Tower, and thus a considerate distance away. It would be easier to carry her.

As I stepped outside again, I let out a contented sigh.

I was back at work. I was back into my routine.

Blessed Normality.

Chapter Text

Cinder stared at the small card at the end of the lanyard currently around her neck. It was probably the first time she actually had a picture of herself, and she hadn't taken her eyes off of it ever since she had been handed it.

The man that ran what amounted to the Records Office was surprised to see a child needing an I.D, but as there was a pre-existing form for this particular scenario, it likely happens often enough, as there is an actual pre-existing form for this scenario. It was amusing to see his face when Cinder had asked how a camera worked, but he had taken it in stride, and within an hour, Cinder had her I.D card. It had no 'Access Capability', but it would allow her to actually be on site.

The man had even gotten a quiet "Thank you" from Cinder as he had handed the card.

Things were quiet as we headed back to the Archive. There were a few people walking about, true. But most appeared to be students enjoying their midmorning break. A few of them were staring at the pair of us, but thankfully none of them came up to greet us. Some had, in the past, come up to ask me about history, likely to help with their homework.

Honestly, it was one of the many confusing things I'd gotten used to when it came to having Academy and Military Headquarters in the same facility, I could be taking a break from writing highly sensitive documentation, and end up helping a gaggle of students remember which Experiment Era commander was which.

Although in fairness, remembering the difference between Markus and Marcus Pollock no doubt gets confusing in the mire of revision cramming.

"An Archivist." A semi-familiar voice behind us drawled, drawing me out of my thoughts. "And here I thought you Brownies never left that musty old library you call an Archive."

I turned to face the person addressing me, and fought back the urge to gasp. His uniform had teal highlights, indicating his being part of the Science Bureau, and a Lieutenant's insignia on one. He was stick thin, his mustache wasn't as impressive as it would one day be, and his hair wasn't as greyed, but his face was the same. His smug smile and air of superiority..

Arthur Watts.

Frankly, since my arrival to Remnant, my opinion of him has turned decidedly...mixed. He was a genuinely brilliant scientist and engineer at this point, quite possibly the brightest mind Atlas had seen in decades. The environmental controls in Atlas and Mantle were his design, as were the safety networks in Mantle, the near indestructible glass used in the airfleet, along with a whole slew of other groundbreaking technologies. He even gave lectures at the Academy, and whilst they were often boast filled, according to Captain Glover they were incredibly popular and informative.

Unfortunately, he was known within the military for being a complete and utter bastard. Brilliantly intelligent and creative, but arrogant to the point of frustration..and a desire to punch him in the face. Judging by his slightly crooked nose, someone had actually done that in the past.

"We do on occasion, Lieutenant." I replied with a thin smile. "And I believe we have you to thank for our 'library' not being so musty anymore, Sir."

"Doctor." He corrected me, almost sternly. "I am a Lieutenant because they need me to be one in order to have high enough clearance to do what they need me to do, Archivist. I prefer 'Doctor' because I earned it."

"Ah..my apologies then, Doctor Watts." I replied, raising my free hand in a peaceful gesture. I glanced at Cinder, who was trying to hide me. Time to go. "I ought to be getting back, Sir."

"Yes yes." Watts waved dismissively. "Go back to your Archive, Brownie. Some of us have work of actual import to do."

Giving him a salute, I all but dragged Cinder away from the not-so-good Doctor. The less we interacted with him, the better.

What a smug cun-

"...Mister Casper?"

I let out a calming sigh before replying. "Yes, Little Cinder?"

"Who was that?"

How the hell do I explain that one?! "He's..part of the Science Bureau, Cinder. He's very clever but..a bit.."

"..Creepy?"

I raised an eyebrow at her response. That wasn't something I had expected from her. "Just so, Cinder. Just so."

The pleased smile she now had on her face was so very adorable.

We finally made it back to the Archive, later than intended. Senior Captain Glover was waiting for us when we arrived, a look of faux-disappointment on his face.

"You took your time, Archivist Schwartz." Glover commented. "I presume that there is a reasonable explanation?"

"We ran into Lieutenant Watts, Captain." I smiled. "Apologies."

"Say no more!" Glover replied with a grin, before lowering his voice. "...You didn't punch him, did you?"

"No sir." But it was tempting.

Glover clearly had similar thoughts to my own, judging by the conspiratorial edge his smile had taken on. "Get your ass to work already, Schwartz."

"Yes sir." I saluted with a smile, and made my way to my office. Some of the other Archivists called out greetings to me as we did so. A couple of them, the ones that had been on the mission to the Ruined Temple, even called out 'hellos' to Cinder. She predictably didn't reply.

My office was small, but a comfortable one. Admittedly, most of the others were bigger, but I didn't care. It suited my needs and was easy to clear up at the end of the day, the chair was comfortable and close to the coffee machine. I had a window that overlooked the city rather than the Academy, and that provided me with a frankly magnificent view during winter nights.

I sat down in my chair and began turning everything on. Cinder soon clambered up onto my lap. She smiled shyly up at me, and offered me her I.D card. I took it with a smile, and looked it over. The picture was a good one, and reminded me that I really ought to get myself a picture of my little houseguest.

For some reason though, the card said 'Cinder Schwartz'.

Cinder Schwartz...I think I like the sound of that.

Chapter Text

September 68AW:

FIONA MOSS RETIRES! REPLACED BY ABSINTHE ARNOLD.

October 68AW:

ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT ON ABSINTHE ARNOLD!

November 68AW:

COUNCILLOR SIKARRA ARRESTED ON CORRUPTION CHARGES!

December 68AW:

Hello Neighbour!

As usual, Epsilon Heights will be hosting a little get together to celebrate Year's End, and to watch the various firework displays. Food and hot drinks will be provided.

Also as usual, there is to be no alcohol.

This means you, 9E.  You might be students, but you can get drunk in your own apartment.

- Winston

January 69AW:

HEADMISTRESS ARNOLD OUT OF HOSPITAL!

April 69AW:

Employees.

We now have a partnership with the SDC, with a primary interest in the mines once owned by the Zhang Dust Company in Mistral. This partnership should make us a great deal of money and expand our influence.

Unfortunately, this chance was provided to us by the tragic disappearance of the last of the Zhang family, Midori. We will, of course, be providing monetary aid to the Mistralli Police Forces in order to find the girl if possible.

Ivory  Hansa

Managing Director, Hansea Banking Group

June 6th 69AW:

Cinder

Wishing you a Happy Sixth Birthday

-Casper.

December 69AW:

Hello Neighbour!

As usual, Epsilon Heights will be hosting a little get together to celebrate Year's End, and to watch the various firework displays. Food and hot drinks will be provided.

Also as usual, there is to be no alcohol.

This STILL means you, 9E.  After you managed to break your television, window AND MY CAR WINDOW last year with that blasted tennis ball of yours, my tolerance for your inebriated antics is less than minimal.

- Winston

February  70AW:

INTERNAL ARCHIVE MEMO:

JAMES IRONWOOD IS NOW JR. CAPTAIN OF THE AIRFLEET.

FORMER JR CAPTAIN HULL IS TO FACE TRIAL FOR CORRUPTION AND DISCRIMINATION CHARGES

MPO. HEATH CLIFFE

May 70AW

Mr Casper Schwartz,

I am delighted to inform you that your ward,  Cinder Fall , has a confirmed placement at our proud and historic institution. The school year begins on the third of September. Appropriate uniforms can be ordered from 'Stevensons Tailoring'.

Yours,

Cloud Nine

Headteacher of Oakwood Elementary School

June 6th 70AW:

Cinder

Wishing you a Happy Seventh Birthday

-Casper.

June 70AW

Archivist C. Schwartz.

You are hereby to report to the Archive Headquarters at 6AM on the first of July in dress uniform. You are to be part of the Military Archives group that is to see the first demonstration of the latest project developed by the Science Bureau.

The codename for this new project is: PALADIN.

Senior Cpt. Glover

…..

Casper,

Thought this might be something the Little Lady might want to see. It is Dr Watts being Dr Watts, but you can't deny he always puts on a show. Might be a good send off before she goes to school. I managed to get her permission to tag along, so don't worry.

Also, congrats on the other thing.

-Royce

June 70AW

Mr C. Schwartz.

Your meeting with a representative is set for the fifth of July at 10:30 AM. You are expected to arrive early, and with all required documentation. For obvious reasons,  Cinder Fall  is also to attend.

-Flynn Clement

Atlesian Familial Registry.

Chapter Text

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.

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.

Chapter Text

Unsurprisingly, the streets of Atlas had been devoid of anyone as I had driven from our home to work, and were it up to me, I would still be in bed like everyone else. But alas, I have been 'invited' to the maiden demonstration Lieutenant Watts' latest project.

Now, in fairness, early mornings are nothing new to me. College and University and work all had me commuting at unreasonable hours of the morning. True, I'll be having words with Royce for thinking that a half five wake up call for a seven year old is even close to acceptable, but I can at least understand that he had very little input as to when I was needed at work.

The main point of irritation right now is the fact I need to be in dress uniform. Thankfully, given my rather unimportant rank, 'Dress Uniform' is just wearing a pristine uniform with rank insignia, shined boots, brown beret and, somewhat worryingly, a standard issue sidearm.

Now, had I been of higher rank, things would be more elaborate, with aiguillettes and epaulettes and medals. Royce would have to wear all of that, and I fully intended to get pictures if I could. I knew I'd be taking pictures of Cinder today, so I could probably sneak one or two of the Captain in.

Speaking of said seven year old, Cinder had grown in the last couple of years. She was still shy, but two years of 'normality' had let her to being a happy and healthy seven year old. She would even walk around the Archive Offices to say hello to my colleagues on occasion (Only into the places she was actually allowed, of course. The Archive's 'Little Lady' was always well behaved in that regard). She had most of them wrapped around her little finger, even if she didn't realise it. Hell, she had most of the Academy student's (that came to ask me about history homework on my breaks) wrapped around her little finger.

She had taken to education like a duck to water, thankfully. Whilst full time education began at seven, it was expected that children would at least know the basics. How to read and how to write. Basic mathematics and how to tell the time.

Cinder, after she had learned how, loved to read. More than once, I had found her reading at some entirely ungodly hour of the morning. But it had led to her being less shy around my colleagues, as they were all too happy to chat to her about whatever it was the little girl had been reading that morning, which had led to her growing in confidence, which had led to her seeking them out again and so on and so forth.

Currently, she was cheerily humming a tune to herself as we made our way out of the parking lot of the Atlesian Military Headquarters on our way to the Archives. Her hair was in bunches now, instead of simply hanging down her back. She was wearing a version of the 'smart' clothes she had been given the day she had come into my life, albeit a few sizes bigger. On the whole, she tended to prefer more smart clothing, at least when she went out of the apartment with me. In the apartment, she often wore her fluffy red dressing gown over whatever it was she was wearing.

All in all, I think I've done at least a decent job of taking care of her so far. Brothers know she's had a better life than she would have done under Salem's care. Not that that is a difficult thing to do. And by this coming weekend, she'll be my daughter and not my ward. A year or so ago, the prospect of fatherhood gave me some hesitation. Now? Now, I am looking forward to it.

It's been nearly half a decade since I actually had a family, I'm happy beyond words to be changing that.

There were already people milling about as we reached the Archives. Representatives of all of the various branches of the Military were there, all chatting to one another (Although it is noticeable that no one was hanging around the faunus in the black highlighted uniforms.). There were even a few students there, a few of which I even recognised.

As we approached, Captain Glover spotted us and began to make his way over to us. I fought back a smirk at how uncomfortable the old man looks in his uniform, and waited for him to reach me.

"Captain." I greeted Royce with a salute. "Good morning."

"Morning Casper." Royce greeted me with a smile, before turning his gaze to Cinder. "And good morning to you, Little Lady."

"G'Morning Mister Glover!" Cinder beamed, offering a wave. "I like your ropes!"

"Aiguillettes, Cinder." I told her kindly. "They're called aiguillettes."

She blinked up at me, her golden eyes filled with curiosity. "Oh. Okay then, Mister Casper!"

I won't be hearing that for much longer. That was an almost saddening thought, come to think of it. That was how she had addressed me pretty much from day one.

"Schwartz." Royce's voice brought me out of my thoughts. "Go and mingle. Brother's know when you'll get a better chance than this."

"Are you sure, Sir?"

"Aye." He sighed. "I need to speak with a few people before all of this kicks off. You might as well make the most of it while you can."

Saluting him once more, I led Cinder into the crowd. I spotted one of my colleagues in the throng, and started to make my way over.

"..Archivist Schwartz?"

A voice behind me stopped me in my tracks. I turned around, only to be greeted with a familiar face.

"Oh, Captain Ironwood." At his approach, I snapped off a salute. "It is good to see you again."

"Indeed, I am glad to see that you are still well." James inclined his head, and flicked his gaze to Cinder. "I see that Miss Fall is still in your care. I take it she is your ward then?"

"Only for four more days." I replied with a smile. "Then she'll be somewhat more than that."

"Say no more." He nodded. "Congratulations are in order then."

"Thank you Sir." I replied with a smile. "I trust all is well with you?"

"For now." He let out a sigh. "Truth be told, I do not wish to be here, Archivist. I am currently assisting with the capture of a criminal of some considerable skill, and this...distraction is..most irritating."

"...Dare I ask how considerable, Sir?"

"Considerable enough to involve the airfleet in his capture, Archivist Schwartz."

"I see."I paused for a few moments. "Will the Airfleet be requiring any files that the archive might have on this individual?"

Ironwood raised an eyebrow. "Do you actually have the authority to make that offer, Archivist?"

"...Do I need authority to offer aid to another branch of the military with regards to the protection of Atlas and Its citizens, sir?" I asked with a grin.

A small, amused smile crossed the man's face. "A fair point. Clear it with Captain Glover first, but the Airfleet would be most appreciative if the Archives could share any information they might have on the assassin known as Marcus Black."

Well fuck me, that's unexpected.

Chapter Text

Blaine Norris let out a yawn, and slumped against the wall outside the loading bay of the hospital at which he worked. He was a porter, spending his days getting vital supplies to wherever they were needed in the building. The hours were long and monotonous, but he could at least go home each day knowing that he had actually done something worth doing.

He stamped out his cigarette, and was about to head back inside, when a truck pulled up into one of the delivery bays. He would have just ignored it, were it not for the fact that he knew there were no scheduled deliveries until much later that morning.

So he stayed. True, it wasn't unusual enough for him to be overly suspicious, but it couldn't hurt to be sure.

He watched as the driver got out, and looked around. He watched as the man spotted him and began to walk over to him. And he watched as the man took out a scroll, and tapped a few times on the screen.

The driver looked..ordinary, entirely nondescript. If Blaine was honest, it would be hard to describe him to anyone else. The man could have been anyone.

"I have a delivery." The man said as he finished his approach, holding out the scroll expectantly for Blaine to inspect. "Are you able to sign for it?"

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "I probably shouldn't, to be honest. Any ideas as to what it is you are delivering today?"

"I don't get paid to know what I'm delivering, sir. Only where I'm delivering it." The man explained with a small smile on his face. "And to whom. Can you sign? Or at least point me in the direction of someone that can?"

Letting out a sigh, Blaine strode forward to the back of the vehicle to look inside. "How big is it, the delivery?"

"Just a single large crate, Sir." The man replied. "...As you can tell, I have a schedule to keep to sir. It'd help me out a lot."

"Alright, alright." Blaine held his hands up. "But I ain't taking the heat for it. If anyone gets pissed, I'm sending them your way."

"I don't think that will be an issue, sir." The man smiled again. "Don't worry."

Snorting, Blaine strode into the loading bay to collect a pallet trolley to move the crate with. The delivery man assisted him with carefully moving it onto the pallet, before once again extending the scroll out to him. One final check over the document later, and Blaine signed at the bottom.

"Most appreciated, sir." The man nodded, and began to stroll away with an almost cheerful smile on his face. "I best be off. Goodbye."

He offered a cheerful wave, and clambered back into his truck. Blaine let out a sigh as the man drove away, and made to take the crate into the hospital's storage area. He passed a few of his colleagues on his way, but paid them little mind.

The storage area was more like a warehouse, although nothing here required refrigeration. Those things were, unsurprisingly, kept in the fridges. Blaine found a clear area, and went to find a crowbar. There were a number of them around, so it didn't take long for the man to find one. He privately admitted a faint twinge of curiosity as to the crate's contents. He doubted it was anything interesting, or even unusual.

He was wrong.

The sight of a strange mix of metal tubes and cables surrounding a metal drum was what greeted him in the crate. It beeped once, and Blaine blinked, and frowned.

"What the hell is th-"

Blaine Norris didn't even register the device as a bomb before it took his life. Nor could he have known that almost every hospital in the Kingdom had received similar devices..

..and had suffered similar fates.

A few minutes prior….

I spoke with Ironwood for a few minutes more, catching up and discussing work related matters. He bemoaned the internal politics of the Board of Captains, and I in turn commiserated with him on the fact that both of us would be drowning in paperwork thanks to both the Paladin and Marcus Black.

(Whilst in hindsight, we were right about the amount of paperwork, I doubt either of us quite realised what that paperwork would entail..)

"I had best take my place." Ironwood said eventually, as those around us began to form up. "It has been good to talk with you again, Archivist." He turned his gaze to Cinder, and offered a small, kind smile. "And you too, Miss Fall."

Cinder merely waved shyly at the Captain. I, on the other hand, saluted. As was proper. Ironwood returned said salute, and marched off to join the Airfleet contingent. We, in turn, took up our place with the rest of the Archival contingent. We had left the Archives, and moved to what appeared to be parade grounds.

"What did I tell you, Schwartz?" Glover's smug voice and smile greeted us. "Making connections. That's about all this nonsense will be good for in the short term."

"It was only Captain Ironwood, Sir." I fought back a smile, trying my best to keep a neutral expression. "We have worked together in the past."

"Did Jim want anything important?" Glover asked.

You can get away with calling him that? "Nothing that can't wait, Sir." I replied. "Information about an assassin he's tracking. We might not even have anything useful for Captain Ironwood's needs."

"I see." Glover shrugged. "Alright then, tell me about it later."

"..Who's Jim?" Both myself and Glover turned to face Cinder, who was looking up at us with wide, curious eyes. "We only saw Mister Ironwood."

"Jim is the shortened version of the name James, Cinder." Glover explained. "As that is Captain Ironwood's name...and I have his permission, I can call him such."

"Oh." Cinder tilted her head, and nodded. "Okay!"

"..How exactly did you get his permission to call him that?" I asked aloud.

"Poker." Glover replied in a completely serious tone. "I won it playing poker."

Before I could reply, a voice boomed across the grounds.

"Good morning to you all!"

Doctor Arthur Watts, Lieutenant of the Science Bureau, wore his signature smug smile on his face as he gained the attention of the crowd. He wore his military dress uniform, which included a Teal Beret. He was standing in front of something, presumably the Paladin, covered by a large canvas. A set of stairs had been set up beside it so the pilot could get in.

"The Paladin..." Watts began his declaration with a broad grin on his face. "..is the future of Atlesian military might. Why waste hundreds of thousands of lien outfitting dozens upon dozens soldiers and building Knights when a single Paladin Pilot can do the job in their places?"

The man gave a gesture, and the canvas was pulled away, revealing the mountain of metal beneath. Whilst most around me gasped and offered polite applause, I found myself a little...underwhelmed. It seemed practically identical to the Paladin of canon, save for one crucial difference. It had a visible cockpit. One of glass, likely the hardened glass that Watts himself created.

"Today, I shall be demonstrating this..miracle of metal and technology. And today, the rest of Remnant shall be reminded that it is we of Atlas that stand as the primary bulwark against the Grimm!"

With a bow, Watts made his way to the stairs and towards the Paladin Prototype. But unbeknownst and unseen by everyone, as he strode up to get into the machine, the Doctor took out his scroll from his pocket, and smiled to himself.

The demonstration began smoothly. It left the hangar without issue. It's armaments destroyed targets, and it strode across the grounds at surprising speed. It lifted up trucks, and dragged a Manta (a sort of Military transport) behind it without strain...

….And then the goliath of metal turned to face the crowd for the first time, and everything promptly went to shit. The light from the cockpit turned bright red, and a robotic voice boomed across the base:

"ERROR! ERROR! EXTERNAL OVERRIDE DETECTED!...ERR...ORIFLAMME PROTOCOLS ENGAGED: RECALIBRATING TARGETING ARRAYS: NEW TARGETS ACQUIRED: EXECUTING."

Chapter Text

Oriflamme Protocols.

I, in the three second span of warning that I had, recalled what that meant. The Oriflamme Protocols were implemented when no mercy was to be given to an enemy, nor any surrender accepted. A holdover from the Great War that was never taken off of the books, but never actually used since said Great War. An ‘absolute last resort’ option that no one, not even the most brutal and bloodthirsty of commanders wanted to order.

All of which is frankly useless information in the here and now, because that behemoth is firing at us!!

I scooped up Cinder into my arms and ran, just as the various soldiers around us began to take out their sidearms and desperately attack the metal goliath. The fruitless plink plink plink of the bullets against the monster filled the air, joining the cacophony of screaming and claxons the boom-boom-boom of the Paladin’s own weaponry and the thud-thud-thud as it walked forward.

Don’t think about the squelching sound. Don’t think about the squelching sound. For the love of the Brothers, Don’t think about the squelching sound.

We passed the lines of soldiers, and reached the largest group beyond them. The students, oh Brothers, there were students here, were desperately dragging the wounded to safety, along with bringing ammunition to those soldiers that were firing at the Paladin.

“Get them inside, now !” I all but roared at them. “And for fuck sake, get some reinforcements already!”

I loathed raising my voice, but I think I can get a pass on this one occasion. It gets them to safety, and lets the outside world actually have a clue as to what is happening right now. Because as it stands? We don’t stand a damn chance against the Paladin..

“Schwartz!” I heard Glover shout. “Get your ass moving and fire at that thing!”

I fought back a sigh. What fucking good is one more handgun gonna do?!!

“Nonette!” One of the students, thankfully looking unharmed, turned to look at me. Nonette was one of the students that now regularly ‘checked in’ with them during their breaks. Admittedly, this was due to her being pretty poor at history, but she was decent company nonetheless. “Take Cinder.”

“..Da-...C-Casper?” Cinder whimpered as she left my arms. Nonette let out a soft wince as she took all of Cinder’s weight, and began to step away.

Crap crap crap! Have I ever raised my voice like that around her? “I-It’s okay, Cinder. Just...trust me. You’ll always be safe with me.” Forgive me for lying, Little Cinder. “Everything will be fine. Just, go with Nonette. Can you do that for me?”

I turned away before she could answer, not wanting to see the heartbroken look in her eyes. I unholstered my sidearm, and stode forth to try to fight the metal monster. Aside from training, I had never needed to fire my gun. I was a little proud of that, truth be told. True, as an Archivist I rarely needed to be in a situation that called for offensive measures, but I’ve been in Remnant for four years now. Not needing to shoot anything, even Grimm, for four years isn’t a bad run, all things considered.

Oh well. Needs must.

With Cinder and the students behind me, I brought my handgun up, aiming at the cockpit of the Paladin, and opened fire. Two soldiers, Blues judging by their uniform, stepped in at either side of me and joined the dozens of soldiers firing fruitlessly at Watts’ creation.

The hard light shields came online at last, acting as a containment field around the parade ground, and to provide at least some measure of protection for what remained of the crowd, the ones yet to evacuate. But just as soon as they were activated, they sputtered out, letting the Paladin continue in its ceaseless carnage.

It fired again, and the soldier on my right took a direct hit. He was sent careening backwards with a sickeningly damp splatter.

I didn’t even know his name.

I didn’t pause to mourn him. I couldn’t. I couldn’t afford to right now. I couldn’t even glance back to see if those behind me were alright. I just kept firing at the cockpit. It was, logically at least, the weak point. True, it was probably made of the glass that Watts himself had had a hand in creating, and thus stupidly difficult to even crack, but right now, it's the best shot we have.

Then my gun stopped with a click-click-click….just as the Paladin turned its attention to me.

No more ammo. No reload. No chance of escape. I thrust my hands forward, in what was sure to be a futile attempt at defense. The Paladin fired again, and I closed my eyes in preparation for my second death...

And then….

...I opened my eyes, and blinked in bewilderment at the scene before my eyes. A wall of shimmering gray light, no more than two metres wide by two metres wide, had appeared in front of me. 

More precisely, it had appeared in front of my outstretched hands.

Don't tell me....now of all times..?

The Paladin fired again, and I grit my teeth as my new shield began to crack under the bombardment. But just as I felt the shield begin to break, the cockpit suddenly tore itself away from the Paladin, rocketing swiftly into the skies and away from sight and sensors and on and on and on..until it exploded into a burst of fire and smoke.

Deep down, I knew that Watts was still alive. Deep down, I knew that he was likely on his way to Salem or would soon be on his way to her. Deep down, I knew that all this was a trick. But at that moment, I flinched. A death like that would not have been pleasant. The Paladin, now without its controls, stumbled to a halt and was at last silent. Leaving nothing but screams and moans and cries of the injured and dying, and the silence of the dead.

In all, the Paladin Incident had lasted barely five minutes.

Chapter Text

Cinder slammed into me the moment she saw me coming to retrieve her, her golden eyes shining with tears. I knelt down to embrace her properly, uncaring that I was probably doing so in front of a great many students and military officials. Cinder was my daughter and fuck anyone that thought that anything other than her was my priority right now.

Glover thankfully understood, and left me and Cinder with the students. A room full of nervous, scared and concerned Huntsmen and Huntresses in training (otherwise known as Specialists), and me and my daughter. So I did what I could to calm them down. I chatted with them, distracting them with anything I could think of. Some of them volunteered to go and help out, but had been faced by a polite refusal. It seemed that even in Atlas, there were things that the military didn’t want young people, Specialists-in-training or not, to see.

It was draining, but I think I did a decent job of it. Personally, I think that Cinder’s presence helped. I recognised many of the students, and they clearly recognised Cinder. There was a chance that they were trying to remain calm for her sake. Once more I found myself both grateful and disturbed by the emotional suppression that most in Atlas were capable of to some degree. It couldn’t be healthy, but right now? I doubt Cinder would be able to cope in a room of students that were freaking out.

Eventually, Glover came to retrieve us an hour or so later. After ensuring that the students were good to be left alone, I headed after him, Cinder’s hand tightly holding my own.

..and then I learned about the hospitals.

Bloody hell, Watts went all out...

“...How many?” I asked Glover the inevitable question as we made our way through the entrance to the Archive building. How many did we lose?

“Seven of ours.” Royce answered in as calm a voice as he could likely muster. “..Archivist’s Fell, Salt, Gunner, Edwards, Becker and Yaxley….along with Junior Captain Germain.”

“I see.” I sighed. Whilst I know... knew all of the names, I had been good friends with both Becker and Yaxley. Hell, I’d met Yaxley’s husband when he’d come to our office paintballing sessions. And Becker had actually helped me find my apartment when I had earned enough to move out of Mantellian motels, and had even helped me move in. “..Dare I ask the total?”

“...Seventy-Three if we include the incidents at the hospitals.” He told me. “And that might well become Seventy-Four. They aren’t sure that Captain Ironwood will make it. He lost an arm, a leg and a heck of a lot of blood.”

He will make it. I thought. Of course he will. Nothing short of Atlas falling from the sky could stop him. “..How many students?”

“...Four, Brothers bless them..” Glover gave a sigh. “...Put the coffee on Schwartz, I have a feeling none of us will be going home ‘till late.”

I fought back a sigh. Sending us home wasn’t an option and I knew it. Atlas had been attacked and seventy-three people were dead. The military would be out for blood soon enough, as would the citizenry when the details were made public. Brothers only knew what the other Kingdoms would do when they found out. So we had to get to work as soon as we could.

But that didn’t mean I had to like it.

Unfortunately, Glover was right.

 It wasn’t until some completely unreasonable and ungodly hour of the following morning that I carried Cinder out of the Archive office and headed towards my car. She had barely spoken a word the entire day, and hadn’t left my side at all since I’d collected here after the incident.

But now at least, she was peacefully snoozing in my arms, and hopefully would remain so.

Personnel files had needed updating, entries about the incident needed writing up and filing, names needed to be added to the Rolls of Remembrance. Then we turned our attention to whomever could have orchestrated the events of the day. Some names I recognised, if barely: Dr. Merlot, the Asturias Clan, the Malachite Cartel. Other names I hadn’t even heard of: The Restorationists, the Anti-Vytal Front, Former Captain Ney and his right hand man Slate Blanc. Someone threw the White Fang in as a candidate, but was thankfully ignored. After all, at this point, they’re still just a protest movement. Truth be told, I learned more about the officially recognised ‘Enemies of Atlas’ in the last twelve hours than I had done in the last four years.

I floated the idea that Lieutenant Watts might be behind it all, in an over the top faking of his own death. But whilst most in the office agreed that Watts could do something like that, they eventually dismissed the idea. On the (slim) upside, my suggestion was actually recorded. It might not be much, but the thought of Watts faking his death will at least be out there.

Glover walked with us as we left, headed to his own vehicle. The thin man appeared more exhausted than I could ever recall seeing him. He was still in his dress uniform, having remained in it all day.

“The Blues want you amongst their ranks, by the way.” Glover said with a slight smile as I placed the still snoozing Cinder into her seat. “So did the Yellows. Hell, even the Grays were making inquiries. That semblance of yours is in high demand.”

“...Great.” I sighed. Seventy-Three people dead, and the thing people are most interested in is my fucking semblance. “ Just what I needed..”

“I told them to go screw’emselves, by the way.” He continued. “Not only do we have bigger things to be worried about right now, you’re one of mine, Casper. For as long as you want. I refuse to be bullied by that idiot Stirling just because he waves a gun in my face.”

And thank the Brothers for that. Draco Stirling, aside from having an obviously evil sounding name, was the Senior Captain of Civilian Security (the Yellows) and known to be racist even by Atlesian standards. But as he was popular with a number of the other members of the Captaincy, he was a leading candidate to succeed General Sleet when he retired.

“Appreciated, Sir.”

“Take tomorrow off, Casper.” Glover said, in an uncommon instance of using my first name. “The Little Lady will need calming and reassuring...and you’ll need to register that nifty new semblance of yours with the Registry before they get picky and arrest you.”

…...Great, I’d almost forgot about that.

“...Thanks Royce.”

Chapter Text

Cinder spent most of the next few days as close to my side as she could. To my total lack of surprise, the day of the ‘incident’, we ended up sleeping on the couch, huddled under layers of blankets. As if waiting out a storm..

(Which, in fairness, we sorta were. A shit storm.)

It took thirty-six hours for the Atlesian Government to reveal ‘The Paladin Incident’ to the world. Admittedly it was the absolute barebones version of things, but this sort of thing couldn’t be kept secret. Not on the international level. As it turned out, there had been foreign observers at the demonstration, three of whom were amongst the dead. 

There was a lot that Atlas could and did hide from the other Kingdoms, but deaths of foreigners wasn’t one of them.

Glover, wonderful man that he was, outright ordered me to work from home. Apparently things were a complete and total mess and no place for a child. In his own words, I was not to come back to the office ‘Until Cinder was good and adopted’ and ‘things have calmed down’. Granted I was still to actually do my work, but from my home computer. Unfortunately, whilst the work was relatively easy, it was mind numbingly mundane. But nonetheless, I owe Glover a lot for this. He’s fond of a particular brand of Vacuan tequila, maybe I’ll buy him a bottle (or ten) as thanks. Brother’s know it’s the least I can do.

All in all, whilst things are busy, they are also quiet. Put simply: No one had a bloody clue what had happened, and no one had any clue who was responsible. 

The ‘good news’ was that the Anti-Vytal Front and the Restorationists had both publicly denied involvement. Now, knowing Watts was actually behind this, this didn’t really come as much surprise to me. But the relief (and trepidation) felt by my colleagues was great.  Regardless, I had taken the opportunity to learn about the two groups whilst their names crossed my desk.

The Anti-Vytal Front spoke for itself. They were people that sought the repeal of the Vytal Treaty in its entirety, seeing it as restrictive. Unfortunately, that also included all of the anti-Slavery parts of the Treaty and they had actually launched terrorist attacks on Menagerie and pro-Faunus protests. Horrifyingly, it was only after they targeted a school that even Atlas recognised them as out-and-out Terrorists.

Their targets that day might have been Faunus, but they had been Atlesian Faunus. It had been that fact that had been the final straw for the Atlesian Ruling Council. The vote on classifying them as official ‘enemies of Atlas’ had been unanimous, and those that had committed the atrocity had actually been executed. The death penalty was still on the books in Atlas, although was extraordinarily rare, reserved only for the worst, most unforgivable of crimes.

The Restorationists were...strange, to say the least. They sought to ‘reset’ the map to a pre-Treaty state, Monarchies and all. They at least were somewhat more principled, refraining from (deliberately) attacking civilians. However, as Menagerie wasn’t one of the nations of the world before the war, the Restorationists sought to completely dismantle the island Chiefdom as a national entity...along with any attempt to introduce equality laws.

As one of their goals was to bring the City of Atlas out of the sky and add it onto the City of Mantle (which they hoped to reinstate as the Capital), the Atlesian Ruling Council had named them a ‘banned political group’ (amongst other things, I’m sure), and after a trio of Restorationists had been found guilty of assassinating a Councillor, they too joined the list of official ‘Enemies of Atlas’.

With both of those groups denying their involvement, the military turned its eyes elsewhere. Things were quiet now. It was an oppressive, suffocating quiet, but quiet nonetheless.

In fact, the only thing of note to happen since the Incident was when I had to go to the Aura And Semblance Registry to add my semblance to the records. The meeting was long, longer than it probably ought to have taken. The Adjutants there had tried to not so subtly convince me to leave the Military Archives and transfer to some other branch of the Military, with the Yellow’s being their preference.

An hour and a half later, and it was a pair of clearly irritated Adjutants that had dismissed me from their office. Thankfully, despite their failure to convince me to transfer, they had actually registered my semblance without much issue. I was a little worried that they’d only do so if I’d agreed to transfer, and honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if they had tried that. But thankfully, aside from some somewhat snide remarks about not thinking about my long term career, they gave me no trouble.

I could have called it something boring, like Bulwark or Shieldwall. But that was deeply imaginative. So I named it Pridwen , after the shield of King Arthur (or his ship, one of the two). It might not have made much sense to the Adjutants, but some vague connection to my now distant home country is..more pleasant than I can put into words.

It had led Cinder to ask about its name on our way back home, and thus I found myself once again butchering and Remnantifying stories from my original world. Arthurian Myth thankfully lends itself reasonably well to Remnant, so it is easier than some fairy tales. It also gives me a bunch more bedtime stories to tell, even if they aren’t exactly accurate.

(And brought up fond memories of a young version of myself, asking my Grandmother if King Arthur’s shield had a name. Like Father, like daughter I suppose.)

It also lit up an idea in my head to ‘borrow’ Arthurian Myth and actually write some of them down in book form. It might end up just being more generic fantasy in Remnant, but it’d be good to earn a little bit more lien on top of my military salary.

But all of that paled to utter insignificance in light of what it is I’m about to go and do. It had taken me two years to get to this point. Two years of waiting patiently, without complaint. Two years getting used to the idea and coming to like and to love it. 

It would hurt, not hearing ‘Mister Casper’ anymore. But its replacement.

Dad.

Smiling, I picked up a file of documents from my ‘office table’, and after double checking that everything I needed was in there, I headed to Cinder’s room.

The seven year old’s golden eyes fell on me as soon as I entered her room, and a small smile broke out on her face. She was in her ‘work uniform’, albeit with her beloved red scarf around her neck. 

“Alright then.” I took a deep breath, and offered her my hand. “It’s time to go and get adopted, Cinder.”

Her smile brightened, and she hurried to my side.

“Okay Mister Casper!”

Chapter Text

Absinthe Campbell glared at the figure currently on the screen of her computer. The last few days had been nothing short of hell for her, and she didn’t appreciate having to talk to the rest of the Inner Circle before she’d even managed to go home since the Incident.

She had sustained burns up the left side of her body, but in all honesty they were little more than an inconvenience. They didn’t prevent her from doing her job, and her itching had all but subsided. Captain Hawthorn was there in the room with her, and he wore an expressionless look upon his face. He had been quietly supportive of her,

“Ozpin, I lost four of my students.” She all but snarled. “Four promising young people who were likely destined for great things. Do not tell me what my priorities should be. They are extraordinarily plain to me.”

“...I understand your frustration and share your grief, Absinthe. But we cannot lose sight of the bigger picture.” Ozpin replied in what was likely intended to be a placating tone. “Right now, your priority should be discovering whether or not there is a link between this Incident and Salem. If there is, we need to find out how she found out about the Paladin, and why she was so insistent on snuffing it out this early. I am certainly hopeful that this has no connection to her, but we cannot afford to take chances.”

“Ozpin, I have barely avoided an investigation into whether or not I had a connection to this tragedy given the family I married into. I am not in a position to deviate from the official investigations.” Absinthe sighed. “I will do what I can, but I can only do so much right now.”

“And the Airfleet is dealing with...the other thing.” Hawthorn cut in. “This Incident does nothing to our timetable on the Marcus Black matter, and since Captain Ironwood is still in hospital, I’m having to cover everything . Someone that can steal Semblances cannot be allowed to join Salem, and if you are right in that he is considering it..”

“Coupled with my son’s Semblance to forcibly trigger other people’s Semblances, that is a recipe for disaster,” Ozpin confirmed with a grim smile. Ambrose’s betrayal had cut deep, so much so that it had taken literal months for Absinthe to see Ozpin with his signature mug of coco. “...Do what you can, both of you. Whatever help I can provide, I shall.”

Without a word of goodbye, Ozpin’s image vanished from the screen. Barely a moment later, Absinthe stood up from her chair, and made for the door to her office. 

“Abby.” Hawthorn called after her. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going home.” She replied. “I haven’t seen or spoken to my husband or children in days, barring a single Scroll-call to inform them I was more or less uninjured. I will be back tomorrow morning Albus, but right now I need to go and be with my family and calm myself down. I suggest you do the same.” 

And without another word, the Headmistress of Atlas Academy strode out of her office without looking back. Albus Hawthorn let out a sigh, and tidying up his colleagues office a little, made his own departure.

Absinthe was right, now was the time for family.

The Atlesian Familial Registry Building, whilst within the Starlight Tower complex, wasn’t nearly as ostentatious as the others around it. Just a plain building, several stories tall. White walls with obscuring windows.

It was, however, one of the most important buildings I had ever been in.

Before Cinder came into my life, I’d honestly not put much thought into being a father. Admittedly, this is probably because I was all of twenty-three and still intent on keeping my head down to avoid the anomalous force known as ‘Canon’, along with the fact that I hadn’t actually dated anyone since coming to Remnant. 

But now here I was, twenty-five years old and sat in an elegantly decorated waiting room. Atlesian Landscape paintings hung on the wall, and comfortable seating was arranged in rows that filled up most of the rest of the room, save the front desk of course. We’d already sent up the file of paperwork required when we’d arrived, now we were stuck waiting. It had been almost half an hour now, and nervousness was starting to settle in..

“Casper Schwartz and Cinder Fall?” A voice called out from the front desk. I glanced at its owner, the elderly woman sat behind it. “You’re up! Office Thirty-One, it’s on the first floor. It’ll be with Flynn Clement.”

Nodding, I took Cinder’s hand, and headed for the stairs. It wasn’t a long walk, even if it felt like it. Cinder squeezed my hand as we knocked on the door to Office Thirty-One, and kept close to my side as we entered.

Flynn Clement had been the one that had sent me the letter about this appointment, but I hadn’t expected it to be him that I’d be meeting. He was clearly older than me, but not by much. Likely in his early thirties (and wasn’t that a scary thought? I’m nearly thirty myself now.), his red hair was streaked with gray, as was his frankly impressive beard.

“Please, take a seat.” He said. “I am just finishing up filling out our side of the paperwork. Then it’s just a matter of answering a few questions and you’ll be done.”

“Seems...awfully easy.” I commented. “To adopt someone, I mean.”

Clement gave a shrug. “You’ve done most of the hard stuff. The paperwork, the references, the background check. In all honesty, Archivist, this meeting is little more than the rubber stamp. But it needs to be done.”

“Fair enough.” I replied as I settled myself into a seat, and watched as Cinder did the same. We waited in silence as Clement finished up, and turned his gaze to Cinder.

“You are Cinder Fall, correct?”

Cinder nodded once.

“Good to meet you Cinder, you can call me Flynn.” The man smiled. “Now, you have been Mister Schwartz’s ward for...two years now, correct?”

Cinder glanced at me, and at my smile, nodded an affirmative. “Mhm!”

“And Cinder, do you understand what adoption is?”

Cinder actually glared at Clement at that one. “Of course I do! I’m seven, not stupid.”

Before I could gently chide her for that unusual outburst, Clement let out a chuckle. “I know that young lady, but I am still required to ask that question.”

The meeting carried on for about another ten minutes. Clement asked both Cinder and I questions, and generally got to know us (at least, as well as one can over the course of a single conversation). Until..

“Indulge my curiosity.” I began. “How often do you have to do a meeting like this?”

“Truth be told? Not a lot. Most of the people I deal with are wealthy individuals seeking to adopt ‘children of unusual competence’ to take over their family businesses when their own children prove to be fat and useless. It is almost pleasant to actually do a proper adoption for people that are already obviously Father and Daughter.”

“Speaking of which, I see no reason to drag this out any further.” Clement’s smile widened, and extended a hand to Cinder. “..Congratulations are in order, Miss Schwartz. You are officially recognised as the daughter of Casper Schwartz.”

The girl blinked, and tentatively shook the other man’s hand. Before Clement could offer me a handshake, Cinder had flung herself at me, throwing her arms around me.

“...Thanks, Flynn.”

“You are very welcome, Mister Schwartz.”

“So!” I asked after we exited Flynn’s office about five minutes later. “Where to now, Cinder?”

“...Can we go home Mist-...” She paused, before her eyes widened and a bright smile crossed her face. “..Can we go home, Dad?”

Alright, there goes any composure I had.

Chapter Text

Cinder hummed happily to herself as she rode the elevator up to floor nine of Epsilon Heights. Two years ago, this metal box that moved would have terrified her. But now…now she was brave enough to take it all by herself!

And soon, she’d be off to school. Dad had taken her to go and get her uniform earlier that day, and they would go and get her school supplies tomorrow. School, or rather the idea of School, excited her. True, the thought of not seeing everyone at the archives everyday Dad was at work was sad, but soon she’d be making them all proud, just like she promised them.

She’d be going to Oakwood Elementary School, a nice school according to Dad. One that she could fulfill her potential at. She had seen the smile on Dad ’s face when he had called the school up to have her name changed on the school’s files.

Cinder Schwartz.

That was her name now. Not Cinder Fall. Mama hadn’t wanted her, and she didn’t even remember Papa...but Dad wanted her. He had made her family, chosen to make her family. That was an important thing here in Atlas! And she was Atlesian now! That had been a nice surprise when both she and Dad had realised. 

Her name was Cinder Schwartz and she was Atlesian.

A family. A home. A nationality. All things that Dad had given her.  A future. Something he had ensured she’d actually have..

She sniffled a little. There was no way to pay all of that back, was there?

She was brought out of her thoughts by the elevator announcing its arrival at the ninth floor with a ding! The doors slid open, and Dad was standing there, smiling. And that smile banished away all of her sad thoughts. He offered her a hand, and she all but skipped over to take hold of it. And together, they made their way home.

She knew of a word that summed up everything she was feeling. But it seemed too simple to describe something so big. So important. Maybe it was one of those words that had different meanings when someone was big.

Belonging.

Atlesian Fleet Vessels, as a rule, used a single word as their name. AFV Justice, AFV Duty, AFV Dauntless, that sort of thing. The sole exception to this was of course the Flagship of the Airfleet, AFV Pride of Solitas. 

The AFV Sentinel was the personal and, if he was being honest, the preferred Airship of Captain Abus Hawthorn. Whilst, as the Senior of the two Airfleet Captain, it was his right (and some might say, duty) to command from the Flagship, the Sentinel had been his for as long as he had had a command role, before he had even met Ozpin and joined the Inner Circle. He knew the crew and they knew him. He trusted them and was trusted in return. It was on the Sentinel that he first met a tough-as-nails Private, sixteen years old, fresh out of the foster system and living in the backseat of a car that was older than he was. The day that he had met James Ironwood, Albus knew that he would be his successor. He had sponsored Ironwood’s rise through the military, and his entry onto the Board of Captains. In all honesty, prior to the Paladin Incident, Albus was going to introduce James to Ozpin after this current mission.

Now that same formerly young man was in hospital, down an arm and a leg, with Brother’s only knew what sort of internal damage. And somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, Albus was trying to decide who he’d replace James with, if it came to it. He hoped and prayed for his recovery, of course, but the years he’d worked for Ozpin had made him more pessimistic than he’d like.

He schooled his expression into one of cool, commanding certainty as he strode into the main briefing room. There was a large screen at the far end, and a long table with chairs in its centre. Twenty sets of eyes fell on him as he strode to the front of the room. He gave a nod, and the soldiers took their seats.

“...Thank you all for coming so promptly.” He said quietly. “My apologies for my lateness.”

There was a murmuring of acknowledgement that went around the room. Albus picked up a remote from the central table, and began to press buttons. The man that appeared on screen had dark hair flecked with grey, dressed in desert-going gear. The picture was quite obviously several years old, and taken either in haste, or from a distance.

“Marcus Black is presently eighth on the International Anti-crime Initiative’s most wanted criminals. In fact, the only people above him are known to be guilty of violating the Vytal Peace Accords, that means the heads of the big criminal organisations and terrorist and insurrectionist groups for those unaware. He is a mercenary, wanted for at least three dozen assassinations and terrorist attacks in all four Kingdoms and Menagerie. The total body count for those attacks is just shy of five hundred.”

He let the number hang in the air for a few moments, letting it stick in the soldiers minds. Shock and disgust formed on their faces, soon giving way to fury. “His semblance is that he can steal the semblances of others. So those of you that have your semblances discovered and active, you are not to use them unless absolutely necessary . His semblance can only steal yours if you are actually using it, and we’d prefer to avoid anyone having their soul ripped apart today.”

“By order of General Sleet, lethal force is authorised.” He continued. “We are not expecting to be able to take him alive, but we would prefer to take his son alive. Mercury Black is, according to our records, seven years old at the most. It is the opinion of the Greys, as well as myself and Captain Ironwood, that he can be salvaged….and I doubt anyone here wants the death of a child on their conscience.”

There was a round of muttered agreement, and Albus let out a sigh. It would be so much simpler if they could just carpet bomb the area Black was in to naught but ash upon the wind. But the presence of Mercury Black changed things. It required a ground presence, and required him to put soldiers in danger.

Such was life, he supposed. It was necessary. Marcus Black couldn’t be allowed to join up with Salem, and even if Ozpin was wrong about that, he wouldn’t be sorry a man like him was dead.

“Alright then,” He said at last. “Let’s get this done.”

Operation Gallows was a go.

Chapter Text

In a squalid building, little more than a hovel, in the middle of the Mantellian Wastes, a grey haired boy stared out of a window. It was not a particularly comfortable safehouse. No heating, lighting, or power. But it was out of the way, and that made it safe. If it was safe, Dad would leave him to his tasks without threats. His room was tiny, little more than a walk-in wardrobe, but it was his. It was safe.

Mercury Black was the only son, and only remaining family member, of Marcus Black. Once, he had a mother. But a year or so ago, she had tried to leave with him. And for a few peaceful months, they had been free from the monster, hidden away in a quiet corner of Argus. He'd even made friends! But all that had changed one stormy night, when his father had arrived to ‘retrieve’ him. He couldn’t remember much from that night, only that there had been blood. A lot of blood. His mother ended up dead, and his father had dragged him out into the street and into a waiting car. 

Ever since, the monster dragged him around, contract to contract. He was to keep whichever safehouse they were in clean whilst his Father went about his messy business with Tyburn , his axe. And when Father returned, it was his job to clean Tyburn up, more often than not so that his Father could go and drink. And He drank a lot. Close to a third of the lien he earned went to his alcoholism. Mercury knew this because Father had him ‘deal with’ his finances. It was boring and confusing, but at least he was good with numbers now.

But recently, his Father hadn't been drinking . And Mercury suspected that it had something to do with the offer of work that had arrived in a strange black envelope. To say his father had been unhappy to find a letter waiting for him in one of his more secret hideaways would have been the most colossal of understatements. But on the upside, the bruises Father had left had only lasted for a few days.

They had come to this safehouse some days before, but father had yet to tell him why. Father was even seeing to his own equipment for the first time that he could remember. Whatever the offer was, it had Father on edge. And that either meant that the offer was especially difficult, or worse, it was utterly heinous. Mercury hoped it was the former, Father enjoyed the latter contracts a little too much. This was especially the case when he got to use his semblance of Violation on them, ripping out other people’s semblance in a perverse ‘violation’ of their souls.

“Boy!” Father’s voice shattered the peaceful quiet. “Get away from the window!”

Mercury flinched at his Father’s tone, and swiftly did as he was commanded. It never ended well to disobey. Father strode to the side of the window, and glanced outside.

“Idiot!” He snapped, before wheeling around and stalking out of Mercury’s tiny room. “Now they’ve seen us!”

"They?" Mercury got to his feet, and hurried after him. “Father? Who’s they?”

But he received no answer. Instead he saw his father advancing on him with Tyburn in hand. He scrambled backwards, pressing himself against a wall and making himself as small as possible.... 

“Let’s see if you’re at least of use to me as a distraction , Boy . ”

But like most attempts to hide from his Father’s wrath, it failed. Marcus Black swung his axe down, and Mercury began to scream.

The AFV Sentinel had touched down in a clearing, surrounded by dense forest. 

They would be attacking momentarily, at sunset. Four teams of four, with one person working support from the Sentinel per team. Two of the teams would be dealing with any Grimm that might seek to ambush them or the other two teams. Said other two teams were the ones that would be dealing with Black.

In the aftermath, one team would collect Marcus’ body whilst the other collected his son. If the Brother’s were with them, the operation would take less than five minutes.

In a darker corner of his mind, Albus wondered if it wouldn’t have been considerably easier to have initially ignored the fact that they’d learned about Mercury Black and gone ahead as soon as they could without General Sleet’s approval. If they weren’t ‘aware’ of his presence, they could have gone ahead and carpet bombed the area and sent in a sweeper team to mop things up. It would have been a tragedy, and likely required his resignation and possible court martial, but his people would be safe and a dangerous enemy dealt with.

But they were aware, and more importantly, both the Archives and the General were aware that they were aware. There were laws. And knowingly killing a child, even for the sake of putting down a piece of scum like Marcus Black, would break a number of them. And no amount of reasoning that it would put the lives of his own soldiers first would dissuade his superior from setting the Blacks on him. 

The last thing he wanted was a ‘visit’ from the Senior Captain of the Military Police, Zinnia Hague. Then again, most sane people would wish to avoid the wrath of The Lady with the Iron Spine.  

If it wasn’t for her utter inflexibility, he’d consider recruiting her for the Inner Circle. She was, after all, an intelligent, competent woman. One that was as good at dealing with Grimm as she was People. But Ozpin needed people willing to bend the rules a little, to do what must be done, not just what the law allowed to be done. A distinction precious few were able to make. Absinthe could, James could, but Zinnia could not.

He let out a sigh, and taking his seat, put his headset on. He mumbled through a prayer, before issuing his command.

“This is Hawthorn. You are clear to proceed with the operation. Gallows is go. I repeat, Gallows is go.”

The next update will be a 'Festivals' entry in the 'supplemental information', this time Reaping Day from Salem's perspective. Now, given she has a great big wall of names, I will be accepting your suggestions for people on that wall. The CNR is not required if they lived before the Great War.
Just post a name and a couple of sentences about them, and I will endeavour to mention as many as I can.

For example:
Ilyanna Volga: Recruited the Fall Maiden Eliza Bathory in -150AW. Died in battle against the Silver-Eyed Warrior Caleb Tombs.

This is only open until next Friday (29th of October 2021). I look forward to seeing what you come up with. The limits pretty much boil down to ‘be reasonable’. Maiden’s will be accepted, as will straight up ‘staff’ at her palace. But try to keep to about two or three sentences long.

Oh! And they don’t have to have been on Salem’s side, she memorialises worthy enemies too. Silver-Eyed Warriors are an option. However, short of one putting out their own eyes, there is probably no way for one to serve Salem.

Chapter Text

Fennel Greaves prided herself on her professionalism and dedication to her duty, along with her Loyalty to her Kingdom and Home. 

She might have been born and raised in Mantle, but she’d damn well earned her place in Atlas Academy. The highlight of her school career had been six years previously, when she and her team had fought in the final of the 32nd Vytal Festival, forcing the tournament’s final fight to a draw for only the third time in its history. A few months later, and after graduation, she’d joined the Specialist Program, where she had served ever since. She’d even earned a few commendations in her time there.

In other words, she had reason to be and was damn proud of her skills and her position of Specialist. The Specialists themselves were technically part of the Greys, although unlike the actual covert agents of the Greys, Specialists could be placed under the command of any of the twenty Captains of the Board.  

(Which was actually a point of contention between the Specialist Corps and the General. As they were under the General’s direct command, their representation on the Board was frankly minimal. For all they did for Atlas and Remnant as a whole, the lack of a voice (and the lack of a voice for so long) was often a key factor in Specialists leaving the Corp and joining another Branch of the Military.)

For the purposes of the mission, she was designated as ‘V1’. Vanguard 1. In missions like this, Vanguards were the ones to bring down the main target. Conversely, Rearguards prevented any potential Grimm from interfering with the mission. In an ordinary Military operation, she’d be addressed as Specialist Greaves, her rank followed by her surname. But on missions like this, ‘covert elimination’ missions like this, the Corps tended to use a more detached method of addressing its operatives. Fennel didn’t even know who it was beneath the other featureless helmets, aside from their designations. She supposed that when acting as part of what was effectively a ‘kill team’, it was nicer not to know who it was that was killing people with you.

“This is Hawthorn.” The Captain’s voice filled her ears, and Fennel smiled beneath her own helmet. Go time. “You are clear to proceed with the operation. Gallows is go. I repeat, Gallows is go.”

Without any further prompting, V4 kicked down the front door of the hovel, and the eight operatives flooded into the building. What little furniture there was was all torn up, as though the occupants had little to no expectation of returning.

Fennel had thought that the hovel was devoid of anyone save her team. She thought that right until the moment she heard V6 call out for help. She rushed into the smaller room, assault rifle already raised to take down whatever had caused her squadmate to yell so urgently.

The sight that greeted her was not an enemy. It was not Marcus Black, Violator of Souls. It was his son. The grey haired boy was shaking, and tears of pain were silently falling down his cheeks. V6 had knelt at his side and even removed her helmet, and it was only after approaching the pair on them that Fennel saw why her teammate had had them rush to her side.

“By the Brothers..”

..Because the boy’s legs had been severed just below the knee.

She had read the reports. Black’s weapon, Tyburn, could superheat itself, practically ensuring the cauterization of any wound it dealt out. It was another cruelty Black was known for. Not content to steal away part of people’s souls with his semblance, Black could steal limbs with his weapon, almost to the point beyond what current technology could ‘fix’. But it also meant he could intentionally leave people alive. Or not.

That meant that he had deliberately dealt his son a wound he could bleed to death from. Likely just to distract them.

It made her sick.

“...Captain.” Fennel spoke, stepping out of the room. “Can I assume you saw what-”

“I did.” And Hawthorn’s response made Fennel grateful for the cameras in their helmets. “I’ve already had the medbay begin prepping for surgery.”

Fennel nodded. “Shall I have two of the squad return so the rest of us can hunt that bastard down?"

“Negative V1.” Hawthorn’s voice came over their headsets. “All units, fall back to the Sentinel. ”

“Sir?” Fennel questioned.

“I am going to employ the Grigori Doctrine.” Came the simple reply. And Fennel allowed herself a razor thin smile as she put all the pieces together. The reason they’d not just employed Grigori to start with was the certainty of killing the boy now in their care. With that risk gone, why on Remnant would they not just use the weapons aboard the Sentinel, and remove the danger to the operatives on the ground entirely? 

True, it meant that most of the effort they’d put in to not risk the life of Mercury Black would be for naught, but she’d much rather the effort not be needed than put the effort in and fail.

And anyway, the Grigori Doctrine could be fun to watch.

If in doubt, bomb the ever-loving fuck out of the surrounding area. And if that doesn’t work? You didn’t use enough bombs.

Because as everyone knows, there’s no kill like overkill.

“Understood sir.”

Marcus Black kept his focus on the ground ahead of him. The Mantellian Wastes were unremarkable in appearance, but far safer than the White Sea. That made it the ideal place for one of his savehouses. And the fear his son would be giving off would serve as an adequate lure to keep the Grimm away from him.

The ‘loss’ of his son was unfortunate. But children were replaceable. The Iron Circle often had them for sale in their auctions. He’d sold children to them in the past, like the Zhang brat after being hired to kill, and then actually killing her parents.

(In front of her, of course.)

Soon, he’d be in Mantle and smuggling himself to Mistral. He needed another contract and needed one soon. He’d been restless for months. He could have stayed to fight the Atlesians, and it would have been a fine fight thanks to their no nonsense approach. But it would have drawn too much attention.

The drone of the airship filled the air as it departed, and he smirked. Atlas was abandoning the hunt, just like Mistral. They talked tough, but only gave chase when they had certainty. They wouldn’t bother combing the Wastes, not to kill a single man.

He was about to turn away and continue on his way, but then the airship dropped something. Several somethings.

Marcus Black frowned in genuine confusion as he realised what they were.

It wasn’t as though his son mattered.

Chapter Text

A FEW WEEKS LATER…

The man had been lurking in the cemetery for far longer than any sane person would dare at night. But the invitation, left in his hotel room and written in an elegant hand, had piqued his curiosity. 

He had been a named ‘Enemy of Atlas’ since the age of seventeen. Roland Ney had ‘found him’ ( purchased him) in Mistral when he was barely fourteen. The Iron Circle had made a small fortune with him thanks to his semblance, and he had killed a number of his Commander’s ( Owner’s) rivals for Captaincy. And when Ney’s coup attempt failed, he’d fled with the man into the darker parts of the world. A quarter of a century later, a quarter of century filled with blood and murder and blackmail, and he was one of the most infamous assassins in the world. A far cry from the slave he once was.

After the contract he’d accepted to bomb the hospitals, he’d assumed he’d need to go to ground before Atlas caught you with him again. But nothing in his wildest dreams could have compared to what his current offer was:

Serve the God-Queen and never fear the Grimm again.

Serve the God-Queen and you’ll never be bored again.

Serve the God-Queen and you’ll never need another contract again.

He had, at first, dismissed it as fake. Monarchy was a concept that had been dead for the better part of a century, and there was no one on Remnant that could make offers like those he now had. But in the end, he had gone to the stated meeting point. He could easily slay whoever was there when it inevitably turned out that it was a trap or the contractee was a charlatan.

They had asked for Ney to come along with him, but there was a rather large… issue with that request..

It was the slight prickling under his skin that heralded the fact he had company. It both relieved and alarmed him. Relieved that the company was either human or Faunus, but alarmed because he hadn’t intentionally activated Mindblind ..

..but his semblance had activated.

“Slate Blanc.”

The voice was polite, and almost cheerful. Slate turned to view the owner of the voice. The man was wearing Mistralli-issue combat gear and a warm looking brown cloak. His dark brown hair was short and wild, and his green eyes were alight with gleeful malice. “It is good to meet you.”

“I like to think myself open-minded, ” The assassin paused with no small amount of hesitation. “But you..do not look like the Immortal God-Queen of the Grimm.”

“She isn’t here.” The man said, stating the obvious.  “I am Ambrose, her…Voice, I suppose you could say. Ooh! I like the sound of that. Ambrose Ozpin, the Voice of the Queen. ”

“As in-”

Ambrose’s gaze narrowed, although his smile never faded. “To my eternal annoyance, yes. I am related to that Ozpin.”

Not willing to question that last statement further, and potentially irritating the man, Slate chose to ask a question. “...Out of professional curiosity, how did you know it was me?”

“Your semblance of course!”

That wasn’t worrying at all.

“You appear to be alone.” Ambrose commented, tilting his head in mocking curiosity. “I do not see Captain Ney.”

“Unfortunately, He is not here.” Slate explained. “He had an… accident ten years ago. It involved a run-in with a chainsaw, very tragic.”

“How disappointing.” Ambrose sighed. “But in all honesty, it is no real setback. Information and advice was all he was going to be good for. I assume that his death will not be tracked back to you?”

A brief look of faux-offense crossed Blanc’s face. “Please, my friend. I am a professional. I’d never be as sloppy as to leave a trace.”

A pleased smile appeared on the man’s face. “Wonderful. The Queen will be glad to hear it. A shame we’ve lost a former Captain in the Atlesian Military. He had knowledge that would have been useful, along with codes we could have had fun with.”

“I know of a few people that might interest you in that regard.” Slate replied. “They aren’t weapons, but..”

“Go on.” Ambrose urged eagerly. “Tell me!”

“One is likely a long shot, but given the right motivation, he is undoubtedly a worthy recruit. Another is a crazy, murderous psychopath. But if one were to break him in a certain way, I am certain he would make at least an adequate enforcer of your Queen’s will. The last is…well, I’d prefer to discuss her with your Queen, and not her ‘Voice’. No offense meant, of course.” 

“That’s pretty cryptic! But fair enough.” Ambrose grinned, and looped an arm around Slate’s shoulders as they proceeded to depart the cemetery. “You should be aware however, that any Left Hand of the Goddess must be a Faunus.”

“That’s fine.”

The other man raised an eyebrow. “Does the mystery man have a name then?”

“Tyrian Callows.” Slate smiled. “His name is Tyrian Callows.”

Cinder cheerfully hummed to herself as we walked to her first day of school, a few steps ahead of me. It’s early Fall (and by the Brothers it is hard not to call it Autumn. Twenty odd years of calling it that is a habit that’s hard to break.), so the mornings are still warm enough to walk around in. Although I fully intended to drive her there and back come winter. Even up in Atlas, with all its technologies, winters are cold , and as warm and cosy as it is, Cinder’s treasured red scarf can only warm her up so much.

Everyone (plus a few of the students we saw regularly) had given Cinder cards, and they now took pride of place atop the chest of drawers in her room. There had been tears (on both sides), but with the promise of being welcome to come back during the holidays, Cinder had been smiling when she’d left the Archives. 

Right now, my daughter’s hair hung at her back in a messy ponytail, and she wore her school uniform: a white blazer (stamped with the logo of the school, an Oak Tree) over a navy blue shirt (with matching trousers) and a red tie. Her black buckle-up shoes were neat and shiny, and her bag had been packed and repacked many times in the last few days.

Gradually, we began to see other children with their parents. Cinder’s soon-to-be classmates. The nattering and laughter of school slowly washed over us, and before long we’d reached the front gate. I let out a sigh, and knelt down to hug Cinder before she headed off on her own. The moment every parent both dreaded and looked forward to and arrived. And I had absolutely no idea how to react.

“Don’t worry Dad!” She all but chirped. “I’ll be fine! I’m your daughter, remember?”

I couldn’t help but smile.

That you are, Cinder.

Chapter Text

September, 70AW:

“You’re doing well, Sir.”

James Ironwood scowled slightly at the doctor as he tested his new prosthetic leg. It frustrated him immensely, having to learn how to walk again. How to pick things up without crushing them again.

He knew it wasn’t the doctor’s fault, it was probably protocol to be somewhat encouraging. But that didn’t stop the Captain feeling a foul mix of frustration and embarrassment and self-disgust.

It was on his slow way back to his hospital bed that he passed a silver-haired boy in a bed that had seemingly just been left in a corridor. This drew his attention immediately. Very few children ever ended up in an exclusively military hospital.

…And then he noticed that the boy’s legs were missing below the knee.

“What...happened to the boy?” James asked quietly.

“..That’s Mercury Black, Sir.” The doctor explained in equally hushed tones. “The son of Marcus Black. His father did that to him when our strike team went in to take him out. We presume as a distraction.”

It took James a few moments to mentally digest the new information. “And what happened to Marcus Black himself?”

“Captain Hawthorn employed the Grigori Doctrine. ” The doctor replied. “If there is anything more than paste left of Black, I’d be surprised.”

Good. The man deserved worse. James thought, although he didn’t vocalize it. “What is going to happen to the boy?”

The doctor shrugged. “Patched up and sent into the foster system, if I were to guess.”

James winced. He had expected something like that. It made sense. No parents. No close relatives. No other real option. But a boy like that, with injuries like that…

He’d been in the Atlesian foster system. Or more precisely, he’d survived the Atlesian foster system. He knew the ins and the outs. He knew the truth of how things worked. He knew that a boy like that wouldn’t last a year. Not a chance.

So he said the only acceptable thing he could. He would do the only acceptable thing he could.

“...I will be requiring some paperwork.”

------------------------------

December, 70AW:

Hello Neighbor! 

As usual, Epsilon Heights will be hosting a little get together to celebrate Year's End, and to watch the various firework displays. Food and hot drinks will be provided. Also as usual, there is to be no alcohol. 

This STILL means you, 9E. You know what you did.

- Winston

------------------------------

January 71AW: 

GENERAL SLEET ANNOUNCES UPCOMING RETIREMENT.

------------------------------

March 71AW: 

IN SHOCK RESULT, CAPTAIN HAWTHORN OF THE AIRFLEET PROMOTED TO GENERAL OF MILITARY. CAPTAIN DRACO STERLING TO DEMAND INVESTIGATION.

------------------------------

June 6th 71AW: 

Cinder 

Wishing you a Happy Eighth Birthday 

-Dad.

------------------------------

December, 71AW:

Hello Neighbor! 

As usual, Epsilon Heights will be hosting a little get together to celebrate Year's End, and to watch the various firework displays. Food and hot drinks will be provided. Also as usual, there is to be no alcohol. 

- Winston

------------------------------

May, 72AW:

It was a known fact amongst the Schnee Manor staff that when Jacques Schnee was drinking tea instead of his usual coffee, he was at his most furious. Unlike his wife, who’s anger burned hot and fizzled out quickly, snuffed out by alcohol and disinterest, Jacques’ anger was as cold as the White Sea.

So it was no surprise that none of them either envied or pitied the poor sod that was currently in his office to explain himself. Mr Samson wore an ill-fitting suit, and frankly looked so pale he looked ill. He’d been led inside by Clark, the goat Faunus that had been Jacques’ close friend for decades and had been his personal butler ever since Jacques took control of the SDC. If there was only one person, one friend, in the world Jacques Schnee trusted absolutely , it was Clark.

“Do you know why the Atlesian Ruling Council doesn’t step in about how I treat my Faunus employees, Mr Samson?” Jacques began, after five minutes of deliberate, suffocating silence. He sat in his chair, whilst Samson was made to stand.

When Samson remained silent, Jacques continued. “Because everything the Schnee Dust Company does is legal. We pay our Faunus workers less because it is legal for us to do so. We don’t ensure as stringent and high safety standards for our Faunus workers because it is legal for us not to do so. We hire and fire our Faunus workers at a higher rate than our human ones and without severance pay, because it is legal for us to do so..”

The Schnee CEO flipped open the file on his desk, revealing both the picture of a mining Foreman and the face of a child, now marred by three ugly letters burned into his skin. SDC. Samson paled even further at the sight of the file’s contents.

“We do not brand our workers like cattle. Because that is illegal. ” 

“Mr Schnee-” Samson made to speak, but Jacques soon cut him off.

“Branding like this is banned by the VPA. That means that, thanks to Foreman Grell’s actions, we are in violation of the VPA. It means I am in violation of the VPA.” Jacques' tone had grown thunderous. “So tell me, Mr Samson. Why in the name of the Brothers would I even begin to consider protecting yourself and Mr Grell from the consequences of your actions?”

“You wouldn’t Sir.”

“Exactly.” Jacques replied. “There is something missing from this file. What happened to the boy after Mr Grell did this?”

Samson mumbled through his answer, keeping his head down.

“Louder, please.” Schnee demanded.

 “We dumped him at the roadside about halfway between Mantle and the Mine.” 

Silence reigned in the office for a full minute.

“Get out of my office, Mr Samson.” Jacques snapped. “ Now . Before I decide to have you branded yourself.”

The man promptly made himself scarce.

“Clark.” Jacques addressed his ever faithful butler. “I will require a meeting with the Board in the morning. It appears some people need reminding that this sort of…. blatant racist fuckery will not be tolerated.”

Clark merely nodded once. “Of course Sir, I will see to it immediately.”

“Thank you. At least someone that works for me is dependable.” Jacques let out a sigh, and lifted his tea cup to his mouth. “Let us hope the name ‘Adam Taurus’ does not come back to haunt us.”

------------------------------

June 6th 72AW: 

Cinder 

Wishing you a Happy Ninth Birthday 

-Dad.

------------------------------

UNKNOWN DATE, 72AW:

Dear valued Customer!

We apologize for the poor selection of merchandise during the last auction. The IACI have sadly been hot on our heels recently. We even had to purge one of our warehouses to cover our tracks. It was wasteful, but it protected your identity and those of your fellow members. On the up side, they were only Faunus, so it was no great loss in the long run.

However, we are proud to announce that the next auction is just weeks away. Details will be sent via the usual means.

We hope to see you there.

-Iron Circle Upper Management.

------------------------------

December, 72AW:

Hello Neighbor! 

As usual, Epsilon Heights will be hosting a little get together to celebrate Year's End, and to watch the various firework displays. Food and hot drinks will be provided. Also as usual, there is to be no alcohol. 

- Winston

------------------------------

March 73AW: 

COUNCILOR’S HALEY AND PETRICHOR ANNOUNCE RETIREMENTS.

------------------------------

June 6th 73AW: 

Cinder 

Wishing you a Happy Tenth Birthday 

-Dad.

------------------------------

July 73AW:

 Mr James Ironwood,

 I am delighted to inform you that your ward, Mercury Black, has a confirmed placement at our proud and historic institution. The school year begins on the third of September. Appropriate uniforms can be ordered from 'Stevensons Tailoring'. 

Yours, 

Cloud Nine 

Headteacher of Oakwood Elementary School

Chapter Text

It’s hard to believe that it has been five years.

Five years since that day in the ruin, with James and the other crew of the AFV Dauntless. Five years since I took a scared little girl out of a cold, empty ruin and brought her home. Five years since Luna Fall took her place firmly at the top of my shit list.

And then she promptly vanished. No one’s seen hide nor hair of her since.

The fact that the most technologically advanced nation on Remnant couldn’t find her, or any trace of her for that matter, was deeply concerning. Worse still, no one had any clue as to what she was even doing in secret. And we were sure she was up to something. Abandoning a child in a lost temple, leaving a letter behind? There was no way she wasn’t up to something.

I just hope that certain people are actually looking into it. Brother’s know Atlas probably won’t. Admittedly, this is because they probably can’t find someone that doesn’t really ‘exist’ like normal people, but sue me, she’s a threat to my daughter.

Speaking of whom..

I glanced over to Cinder, currently in her school uniform and humming a happy tune to herself as she walked ahead of me. She’s gone from an abandoned and frightened child that all but jumped at her own shadow, to a bright young girl, as cheerful as she is confident. Someone with a keen interest in sports and history (the latter of which was almost certainly my doing), and turning into a decent human being to boot.

And I am so damn proud of her!

We’d even gone on vacation to Mistral over the summer. A week of good food, sandy beaches, bright lights and amusement parks. The first vacation Cinder had ever been on. In hindsight, we could probably have gone on an actual vacation before, but finding a place to go on my budget is..difficult. Living in Atlas (the city, not the Kingdom) is expensive, even if you work for the military, and those seven days took about two years of savings.

So, not something we’d be doing every year.

“Mister Leonhardt says we’re getting a new person today.” Cinder told me, drawing me out of my thoughts.

“Oh?” I asked.

“Mhm!” She beamed. “His name is Mercury Black!”

Ah. That’s why he wanted to talk about Oakwood. About a month ago, completely out of the blue, James Ironwood came to my office. My Brother’s be damned office. Not to ask me about information he required for a deployment. Not for hunting down a criminal.

But for schools for his ward. More specifically, my opinion on Oakwood Elementary. I had known that James had taken on the guardianship of the young Mercury. It was pretty much an open secret amongst the military, if it was even considered a secret at all. So I had given my opinion, Oakwood was a fine school with good teachers and a warm, welcoming atmosphere.

I suppose Ironwood trusts me more than I realize. And wasn’t that a somewhat scary thought. ‘Mister Military’ himself trusted me. That could either be really good, or really bad in the long run.

“Ah. Well, you be sure to be nice to him, alright? I’m sure he’s nervous about joining a new school.” I grinned to myself at the almost eager series of nods Cinder gave in response. “And I’m also sure that someone as sunny as you will cheer him up if he needs it.”

She grinned at the praise, and skipped ahead, leaving me behind. It let me enjoy the quiet of the early morning, before the rush. It’s going to be a fairly busy day on my end, and I will almost certainly be requiring more coffee than is healthy to get through it with my sanity intact. A delegation from Menagerie is coming and everyone is going to be running around trying to ensure no one has the opportunity to ' accidentally ’ attack the delegates. 

Dear Brothers, it’s University all over again. Minus the alcohol and sleep deprivation.

Eventually, we arrived at the school, joining the throng of children and parents. It wasn’t as busy as it had been a week earlier at that start of term, but I suppose the newer parents and students have finally started to settle into their schedules.

“Be safe, Cinder. See you later.”

“See you later Dad!” Cinder waved as she went through the school gates. “Love you!”

“Love you too sweetie!”

His legs still felt weird.

It had been three months since James had gifted him his newest prosthetics. Before, he had made do with legs made out of little more than a special type of plastic. It had taken time, but he had gotten the hang of it. But now, he had some of the most advanced prosthetics money and technology could provide. They were pretty much just a smaller version of the one James himself had. They were also considerably more sensitive than his old ones, and he still occasionally slipped up.

Dad… Marcus had always said Atlas and the Atlesian’s that lived there were as arrogant as they were self-absorbed. But from what Mercury had seen, it was less to do with arrogance and more to do with the fact that Atlesian’s tended to keep to themselves, and tended to reserve warmth and familial sentiments for when they were behind closed doors. But they were perfectly capable and willing to be warm.

The welcome he received from his now fellow students had been proof of that. Questions and smiles and countless introductions had been what had greeted him. It was so very… different, to how he had spent his life. But after three years of therapy and private tutors, three years of interacting with more than just his Da-.. with Marcus, three years of playing catch up..he felt ready to actually rejoin the world.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t exhausting. He found himself sat beneath the tree in the playground during the lunch break, just to take the chance and catch his breath. The lessons at school were different, but enjoyable (And he was grateful that he could put his skill with numbers to use in Mathematics).

He was just about to dig his book out of his bag, when he finally realized that he wasn’t actually alone. There was a girl standing over him. Her black hair was held in a messy ponytail, and her golden eyes alight with barely restrained glee.

Cinder Schwartz. That was her name. 

“Uhm…hello?”

“Hi!” She replied, her cheerfulness not dimming one bit.

“Are you…I mean..” Mercury mumbled through his words as he got to his feet. “Do you need me for something?”

Cinder shook her head, and stepped forward. After a few moments, she extended a hand. Unsure of what else to do, he extended his own to grasp hers. Barely a second later though…

“Come on!” She all but chirped as she led him away from the shade. “Let’s go do something fun!”

“L-Like what?”

She turned around, and smiled at him. “No clue! But I’m sure we’ll figure it out!”

In the years that followed, Mercury would reflect on what that smile, so shining and happy and joyful, would be the start of. In everything that followed, the good times and the bad, the grief and the glory, he would remember that it would be that smile that started it all.  

What would end up being the best, worst and at times (far too many times) the most downright insane journey of his life began that cool and sunny autumn afternoon, with Cinder Schwartz all but dragging him along to play with his classmates and away from loneliness and self-imposed isolation.

Chapter Text

We spent the morning helping the Oranges preparing documentation for the meeting between the Menagarian delegation and our own. The Military Admin Adjutant that had been sent to assist us with selecting and gathering the files that we needed had been even less than useless. He clearly didn’t really know what files he needed, and when he finally decided to just tell us everything they needed, rather than one file at a time, he decided to inform us that physical copies of the files would be required. Copies we have barely two hours to make and get to the Starlight Tower.

Now, in fairness, most of that rant is probably partially the stress, frustration and copious amount of caffeine talking. But fewer things frustrate me more than the brand of apathy and idiocy that only really rears its head when Atlas meets with Menagerie. The first time it happened, I thought it was just a bad mess-up as sometimes happens in any career.  But it happened the second time. And the third. And now it’s happening a fourth time. And as the old saying unfortunately goes: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern (or enemy action, depending on the situation).

So after longer than my sanity could take, I finished the file I was working on, and stood up. I emptied my coffee cup of its contents, and made my way through the Archives to Glover’s office.

“Royce.” I addressed Glover by name as I stepped inside. “I’m gonna take a walk. Clear my head a bit.”

“Hm.”

Okay, that’s not alarming at all, is it? “Is something wrong, sir?”

“Captain Stirling has been suspiciously quiet.” Glover said with a sigh. “The Greys will be keeping an eye on him, but the Captaincy is convinced he’ll try something.”

“Which is exactly what we need.” I snarked, my voice thick with sarcasm. “The most racist man in the Military is up to something the very week that the Menagerian Ambassadors are in Atlas. That isn’t suspicious in the least, is it?”

Glover gave a grunt in response, and took a deep sip of coffee. “Go take that walk, Casper. You’re getting frustrated. And given you’re usually the sanest person in the room these days, it’d be better for all of us if you’ve a clear head.”

I offered a half-hearted salute to my Captain, and ducked out of the Archives building. A couple of my fellow archivists were also outside, sneaking in a cigarette or two before returning to the hecticness of the office. 

I opted to just take a walk around the main academy building. The air was beginning to cool now, as Summer faded away, and Fall took hold.

“Things are that bad, huh?” 

Approaching me, dressed in the white, blue and red uniform of the Atlesian Specialists was someone I actually recognised. Although it had taken me a moment, as her olive green hair was now cut short save for a braid on the left side of her face.

“Nonette?” She had been one of the students that had checked in with them during his breaks, and had taken care of Cinder during the Paladin Incident. Judging by her uniform, she stayed in the military after graduation. “You made Specialist?”

“Mhm, I did indeed!. Same with the rest of Team NYYT” She grinned. “Doing our duty to the Kingdom and all that. Someone even had the bright idea to have us be the bodyguards of our in-coming visitors. Honestly, you win one Vytal Tournament, and suddenly the higher-ups roll you out like a trophy at every opportunity.”

I fought back a grin. Whilst Cinder and I hadn’t managed to go to either the 70AW or 72AW Vytal Festival Tournament, we had watched them on TV (with popcorn!). The final of the latter had been hard fought, with the Atlesian Team achieving victory in the final by the slimmest of margins. Nonette’s teammate (one of the Yesta twins, if I recalled things correctly.) managed to snatch a victory by aura exhaustion against a member of a team from Vacuo. It was a close thing, almost resulting in a draw. 

But as the Vacuan had hit aura exhaustion mere seconds before the Yesta twin did, Atlas claimed a victory.

“Moving up in the world then.”

“Fuck you Casper.” She let out a cheerful laugh. “You know we don’t mind doing it, but it’s a fairly boring assignment. We’re not expecting trouble, and the Menagerian’s apparently aren’t the type to start it.” 

“Just be careful, alright? Their visit isn’t exactly going to be popular outside the Military.”

“Hey, at the end of the day it’s just guard duty.” She shrugged. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Don’t go tempting Fate now, Specialist.” I replied with a faint grin. “She is a petty bitch, after all.”

“True enough!” Nonette clapped her hands. “Now! Tell me about the Little Lady. How’s she doing these days?”

My grin widened, and I fell into a companionable conversation with the young woman, trying (and failing) not to boast about my little girl.

Menagerie was, according to the Vytal Peace Accords, not permitted a military in any form. No navy, or airfleet or ground forces. For a number of decades after the Great War, Mistral had even objected to them even having a police-slash-self defense force, but after it was revealed that the Mistralli Government had on more than one occasion tried to smuggle Grimm to their island home (the only place on Remnant that didn’t have Grimm no less), even Atlas had put their foot down and called their ally out on their bullshit.

It was this thought that ran through the head of Sienna Khan as she kept her gaze at the ever approaching form of the City of Atlas on the horizon with the ugly, urban sprawl of Mantle beneath it. Stood on the bridge of the MV Audumla, she kept her lack of confidence in this delegation to herself. Ghira trusted her to have his back, and she would not undermine him, even if her faith in the Atlesian’s was…minimal, at best.

She was there as the head of security on the trip, as well as the representative of the Menagerian Outreach Group, affectionately known to Menagerie’s citizens (and less affectionately by the wider world) as the White Fang. 

Ghira would be the Fang’s representative himself, but as he was officially going to Atlas as Menagerie’s Representative, their own laws prevented him from holding two positions. And unlike some Kingdoms that would remain unnamed, they at least prided themselves on not being corrupt.

So it was after considerable thought that they had bought a Sky-Sailor from YAMATO Shipyards to serve as their sole diplomatic Vessel. 

The foremost shipbuilders of Remnant hadn’t even sold them a second-hand or unfinished vessel. Sienna supposed it was due to valuing their name and brand too much to let a subpar vessel bear their name. 

It still cost them considerably more than it probably should have done though. The Mistralli based Company had to do something so as to not appear as to be treating Faunus as equals after all, and charging them at least fifteen million Lien more than the Sky-Sailor was actually worth was clearly their way of doing so.

They had named it the Audumla (after the first Chieftain of Menagerie). Vacuo had been sent an ambassador to witness the launch of the vessel, the memory of their last Queen still kept fondly in their hearts. Vale too had sent someone, but Mistral had launched a protest with the Vytal Courts, claiming their having a vessel for diplomatic purposes violated the VPA. 

Atlas had, predictably and thankfully, kept out of the whole thing.

“No matter how many times I see it, I cannot help but find the City of Atlas impressive.” A familiar voice filled her ears. Ghira Belladonna, Designated Successor to the Chieftainship of Menagerie, loving husband and father and one of her oldest friends took up a spot at her side. “Even if I might not want to, sometimes.”

“..Try growing up beneath it.” Sienna replied quietly.

“I am sorry for dragging you back here.” Ghira told her in a genuinely apologetic tone. “I know you don’t have many good memories of this place.” 

His friend and colleague let out an almost wistful sigh. “If I thought my homeland was beyond saving, I wouldn’t miss it nearly as much as I do.” 

Chapter Text

The dock that the Menagerian contingent had been directed to by the Atlesian Military’s Airship Terminal wasn’t empty when the MV Audumla touched down. Four figures awaited them as the group, with Ghira at their head, left the Sky-Sailor.

Even if their uniforms were highly individualized, the White, Blue and Red colour scheme they shared was practically known the world over. All four were obvious members of the Atlesian Specialists. 

“Oh look.” Sienna commented with a smirk, causing Ghira to frown. “Our handlers are waiting for us.”

“Peace, Sienna.” Her friend replied. “None of that. We’re here for diplomacy, not to spark a war.”

“That’s what you are here for.” She fired back. “I’m here to ensure Kali doesn’t lose her husband and little Blake doesn’t lose her father. Anything else is a bonus.”

“I doubt that I am important enough for Atlas to attempt anything. Nor do I think that Atlas would break international law by killing an official Ambassador.” 

“You are the Designated Successor, Ghira.” Sienna reminded him. “You’ll be Head of the Menagerian State when Kali’s father steps down. You are an obvious target for those that cling to ideals of human supremacy. It might not be as bad as in Mistral, but those ideals are still present here in Atlas.”

Ghira did not argue the point.

It was when they were halfway to the main building that one of the four left their own group to meet them between the Audumla and the rest of her team. She had short, olive green hair, with a short braid down the left side of her face. 

She wore a white jacket over a blue shirt, red wristguards and a pair of blue fingerless gloves. Her leggings were white, and her boots were black.

“Welcome to the Kingdom of Atlas, Sir.” the woman offered a crisp salute. “I am Specialist Nonette Hughes. Myself and my team have been assigned as your protection for the duration of your stay in our Kingdom.”

“Ghira Belladonna, Representative of the Menagerian Government.” He introduced himself, and gestured to Sienna at his side. “This is my longtime friend and colleague Sienna Khan, Representative of our Outreach Group.”

“And Head of Security.” She chimed in. “I assume that there is a reason that we have an escort this time? Are you expecting trouble?”

The Specialist let out a sheepish chuckle. “Something like that. Unfortunately, some of the more...distasteful members of the military have been unusually quiet recently. The General is convinced that they are planning something, so whilst admittedly we would ordinarily be here to ‘keep an eye on you’ as it were, in this instance we really are here for your own protection.”

Sienna didn’t bother to hide her frown. “And to keep an eye on us, yes?”

“...We have no orders to do that, ma’am.” Nonette replied. “And I hope we have no reason to do so. It’d put a dampener on this whole thing.”

“You will not.” Ghira cut in. “I shall make sure of it, Specialist Hughes.”

“I appreciate it, Representative Belladonna.” The olive haired woman smiled gratefully. She then proceeded to lead the group over to her team. They had remained standing at ease during the conversation, but snapped to attention and saluted when the Menagerian group reached them.

“Introductions.” She first gestured to the pair of obvious siblings. “These are Caelus and Terra.” 

Caelus wore a sleeveless white waistcoat over a red shirt. His trousers were blue and had an abundance of pockets, and his boots were black and red and clearly intended to be used in most if not all terrains.

Terra wore a similar uniform, albeit one that actually had sleeves. Both had deep brown eyes and dusty blonde hair, although Caelus’ was kept short and wild and Terra’s was in an impressive plait that came halfway down her back.

“Ah.” It was Ghira that spoke. “The famous Yesta twins, yes?”

“Correct sir.” Caelus answered. “Although I believe my sister is more famous than I am.”

“Aye, I’m afraid I cannot dispute that.”  Ghira chuckled, and turned his attention to Terra. “If it is not too much trouble, I would appreciate your autograph before I leave, Miss Yesta. My wife is quite the fan.” 

“It’s no trouble at all, Representative Belladonna.” Terra replied with a small smile. “I’d be happy to provide one for her.”

“And the last of our quartet, Taji Shen.” Nonette cut in, and gestured to the lean individual, whose longcoat-like uniform had a hood, unlike those of their teammates. A few stray locks of pale blonde hair peaked their way out from under it, and a wicked looking chain-whip made its home on their belt. “They’re quiet, but usually the voice of sanity amongst us.”

Taji offered a faint nod in greeting. “...Hello.”

Sienna returned it, and privately decided that Taji was already her favourite of the ‘protection’ team. Not that she had much to go on yet. But she had always preferred the quieter ones, especially ones that weren’t overly boasty.

The fact that Taji’s accent was neither Atlesian or Mantellian was another thing in their favour.

Nonette cleared her throat, gaining everyone’s attention. “Forgive me for moving things along, but I do believe that Starlight Tower awaits you, Sir. Best not keep the bigwigs waiting, for all our sakes.”

Albus Hawthorn watched as the irate figure of Absinthe Campbell stalked around his office, and wondered how the woman managed to do so for so long without breathing. He could understand her anger, if he was honest. 

She had had a great deal of pressure put upon her since she became the Headmistress of Atlas, and had to compromise her personal code of ethics on more than one occasion. She’d covered up missteps of his own agents and allowed Ozpin access to files he really had no business in seeing. And she’d had to deal with Branwen being his usual unsober self.

But in spite of all of that…

“Five years.” Absinthe seethed. “I’ve been Headmistress of Atlas Academy for five years. If he can trust me with the existence of the Relics, Maidens and Salem, why does he not trust me with the bigger picture of what he’s doing?”

“He does like to pull the ‘I’m bloody cryptic’ act more often than he should.” Hawthorn smiled. “But even if you don’t trust him, trust me. Ozpin’s doing what is needed. It’s frustrating, I know. But what you are doing, and what you have done, has been and is appreciated.”

“Stop defending him.” Absinthe snapped as she made to leave his office. “I swear, Albus. If he doesn’t start actually telling me why I’m doing what he wants me to do, I’ll resign as Headmistress and go back to beating on Grimm. Let some other poor schmuck deal with his bullshit. Now come on, we’ll be late for the meeting.”

“I need to make a call.” Albus said. “Go on, I’ll catch up.”

“...I’m not apologizing for you if you are late.” She warned as she departed.

“Understood!” He cheerfully called after her, before waiting a few moments to make sure she was gone. When he was certain that Absinthe was out of earshot, he sat at his desk and began typing.

“Albus?” The image of Headmaster Oliver Ozpin appeared on the screen. “I wasn’t aware that we were due a meeting today. Dare I ask what’s happened?”

“It’s a small thing, Oz. But it ought to be dealt with sooner rather than later.” Hawthorn began. “You know that I trust you, my friend. But Abby really doesn’t. Unless you throw her a bone or two, we might well have another Raven on our hands.”

“..I doubt Absinthe will go that far.” His colleague replied. “But I take your point. I have pushed her further than I ordinarily would. Someone coming into the Inner Circle when they are already in a position of authority is not a common occurrence.”

“Perhaps that’s the problem, my friend.” The General commented. “How many of the Circle have their current positions because of you and your...input?”

Ozpin remained silent.

“All but her, Oz.” Hawthorn continued. “True, Fiona chose her as her successor, but that was based entirely on her talent as an educator. You had no input in her placement.”

“..All true.” Ozpin conceded.

“So, I must ask..” He cleared his throat, and looked the man on the screen in the eye. “Is the reason you’ve tested her so much, because she wasn’t your choice? Or because she’s a Campbell?”

Chapter Text

In the minutes after his call with Albus Hawthorn, Ozpin found himself deep in thought. It was a rare thing for him to experience a misstep, even if he had made more missteps than he could count. Absinthe Campbell (or Arnold. he honestly didn’t understand why Atlas still held her husband’s family in such contempt) was not someone he honestly could claim to know. Fiona had picked her own successor without much input from him. And whilst both she and Albus vouched for the younger woman, he had been tricked and betrayed via a non-protege more than once in the past. It was only natural he would be somewhat harder on her than others. 

But as time went by, and she had proven worthy of trust, his doubt of her faded. He had shared secrets with her, secrets that as both a proud Huntress and proud Atlesian she would invariably keep. Had he really made an effort for Absinthe to trust him, or was it merely her upbringing and career that led her to keep those secrets? The answer, it seemed, was the latter.

And so it was that he was deciding whether or not to share with Absinthe what was perhaps the biggest secret within the Inner Circle.

Sanctuary.

Or more accurately, The Sanctuary Facility. The effective Headquarters of his Circle, and where he lived outside of term time. Its defences were entirely automated, and its staff utterly loyal to him (even more so than Qrow ). It had entire libraries of books and scrolls ( actual parchment scrolls no less), more relics than all the museums of the world combined and a single, secured cell. 

There was a reason for the presence of the cell. Sanctuary was where the Fall Maiden was kept. Whilst the other parts had begun to utilise their Maidens in recent decades, he had kept to his tried and tested method. It might make others somewhat uncomfortable to think about, but it had proven to be the safest option of keeping the powers within his influence.

This method had been tested somewhat seven years ago, when a knight in black armour led an attack on the Facility, he had stuck on a moonless night and had Grimm take out all of the forward watch posts almost simultaneously. Thus blinded to the danger, the most secure and secret facility on the face of Remnant fell under a surprise attack.

Ozpin had seen the footage from the courtyard. Nova gave as good as she got, even using the Fall Maiden powers to their fullest extent. But the knight had clearly been raised as a Maiden-Killer, as though his sole purpose in life was to kill Maiden after Maiden after Maiden. Knowing Salem as well as he did, the Knight probably had been.

He’d almost smiled when he’d watched Nova bring her killer down with her. Admittedly, she’d had to resort to asphyxiating both herself and the knight, but a victory was a victory. She’d succeeded in her sole priority, the protection of her Maiden Powers. Admittedly, transferring them to her then seven year old daughter was not to his preference, but he could appreciate how easy Nova made it to find her successor.

Once, he would have mourned the Knight’s death as a waste of talent, twisted to a Witch’s dark purpose. But after millenia spent fighting Her and Hers, he could at least respect the man keeping to his oaths unto death. In accordance with their ages-old pact, he had burned Salem’s knight atop a lonely pyre, with no one save himself and a single Strix as witness. No doubt he’d earned a place on Salem’s almost sacred Wall. Given what he had spoken at the pyre, Nova’s name was no doubt just beneath it.

It saddened him to think that his fallen friend’s daughter would never, and likely could never know of the world outside the Sanctuary facility. The protection of the Fall Maiden’s power, and thus the Relic of Choice, was in the long run more important than the freedom of one person. So a fourteen year old would be kept in the same complex in which she was born until she was either needed for the relic (after which she’d be returned), or died.

Every need Amber Carpo could ever possibly have would be catered to, of course. He wasn’t, as a number of people claimed, heartless. She’d live in as close to utter luxury as possible, and be trained to use her powers by the very best of his Circle.

He let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding in, and moved to place a call on his scroll. He had made his choice. With everything taken into account, it was unreasonable not to trust Absinthe with this. She had earned her place in the Inner Circle. History might repeat, but his own history should have taught him that history wouldn’t always repeat. Just because one non-protege had betrayed him didn’t mean that every non-protege would.

The call was answered, but the screen remained black. The Head of the Facility was a stickler for the secrecy rules, even refraining from calling him by name and insisting on the same in return.

“What colour is the road?” The voice on the other side asked.

“Yellow.” He replied.

“..We were not expecting a call from you, sir. Are we compromised?”

“Not at all.” Ozpin answered. “I am authorising Absinthe Campbell for the Sanctuary Facility.”

“ Are you certain?” The voice asked. “ Once granted, authorisation cannot be revoked. Not even by you. ”

“I am aware.” He sighed. “But it was pointed out to me recently that I cannot en trust her with information whilst dis trusting her with the bigger picture. Moreover, Albus is bringing his protege into the Circle soon. There is no viable excuse for allowing James Ironwood knowledge that someone that has served faithfully for half a decade doesn’t already have.” 

“...Understood. ” The voice replied. “ ....A Voice Confirmation is required.”

Ozpin fought the urge to sigh again. Sometimes, he felt he had too many safeguards. “...Confirmed.”

“Acknowledged. Sanctuary Authorisation for Absinthe Campbell has been granted.”

“...Thank you, my friend.”

Cinder Schwartz considered herself quite lucky.

Not only did she have an awesome Dad who she loved and who loved her, she also had a nice and warm place to call home, a whole host of people at Dad’s work that she could trust if she needed help and a place at a good school.

And today, it seemed she’d made a new friend.

Mercury Black was quiet, smart, and had a pair of cool mechanical legs (not that she voiced that last one. She did have what Dad would call ‘tact’.). After meeting during the first break, her new friend sat next to her in the next few lessons, and proved to be really good at Maths.

They’d even managed to finish their work early! Mister Leonhardt had even said they did good work! Dad would be proud, and that thought made her happy. They had history after lunch, so maybe she could help Mercury like he helped her? It was her best subject, aside from sports.

As the lunch break arrived, the pair opted to go to the tree where they had really met. It was as good a place as any to sit and eat. It was around the point she finished eating, that something in the sky caught Cinder’s eye. The ship was strange, with an actual sail. It appeared to be made of, or at least was covered in, wood. 

“It’s a YAMATO Sky-Sailor, I think.” Mercury commented when he saw it too. “James says they’re comfortable, but not all that fast. Usually used by diplomats.”

Cinder merely watched with an awed look on her face, as the Sky-Sailor climbed into the air. She might have grown up in Atlas, and was thus used to seeing the sky filled with all sorts of airships, bullheads and airbuses, but she’d never seen a ship like that. She wondered what it was doing in Atlas.

“Huh.” She turned to Mercury. “Who do you think it belongs to?”

Her friend shrugged. “Probably someone important.”

“Probably!” 

Chapter Text

Sienna Khan trailed behind Ghira after they’d left the Starlight Tower. It was around three in the afternoon now, and after almost six solid hours of discussion and debate, she needed food, coffee, and a nap. Preferably in that order.

It was as their little group drifted to the facility’s canteen that she went over her thoughts on the current members of the Atlesian Ruling Council.

Headmistress Absinthe Campbell. She had looked in dire need of a stiff drink for most of the meeting. Sienna honestly wondered why she was still in her job, given how she had started it. Someone had shot her over her appointment, after all. But in the years that had followed her appointment, she had earned a reputation for fairness and strictness in equal measure.

General Albus Hawthorn. A good man, all things considered. He had continued the ‘no racist bullshit’ policy of the Atlesian Military, and now even had a full quarter of his officers be Faunus. None were amongst the Captaincy yet, but Sienna was not one to complain about progress when it happened.

Councilor Jet Nuncio. The Representative of Mantle. He’d been a bit too relaxed for Sienna’s liking and spent most of the meeting quite literally lounging in his chair, but he still enjoyed the support of the Atlesian Faunus, so he must be doing something right. 

Councilor Lethe Oracion. The Representative of the ‘Familial Estates’, and a member of one of the wealthier families of Atlas, although not part of the uppermost bracket. She had been polite in tone, but seemed a little too… attached to the word ‘Uplift’, and the idea of ‘Uplifting’ Menagerie.

Councilor Perry Cauldwin. The most recent addition to the Council and the Representative of Atlas proper. He had been the most critical of any proposals brought forward during the meeting, but afterwards had quietly pulled her aside during an earlier break to explain that someone had to be the negative and-or critical viewpoint, and unfortunately he had drawn the short straw. And to be fair to the man, his reasoning was more along pragmatic lines than the typical Atlesian rhetoric of “It’s Menagerie, why would we help?”. Menagerie was simply too far away and too underdeveloped to justify the billions of Lien it would take to bring them up to the standard of the other nations of Remnant. 

Which, in his defense, was true. If anything, it was grossly underestimating the cost of ‘uplifting’ Menagerie to the international standard. The building and outfitting of a CCT Tower alone would cost at least ten golden lien cards, if not more, and they simply didn’t have that much money in their coffers to spare. Hell, they barely had that much money full stop. And as he pointed out, Ko Kuana might be the capital of the Chiefdom, but even some of the more ‘temporary’ settlements of the great Mistralli and Valean wildernesses were more advanced than it.

But he had said that if the motion to back Menagerie’s elevation to Kingdom status was brought up during his tenure on the Council, he would back it without hesitation. And so, for the first time in its history, all members of the ARC actually supported Menagerie’s existence, even if one of them could not do so publicly.

All in all, the Atlesian Ruling Council, to her surprise, had actually appeared genuine in their negotiations. Four of the five seat council seemed eager to actually negotiate with them, in a vast change to their usual stances.

There was talk of Embassies, greater trade and the loosening of restrictions, even CCT integration. It was practically everything shy of Kingdom status. It was beyond generous. It was too good to be true.

So naturally, both she and Ghira were suspicious. Suspicious, but hopeful.

But that was now in the past, at least until tomorrow. She had engaged Taji Shen in quiet conversation on their way back from the Starlight Tower. The hooded member of NYYT had proven to be a polite, if hesitant conversationalist. It had quite quickly become evident that they did not like talking, so she had soon stopped, thus allowing her to hear her friend and boss conversing with Specialist Hughes ahead of her. They’d been discussing security and the following day's timetable, along with restaurant recommendations of all things.

It had almost been a relief when they’d arrived at their destination. The canteen was frankly, vast, with more people than she could count currently enjoying a break. It once again hammered home how utterly huge the Atlesian Military was.

The Yesta twins had gone to get them all food and drinks, and the rest of their group went off to find a table. Hughes clearly picked it deliberately, as the Specialist all but waltzed up to a particular person and sat down next to him. The woman waved them over, and the dark haired man already at the table glanced up at them and greeted them with a nod.

“Archivist Schwartz.” The man introduced himself with a salute. “A pleasure to meet you, Ambassador Belladonna.”

“ Representative. ” Ghira corrected, not unkindly. “ Ambassadors are from Kingdoms, which Menagerie is not.”

“Geez.” Schwartz answered with a sheepish smile. “We were really that petty, huh?”

“I believe it was Mistral that insisted on that, actually.” Ghira shrugged. “But it is my wife that is the historian, so I am not entirely certain.”

“Fair enough…Let me start over then.” Schwartz cleared his throat. “A pleasure to meet you, Representative Belladonna.”

“Likewise, Archivist Schwartz.” Ghira gestured towards her. “This is my colleague Sienna Khan. She is here representing our Outreach Group.” 

She merely gave the Atlesian a nod, and remained silent. Schwartz’s smile didn’t even falter, he merely returned the nod.

Specialist Hughes piped up again now. “Bit late for lunch Casper, don’t you think?”

“I’m just grabbing a quick coffee.” He replied with an easy smile, lifting his mug up in a mock salute. “Gotta go pick Cinder up from school soon and want to be a functioning adult when I do so.”

Ghira snorted. “I am much the same. I love my Blake dearly, but she is exhausting.”

“I think that’s the general purpose of daughters at their age, my friend.” The Archivist proceeded to take out his scroll, and promptly brought up a picture of a positively adorable child, presumably the aforementioned ‘Cinder’, dressed in her school uniform and smiling cheerfully. If she was honest, Sienna thought the girl looked a lot like Blake, albeit without her ears. “But I’m sure you’ll agree, it’s worth it.”

“On that, Archivist, I must agree.” Ghira took out his own scroll, producing a picture of Blake. Kali’s favorite one, of Blake playing on the beach. And soon enough, any hesitation her friend had about the Atlesian man was clearly gone. They were just two dads gushing about their daughters.

Her attention was drawn to Taji, who quite suddenly, become alert. Given how at ease they’d been for the duration of the meeting and traveling around the facility, it was somewhat concerning that their demeanor had changed so dramatically. When she shot him a questioning look, they merely responded with a succinct: “Trouble.” 

Before she could ask him to elaborate, elaboration arrived…

..In the form of one of their ship navigators.

“Ma’am!” He all but shrieked. “The Audumla’s gone! ”

Chapter Text

“Remus, calm down.” It was Ghira that approached the navigator. “Explain what’s happened.”

The man took a few calming breaths. “It’s the Audumla, sir. It’s gone. They took it, and about a dozen of the crew!”

“Who? Who took them?”

“Ghira.” Remus paused, the eyes of the whole room upon him. “They were Atlesian.”

What followed the pronouncement can only be described as at least ten different kinds of chaos. A dozen voices started barking orders left and right and a hoard of people dashed out of the canteen to get to their offices.

“Archivist.” Sienna Khan’s voice stopped me from going to my own office. “I’m going to assume from the fact we haven’t been detained yet that this isn’t a problem Atlas can blame on us yet.”

Before I could answer, my duty caught up with me..

“SCHWARTZ!” Glover’s voice filled the room, gaining the attention of the few people that were left. When they realized they were not the ones being addressed, they all hurried off themselves. “HERE! NOW!”

“Sir?”

“Walk with me. You are being assigned to this mission.” He informed me as we swiftly strode through the hallways of the base. “Along with myself.”

“..Not that I am unhappy..” I began, and judging from the look on Glover’s face, he knew I was unashamedly lying through my teeth, and desperately wanted to call me out on my bullshit. The man could be quite expressive when he wanted to be. “But why the hell am I the one accompanying you for this, Sir?”

“..Because you are to hand.” Glover replied as we marched. “And because you hate politics with a burning passion, you will be able to keep silent and just take notes. Since the potential political shitstorm this incident could cause is frankly massive, I want it recorded exactly as it happens, not prettied up for our own sake. Consider that an order, Archivist Schwartz.”

…Brothers I wish that wasn’t such a good point. “Understood, Sir.”

“Good, now with the greatest respect..keep your mouth shut during this meeting.” Before I could respond, we arrived at the General’s office. A meeting was already in progress, with General Hawthorn hurriedly throwing together a plan with Captain Ironwood, Headmistress Arnold and a few others I didn’t recognise. 

I took my place next to Glover, and after taking out my scroll, began to take notes.

“We’ll take the Dauntless. ” Ironwood said, likely answering a question that was asked before our arrival. “It’s faster than the Pride of Solitas and considerably less of a…statement than deploying the bloody Flagship of the Airfleet to Vytal unannounced.”

“Do it.” Hawthorn ordered, before turning his attention to Absinthe. “Headmistress Arnold, send word to Vytal. I’d rather cover all our bases just in case..and I’d prefer to keep the Academy out of this mess as long as I am able. But prepare your students, just in case.”

“Understood General.” She snapped out a salute. “It is appreciated.”

Then the General looked at Ghira, and let out a heavy sigh.

“Representative Belladonna, I have no legal right to ask this.” Hawthorn began. “But I will anyway. Come with us. There is a good chance we may need to shoot down your vessel. I would prefer to do so with your permission….and allow you the certainty we took all possible measures not to do so.”

Ghira’s face morphed into an expression of stony anger, and he merely answered by way of a single nod. Sienna didn’t bother to hide her mounting fury, and thankfully did not act on it.

“...You all know the cost of failure.” Hawthorn said in a tone of quiet authority. “So don’t fail. Go do your duties.”

So, now I’ve been dragged into a mission to stop rogue soldiers from bombing Vytal and sparking a race war the likes of which Remnant hasn’t seen in centuries, make sure the Menagarian Representatives don’t end up killed, and make sure that Atlas doesn’t get blamed.

And hopefully do it all in time to eat dinner with my daughter (since there was no way in hell this was getting done before school kicked out).

….No pressure then. 

Draco Stirling, Senior Captain of Atlesian Civilian Security and a lifelong (if private) backer of the Anti-Vytal Front, stood on the bridge of the MV Audumla as it cut a path through the skies. It was a shame, in his mind, that such a fine ship was wasted on Faunus. YAMATO Shipyards always did an incredible job. One that the Chiefdom of Menagerie, that mockery of nationhood, wasn’t worthy of.

It would take weeks to get their stink out.

His new companion was from another branch of the AVF, and it had taken considerable effort to get her into the Kingdom without anyone in authority noticing. But now? When they were surrounded by his own loyal soldiers? Now they could drop all the lies and the masks and the tolerance and do what had to be done.

They had kept some of the ship’s crew and forced them at rifle point to put on the uniform of the Menagerian Outreach Bureau. They would be the scapegoats. The ‘official’ attackers. The ones that would be executed for this great crime. They were under guard, of course. He was grateful to his new colleague for the idea of holding them under guard on the bridge and not in a spare room. She had pointed out that stuffing them in some room or other would give them the chance to make a plan to stop their own.

The name she had given, ‘Apate Monkshood’ was quite blatantly fake, but if she could get him what he wanted, Draco wouldn’t pursue her real one. There was little point in antagonizing his allies, after all. And should they, Brothers forbid, fail, it would be easier for her to slink away and regroup with their brothers and sisters with all the data he had given her.

If Atlas betrayed him, it wouldn’t be betrayal to stab them in the back in return.                                                                             .

“We’re so very close.” She said as she gazed out the main windows.

“Just wait, Monkshood.” Stirling told her. “Glory awaits us. Once we do this, we will earn our place in the history books as Heroes of Humanity! The Council’s of the world might claim that Faunus are equal to us..” 

Monkshood glanced at him as he continued.

“..But the moment a Menagarian ship bombs the Vytal War Memorial? The International Courts? The Central Bank?” The man smiled. “The Kingdoms would finally stop seeing those animals as our ‘equals’ and put them back in their rightful place under our boots.”

“And, should the Atlesian fleet decide to simply shoot us from the sky, they will no doubt refuse to admit to the wider world that they got played. Easier and more politic to pin all the blame on the White Fang rather than a ‘rogue member of the Captaincy’. After all, Atlas must always be right. ” Monkshood replied with a smug grin. “After which, we could more feasibly invade Menagerie. It would be a legitimate military target at that point, after all.”

Stirling blinked. “I hadn’t considered that. But it is a reasonable idea. An entire island that can be converted into a workforce for the glory and betterment of Solitas.”

As he began practically salivating at the thought of invasion, and others on the bridge joined in, Monkshood quietly excused herself, and headed into the nearest empty room she could find. After ensuring that it was indeed private, she took out her scroll and made a call.

“...I don’t have long.” She said to the person on the other side of the call. “But I was of the belief that I should give one final update.”

“ ...Proceed.” Her handler commanded.

“We are an hour or so away from the Island of Vytal. The targets have been picked out for maximum chance at civilian casualties. If we have any agents active on Vytal, now would be the time to pull them out.” 

“..We are in the process of doing so, worry not.” Came the reply. “What of Stirling? Does he suspect anything?”

“Stirling thinks I’m a restrained but zealous supporter of ‘pro-human’ doctrine. In other words, he’s an idiot.” She began. “But I’ll acknowledge that he’s a useful one. We can make use of him for now, and hang him out to..well.. hang , later.”

“ That may need to be literal. What we are risking with this operation is incredible. Discovery, even partially, is unacceptable.” Her colleague reminded her. “You have the attention of the Princess. Do not screw up. For all our sakes.”

“I have it handled boss, don’t worry.”

Carmine Escaldos, the best solo operative of the Asturias Clan smiled to herself. It had been child’s play to twist the racist fuckwit and his loyalists into enacting this piss-poor attempt at a false flag attack. Bringing down the ire of the other three Kingdoms upon Atlas, either for attacking Vytal or for allowing such an attack to happen…bringing about the next war and the collapse of the modern order..well, that was almost worth letting the Faunus have their much sought after equality if it achieved the Clan’s goals.

Almost.

Chapter Text

Sienna Khan dug her nails into her arm, and bit her lip hard enough that her mouth was soon filled with the taste of copper.

This. This is what she had been telling Ghira for years.

Peaceful protest, whilst noble, simply didn’t work in the world in which they lived. True, they had gained a smattering of minor victories in Vacuo and Vale in recent years. But Vale still barred Faunus from taking more than one seat on their ruling Council and Vacuo was..well, Vacuo. What was tolerated and what was not practically changed with every gang war.

At least Atlas and Mistral didn’t fake that they wanted Faunus to be equal.

And If she was honest, Sienna held no hope whatsoever that Faunus would ever be equal in Mistral. The old Mistralli Empire had been built upon Faunus slave labor, and in some prefectures of the Kingdom that replaced it, there had been numerous cases where the murderers of Faunus had gone free with the simple defense of “They were Faunus”, some had even received apologies from the State for wasting their time over a ‘non-issue’. One of the more isolated prefectures to its North-East had even been caught openly allowing ‘Faunus Hunting’ some forty years after the VPA had been implemented, mocking the very idea of equality.

Atlas, on the other hand….

Part of her, the ever fading remains of the girl she once was, the one that had toiled in the mines and made her home in the dank alleyways of Mantle with the other orphans and street kids smart enough to avoid the foster system..hoped that they would be. Whether that was down to a sense of loyalty to the place of her birth, or the hope in what Atlas promised it was, Sienna couldn’t tell.

But this?

One of the two Captain’s of Civilian Security, the man that routinely called their protests ‘target practice’, the man that was described as ‘racist even by Atlesian standards’, the man that came within a hair’s breadth of becoming head of their military..trying to frame them for an attack on Vytal? To hijack the airship that bore the name of their nation’s founder and mother to do it?!

Unacceptable. Unthinkable. Unconscionable. 

And yet Ghira still thought, still believed to the very core of his being, that they could gain their equality with marching and boycotts and peaceful means. And she had trusted him. Because he was her friend.

But friendship could only go so far..

“You know that this cannot stand, Ghira.” She said quietly, so that only he could hear her. “We cannot just let this go. Atlas cannot be allowed to sweep this under the rug..” The ‘as usual’ went unspoken.

“It is not fair to judge a Kingdom on the actions of a few bad apples, Sienna.” He placed what was likely intended to be a calming hand upon her shoulder. “Have a little faith.” 

“But it isn’t!” Sienna hissed. “It isn’t just a few bad apples Ghira. It’s their whole damn system. The mere fact that someone like this Stirling can rise so high in their Military, and come within a handful of votes from winning the Generalship of their whole military without anyone publicly raising the alarm about his opinions and worldview should be evidence that your ‘peaceful solution’ is little better than doing sweet fuck all!”

“Sienna..”

“..We were promised equality seventy-three years ago!” She exclaimed, cutting him off and drawing a few looks from the Atlesians, but she didn’t care. Years of frustration and anger that had been so diligently stamped down and hidden away in the darker parts of her mind came flooding out at long last, and she had no desire to stop it, no matter how much attention it was drawing to her. “The four Kingdoms guaranteed it in the Vytal Peace Accords! And yet here we stand! Still marching for our Equality. Still protesting for our Equality. Still mistreated for wanting our Equality. Still beaten and stabbed and shot at for wanting our Equality. Still suffering due to a lack of our Equality. Nearly three quarters of a century after we shouldn’t have needed to keep fighting for it…we still fucking are!”

“Enough!” Ghira Belladonna snarled, slipping into his authoritarian voice as easily. “Enough. You may be one of my oldest and dearest friends, Sienna. But please, do not make me pull rank on you. The non-violent route might take longer, but it is the right way to achieve our dream. Buying our equality with the blood of the innocent is not something I want to have to explain to our grandchildren.”

Sienna stared at him in blatant disbelief, before shaking her head.

“...But they’d have their equality, rather than the responsibility of still needing to gain it for their grandchildren. But I am certain they’d be comforted by the fact that you ensured our fight would be ‘fought according to the rules’.” She gave a mocking bow, before stalking off to the main bridge windows to watch what was about to unfold. “Think on that, my friend.”

She had some thinking of her own to do.

_______________

I did not know what I was doing here.

True, I was tapping away at my scroll, documenting everything that was being said and what was being done, just as I had been ordered to. But this was entirely too close to politics than I was comfortable with.

Not just politics. But Politics, with a capital P. International Politics.

From what I could understand, the Vytal International Facility was just off the bay area on the northern coast and contained several global organizations, ranging from the International Criminal Court to the Central Bank on Vytal. The memorial for the Great War was also there, along with various diplomatic offices and the old stadium that hosted the first few Vytal Festivals. There was even a resort on the south coast.

And all of that trivia was utterly worthless at this point in time. So I allowed the various conversations taking place around me to fill my ears, and was soon drawn to the one that General Hawthorn was engaged in.

“There are still members of the Menagerian delegation aboard.” One of the crew pointed out. “A dozen of them.”

“And how many will die if that ship starts bombing Vytal?” Hawthorn fired back. “Absinthe might have given them a warning, but I very much doubt that the various organizations that call that island home will be able to evacuate to the deep forests. A dozen lives against dozens of lives is not a difficult choice at the end of the day.”

And wasn’t that a harsh truth.

“I suppose it’s a good thing that Stirling didn’t become General, elsewise this could have been so much worse.” It took me a few seconds to realize that I had been the one to speak. A few people turned to look at me, and I cleared my throat and addressed General Hawthorn. “In other words, this is not on you, Sir.”

The man let out a sigh, and looked me dead in the eyes. “That is kind of you to say, Archivist. But at the end of the day…all of this is unfolding on my watch. This infiltration happened on my watch. This mutiny is happening on my watch. Even if by some miracle the Council didn’t care, the International Community almost certainly will. I could quite easily stay in my position by force, it is true. But given the methods required to do so, I would likely be held to the same level as Warwick Campbell and Cognus Gelé. Solitas has already had two arch-traitors in the last two centuries and it is already on track for a third with Draco Stirling. I’d rather not make it four.” He smiled a thin, tired smile before continuing. “I have had a fine and respectable career. It would be better to depart with some dignity than none at all. And if my….discharge, honorable or not, means protecting my loyal subordinates from at least some of the blowback, then so be it.”

That…I could understand. From what little I actually know of the man beneath the rank (which admittedly isn’t much.), he was a career soldier, not a career politician. If protecting his men meant sacrificing his career, he’d do it without any hesitation.

“..Understood sir.” Because there was little else I could say. “..Thank you.”

“General?” One of the navigators spoke up. “We are approaching the Island of Vytal. We have just under three minutes before the MV Audumla will be over the Vytal Facility.”

Hawthorn let out a sigh, and gave a nod of acknowledgement. “...Representative Belladonna, I am afraid we are all but out of time. If we don’t act now, it will be too late. I must ask permission to shoot down your vessel.”

Ghira Belladonna…did not answer.

“Representative?” Hawthorn asked again.

“Just fire already General.” It had been Sienna Khan that answered, without removing her gaze from the frontmost windows. “Ghira will never be able to make that call…he evidently lacks the strength to make the necessary decisions.”

Our crew looked at one another for a few moments, before the General broke the silence.

“...We have authorization then.” He intoned, and I watched as Ghira Belladonna's heart visibly sank. “...Gunners, on my mark.”

Silence reigned for a ten second eternity, before General Albus Hawthorn spoke the three words that would end his career.

“Shoot it down.”

Chapter Text

The moment the first volley hit their stolen vessel, Carmine Escaldos knew that her mission was over. The shots had thankfully not blown them all to hell, instead it had fucked up one of the wings, and sent the MV Audumla steadily and smokily heading towards the Island of Vytal at a decidedly diagonal angle.

All that mattered now was getting herself out of the mess she now found herself in. There was little to no point in making a somewhat failed mission into an outright suicidal one.

Plus, it’d be most unfortunate if she were to be captured. That would no doubt mean Bertilak would need to come and rescue her, and Bertie would never let her hear the end of it if that happened.

“We need to depart.”

Her statement drew the attention of the group, and half of Stirling’s followers had begun to advance on her before the man waved them off before turning to question her. “..Go on.” 

“The MV Audumla is a loss, Draco.” She told him, using his first name in a deliberate appeal to him. “There is no reason we need to go down with her. We need to get out so we can regroup with the rest of our allies.”

She watched them now, as Stirling’s followers began to mutter amongst themselves, and privately wondered if Stirling had even told his followers that they ‘had allies’. She supposed it would be something he’d keep close to his chest, but if they were dumb enough to trust and follow him to this juncture, it would’ve been safe for him to do so regardless.

Not that it was going to matter either way.

“What should we do with them ?” One of Stirling’s men, and she didn’t know or care to know his name, asked, gesturing to the faunus still on their knees and under guard.

Before Carmine answered, wicked inspiration struck her as she cast her eyes over the crew. They didn’t look like soldiers. They didn’t act like soldiers. They were just random support staff unlucky enough to still be aboard when Stirling took control of the Audumla .

But they all had stony defiance in their eyes, mixed in with the understandable fear, of course. It would not be right or even fair to deny them their chance to fight for their lives. To simply slaughter them on their knees without letting them earn a worthy death would be a total betrayal of her personal beliefs. 

And more importantly, the beliefs of her people.

And so, with little more than a subtle wave of her hand, Carmine ‘pulled’ the largest of the hostages into the nearest of the guards. The faunus promptly headbutted the man…and the dominoes began to fall. The other faunus followed their comrade in trying to gain their freedom, or at least ensure they didn’t go quietly. 

It was unfortunate that she could not stick around to watch. Unarmed faunus often fought far more primally than humans in the same circumstances, and watching them rip their enemies apart with their bare (or bear) hands was a sight to see.

But time was against her. 

Putting on an authoritative mask, she strode towards the doors to leave the bridge, and gestured for Stirling to follow without waiting to see if he actually did. She fought back a smile as she heard him and a pair of his soldiers followed her.

Precious seconds ticked by as the quartet hurriedly made their way from the bridge to the hangar-bay.

“And how exactly are we supposed to evacuate without a way out?” Stirling demanded.

“Don’t worry.” She answered in a reassuring tone. “I’ve got that covered.”

Before either of his hangers-on could react, Carmine’s sai was sailing out of its sheath at her belt and through their throats, their auras failing in an instant due to the wounds that would claim their lives. Her sai had left only Stirling’s throat unslit, although it remained held against it by an invisible hand.

“What is the meaning of this?!” The man spluttered. “Monkshood?”

“In my defense, this was not precisely what we Asturiaii had hoped for, but it’s a result we can work with nonetheless.”

Stirling had opened his mouth to respond, only to fall silent. As a Captain of the Atlesian Military and Head of Civilian Security, he was aware of all those individuals and organizations that were named enemies of Atlas. As such, he knew that the Asturias Clan ranked close to (if not at) the very top of the list.

“Don’t give me that look.” She chided him. “ I was hoping you’d spark your war, to be honest. War breeds opportunity after all..”

“..So all that… bullshit about..putting those animals in their place..?”

“Was just that. Bullshit. ” She grinned. “The Asturias Clan doesn’t care about the pointless feud between Humanity and Faunuskind. We care about freeing the strong from the shackles of the weak. Freeing them from the obligation to be strong for the weak. Freeing them from the great tyranny that is ‘civilization’. And if a Faunus takes up our beliefs, and holds them close to their heart and soul like the rest of us… why the hell would we turn them away?”

And the Austuriaii would never be so offensively wasteful as to be needlessly discriminatory.

“Honestly.” She sighed as she continued, putting on a faux-chiding tone to her voice. “ How was this plan ever meant to work? The Atlesians are not stupid, yourself and your followers being obvious exceptions. The AVF were always being set up as our patsies, regardless of whether or not this plan succeeded . And now? Now the Greys will get a nice info packet with all the names of agents and locations the AVF operates out of on Solitas and beyond. The four Kingdoms will purge themselves of your influence root and stem. The Anti-Vytal Front will be wiped from the world, unmourned and unloved. All thanks to me…and you.” Carmine told him with a grin, and Stirling mentally cursed both her and himself. 

He had given her all the data he had. Both about the AVF and his role in their future plans, but also about Atlas itself. It had meant to be a stab at his birth nation from beyond the grave if things had gone wrong with his plot… not this.  

“Was having an escape bullshit too?”

“I meant I have my escape spoken for.” She told him as she strolled over to the button that would open the hangar bay doors. “Not yours. Your now former hostages will provide me with an appropriate distraction, whether or not they or your men survive wasn’t actually ever a concern of mine.”

When she pushed the button, and the world outside was revealed to her, the Austuriaii woman let out a breath as quick calculations ran through her head. If she was right, they had less than a minute before impact.

It really was time to go.

Before she could take her leap to freedom, Stirling’s voice stopped her. “I’ll tell them that you mad bastards are involved.”

She didn’t even bother to hide her eye-roll at that. What an arrogant bastard.

“Oh? And why in Remnant’s name would they ever take a traitor’s word for it? Do try not to die before your trial, Draco.” Carmine gave him a mocking salute, as her sai sailed through the air again, returning to its sheath. “I hope to be watching it with my good friends, popcorn and wine.”

And without another word, Carmine Esclados stepped out of the hangar-bay, and into the open air below.

Barely ten seconds later, the MV Audumla plowed into the north coast of the island of Vytal. And everything went black for the mutinous Captain of Atlesian Civilian Security.

Chapter Text

As a boy, James Ironwood had had a fascination with airships.

Those great, gleaning vessels that claimed the skies themselves as their own. Traveling boldly across the world and connecting people like nothing else before (save perhaps the CCTS). Commanded by anyone capable enough to do so, not just the children of old military dynasties and rich business leaders wealthy enough to just buy their brats commissions. The idea for the Military to be rid of the practice back 4AW with the Cardwell Military Reforms had even originated from the fleet!

For someone that grew up in the complete mess that was the Atlesian foster care system, airships of all stripes represented the ultimate level of freedom. And it had been that dream of freedom that had driven him to join the Military and the Airfleet shortly after he turned sixteen. He’d been living in a car that was older than he was at the time, and held together by rust and industrial strength tape.

 He could have the freedom he craved, whilst serving the nation he called home. He’d traveled across Remnant, proudly wearing the Green of the Fleet whilst carrying out missions.

The day he’d been granted command of a ship had been one of the happiest days of his life. His Dauntless might well be the same as the rest of her class, but the Creed of an Airship Commander rang true:

“This is my airship. There are many like it but this one is mine.”

He knew it was a common attitude amongst commanders. Even Hawthorn was pretty clear that he only led from the Pride of Solitas when he absolutely had to. The elder man much preferred his Sentinel. And he was the one in charge of the whole blasted Military.

And now, thanks to a small group of traitorous officers, his mentor’s career was almost certainly over. Never again would Albus Hawthorn command the airship that had been his for his entire time in a command role. Never again would his crew be commanded by the man that they had all come to respect and trust implicitly.

So it was that he forced a mask of emotionlessness onto his face as he led a strike team into what could only be described as the wreck of the Audumla. The sails were still ablaze, the decorative wooden outer hull was charred and falling away, and the lights within the vessel itself feebly flickered as the internal systems desperately tried to stay online.

The Menagerian part of the strike team would search for survivors of their own contingent whilst his group would detain any traitors that remained alive. Although their priority was of course the man that had led the entire mess.

In ordinary circumstances, he would not have been part of the team entering the wreck. An Airfleet Captain would usually have no place in a field combat mission aside from providing air support. Normally this operation would be the duty of the Blues. However, these were not ordinary circumstances. One of the Board of Captains had turned traitor, and it would not do for Atlas to respond with anything less than a very clear statement of their displeasure.

A loyal Captain would bring in a traitorous one.

He’d even insisted on taking an Archivist along with them to ensure a proper record. Thankfully, Captain Glover had inadvertently brought an Archivist James himself actually trusted with him. 

Casper Schwartz had kept up with the rest of their half of the team, even if his eyes were on his datapad as he recorded everything that surrounded them.

It was as they reached the hangar-bay, or whatever was left of it, that their 

“Sir!” The voice of one of his team, Specialist Viktors, caught the attention of the rest of them. “We’ve got him.”

As the other members of the team approached their loyal colleague. None of them failed to notice the fact that there were a pair of bodies nearby, although their cause of death was hard to discern from just a look.

Stirling himself was a mess. One side of his face was burned, and his clothes weren’t much better. His left arm was quite obviously broken and held at a wholly unnatural angle. By some cruel miracle, despite obvious aura exhaustion, the man was still conscious.

“Ironwood!” He let out a wheezing bark. “Don’t just stand there man! We need to go after-”

“We?”  Ironwood questioned as he approached the downed man. “There is no ‘we’ Draco. You and your fellow traitors stand alone. Atlas has disowned you. Vytal has been alerted to your treason. By now, the whole world knows what you are. It’s over. Surrender whilst you still have some semblance of dignity left.”

“How dare you!” The man seethed. “Everything we’re doing is for the betterment and benefit of Atlas! Of our Kingdom! To stand against us is to stand against Atlas’ destiny!”

“..and Atlas proudly disagrees with your twisted idea of our ‘destiny’!” Ironwood barked, pointedly ignoring his colleague’s protests. “And as such, it gives me immense pleasure to inform you that you, Draco Stirling, are under arrest for high treason, the hijacking of the MV Audumla, the kidnap of its crew and the murder of many of their number, warmongering without the blessing of the Board of Captains, conduct unbecoming of an officer…” He looked the older man up and down, with his charred and torn clothing and smiled a razor thin smile. “...And for keeping an untidy uniform.”

The disgraced Captain hauled himself up to his feet, and stumbled towards the group. His broken left arm swung at his side even as he was spitting out threats. It was, however, beyond clear that he was aware of the reality of his position. In all likelihood, this defiance was an attempt at dying as a soldier and not a traitor. He raised his hand to grasp at one of the team..

…Only to be slammed into the bulkhead by a wall of shimmering gray light.

Everyone in the loading bay turned to see Schwartz, unassuming and bookish Archivist Schwartz, his arms still thrust forwards and his face contorted with a mix of utter contempt and total concentration.“Someone might want to get the traitorous git into cuffs. Not sure how long PRIDWEN can keep him pinned.”

The medic attached to the team nudged Draco with his foot, before turning back to address them all. “Doesn’t look like pinning him down is necessary anymore Archivist. He’s out cold.”

“Get him in cuffs first anyway.” Ironwood ordered. “We’re taking no chances.”

It was Viktors that cuffed him, taking more care with the man’s broken arm than many in his situation would. It was only when the man gave the affirmative that Schwartz flexed his fingers and withdrew his arms, causing the Light-Shield pinning his foe down to vanish.. “Thank you kindly.”

Viktors gave a nod, and hefted Stirling onto one shoulder.

“That was some quick thinking of you, Archivist.” James commented as the pair watched Viktors hauled the traitor off. “Not many Archivists would be willing to assault an enemy like that.”

“Well, the bastard did keep saying that he wanted my semblance.” Schwartz grinned, almost too cheerfully for the situation. “Figured I ought to give the soon-to-be former Captain what he’s wanted for the last few years.” 

Ironwood glanced after the former Captain of Civilian Security, and he did the only suitable thing given the situation.

He just started to laugh.

In hindsight, calling their walk from school to the Military Archives their ‘first adventure’ might be stretching things a tad, but for a pair of ten year olds such as them, it was a fine enough place to start in Mercury’s opinion.

His new friend, it turned out, also had a father currently serving within the Military. Not with the Airfleet, but the Archives. An important job, albeit one that did not seem as grand or fun as the Airfleet.

The similarities continued, for Cinder Schwartz’s father had adopted her. But that was where the pair differed. Whilst her father had adopted her and she had taken to that fact with gusto, James Ironwood was not his father. Not yet. And it made him a tad envious that a fellow adoptee had come to love her new father so quickly. But as soon as those thoughts entered his mind, they were soon quashed by the reminder that Cinder had been with her father for what amounted to half of her life.

In time, he hoped his opinion would change. Being Mercury Ironwood was considerably less painful than being Mercury Black ever was.

“Come on Merc!” Cinder called out to him, still smiling her cheerful smile that hardly ever left her face. “We’re nearly there!”

Mercury smiled to himself.

One adventure down, the Brothers only knew how many to go. 

Chapter Text

They were not gentle in the slightest with Draco Stirling as they dragged him and his surviving four soldiers back to the Dauntless. It would honestly not surprise me if the only thing preventing the bunch of traitors from being ‘accidentally’ dumped into every door frame was down to sheer professionalism. 

None of them had been in a good way, and there was one that was almost certainly going to be dead by the time we got back to Atlas proper. And if I am honest, I cannot bring myself to care about that much. People that try to spark a race war simply for the sake of feeling big aren’t worth wasting care on.

Thankfully, there were survivors of the Audumla ’s crew. In fact, the majority of them had survived, albeit not without serious injuries. One of the crew, a swan Faunus that had insisted on the medical personnel seeing to his colleagues first, had lost one of his wings. Another had lost an eye and at least four others had sustained severe burns. But they were alive.

They were under guard, although somewhat understandably it was the Menagerian contingent that took up that duty. Even with the assurances of General Hawthorn that they’d be safe, not even Ghira had faith in that promise. The traitors were of course under our own guard, with Team NYYT taking the lead. It was slightly unnerving that the team that I had known as students and trusted with Cinder on occasion was under explicit orders to ‘put down’ any traitor that tried to escape with ‘as much prejudice as was necessary’, but I supposed that they were specialists now. It was technically part of their duties to kill if need be.

In the meantime, I had opted to find a desk on the bridge and start writing up reports. Taking notes might well be enough during a given mission, but those notes didn’t constitute a report in and of themselves. Besides, we had a long journey back to Atlas so I might as well get a headstart on it-

“Archivist Schwartz.”

My train of thought came to a halt as I looked up to see the face of Sienna Khan, an expression of utter calm on her face. Whether it was due to being at the high point of her ire or just down to being completely done with everything, I honestly couldn’t tell.

“..Representative Khan? Is there something I can do for you?”

“Ghira appears to trust you, or at least trusts you not to bullshit him. I cannot entirely tell which. And your bosses appear to have a similar view of you, given the fact that it is just yourself and Captain Glover from the Archives here. So tell me here and now, what will Stirling’s punishment be for this…farce?”

“If I were to guess, it’ll probably be a firing squad or the gallows.” I shrug. “Although in the interest of honesty, I am in no way an expert on the intricacies of Atlesian Military and Civil Law. Treason isn’t exactly an everyday crime, after all.”

“It’s unlikely to be a firing squad Schwartz.” Glover chimed in as he approached. “That’s for soldiers. Stirling and his lot have been officially dishonorably discharged. Any of his surviving men will probably be offered to you to do with as you please. Stirling himself will probably be exiled to the White Sea.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a punishment.” Sienna observed.

“It’s mainly down to tradition.” Glover shrugged. “Treasonous army Captains and military officers were exiled to the White Sea during the Empty Throne days, and it’s still on the books as a valid punishment now. We did it to Warwick Campbell. We did it to Cognus Géle, despite his best efforts. It may seem like a mercy, Representative Khan, but to Atlesian eyes it is the ultimate disgrace. A final humiliation, as though they aren’t worth wasting a bullet or a blade on. You get dumped out there, no weapons or warm clothes…only a few day’s worth of rations, a thin blanket and a nights worth of firewood.,,,and are simply left for the Sea to claim you.”

“Tradition has it that the White Sea is too cold for even the Grimm to exist, and nothing that Atlas has seen on either scouting missions or on our sensors has disproved that..”  It was my turn to answer. Admittedly, nothing Atlas had seen had proven the tradition to be true, but was not really relevant. “It might seem convoluted, Representative Khan. But it’s just the way things are done with regards to traitors.”

Sienna snorted. “It’d be far easier to just shoot him. Safer too, given you can ensure he’s actually dead..not at risk of being rescued by loyalists.” The unspoken ‘ because of course he has loyalists ’ remained thankfully unsaid.

Glover merely inclined his head. “Maybe so, Representative Khan. However, if we just shot the man we would be showing that we are afraid to let him have his day in Court. That we are afraid of what he has to say. Let the man scream and rave and rant, he’s damned no matter what..and can be used as a very real example of why such rhetoric, the rhetoric of the lunatics in the Anti-Vytal Front, is not only a relic of the past, but is and was wrong. ”

“Plus..” I continued for my boss. “You have the pleasure of knowing that the racist bastard will die cold and alone, hungry and scared and forgotten.”

Sienna Khan held my gaze for a few seconds, before firing off one last comment before striding off to her fellow Menagerians. “..He’d better, Archivist.”

“She’s quite the formidable woman, isn’t she?” Glover commented once she was a safe enough distance away. “Ghira Belladonna might have an issue on his hands if she tries to dislodge him as Designated Successor.”

“You think she’d fuck things up on Menagerie like that?” I asked.

“I think that’s all a problem for another day, Schwartz.” Glover answered, before clapping his hands. “Moving on, there is an upside to all this bullshit today.”

I raised an eyebrow at Glover’s statement. “We averted a second Great War?” 

“There is that.” My boss conceded. “But Stirling was the one that denied you a commendation for your actions during the Paladin Incident in a bout of his usual breed of pettiness. It’s likely you’ll actually get it now. If not another one for your quick thinking today.”

That, and I’d made Ironwood laugh. That was surely an achievement in and of itself. But the thought of finally getting at least some recognition was… nice. It frankly hadn’t bothered me in the slightest that I’d been denied official recognition of my actions that day, but everyone likes to be acknowledged every now and then.

“ Unfortunately. ” Glover continued, swiftly crushing my good time. “There is one issue we’ve yet to contend with. And it’s going to be hell.”

I glanced over to him, and could only groan as it dawned on me what he meant. “..Just say it.”

“...There’s going to be a fuck load of paperwork for all this. Not just reports, but expenses and requisitions, we’ll have to replace the Audumla for Menagerie and YAMATO won’t make it cheap, then of course there’s all the hours of diplomatic meetings that will be almost entirely one sided...”

“So in other words..?”

Glover gave a grim smile. “In other words, I have a feeling we’re about to make the local coffee shops very happy…and a lot of caffeine addicted students very un happy.”

….Joy.

It was already early in the evening by the time the Dauntless arrived back in Atlas and I could actually get away. I made a beeline straight for the Archives. One of my colleagues pinged me a note on my scroll to inform me that Cinder was there.

When I got there, I found a few people still at their desks. The Archives operated a skeleton crew to service the overnight shift, but they had yet to arrive. I headed to my office, and soon found myself face to face with the most important person in my life.

“Hey Cinder.”

“Hey Dad!” She replied, a chipper smile on her face.

“Sorry I’m so late.” Because what else was there to say? “Work was…busier than I had anticipated.”

My sweet and wonderful daughter merely kept smiling. “It’s no biggie, Dad. Merc and I just got on with our homework. Ms Aquari let us in and let us know what was going on. You stopped the bad guys, right Dad?”

“Something like that.” And now I owe Aquari one. Is she the one that likes Valean Ale? It was at that moment that I noticed that Cinder wasn’t alone. Mercury was quiet, hanging back from the both of us. Nothing like the asshole of an assassin he’d grow up to be in..different circumstances. “You’ve got company, I see.”

“Oh!” She scampered over to Mercury, and all but dragged him over to meet me. “This is Merc.”

…Nicknames already?

“...It’s Mercury actually, Miss Schwartz.” A familiar voice from behind me corrected her. James Ironwood approached us, a small smile adorning his face. He walked right up to his adopted son, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “...I trust you both kept out of trouble?”

Mercury gave a nod as an affirmative. “We found a quiet corner and did our homework. Ms Aquari let us use the machine to make ourselves hot chocolate.”

“Good to hear.” Ironwood’s eyes were full of restrained pride as he spoke with his son, before turning his gaze first to Cinder, who merely shot him her usual sunny smile, and then to me.

“...Do remember to get some rest, Schwartz.” Ironwood said after a few moments of silence. “I think we’ll be very busy in the coming days.”

“Likewise sir.” I replied with a smile of my own and a salute that bordered on casual, and turned to head off. “Come on Cinder. Let’s go. I’m tired and want to just slump on the sofa, so we’ll do NoodleHouse for dinner. Sounds good?”

She nodded a few times, before turning around and giving a wave to her new friend. “G’bye Merc! See you tomorrow!”

An oddly inspired look crossed the boy’s face for all of a moment, before giving way for a somewhat cheeky smile as he returned the gesture.

“See you tomorrow Cin!”

Chapter Text

The next few weeks were frankly a blur.

Firstly was the very swift trial of Stirling and his conspirators. As Glover had predicted, the man had screamed and ranted and raved, spouting off such an amount of racist bullshit and traitorous rhetoric that he all but condemned himself with words alone. His four remaining men had tried to pull the ‘just following orders’ excuse, but when that failed they had opted to merely remain silent. They had all unsurprisingly been found guilty on all charges. The former soldiers were handed off to Menagerie to deal with as they saw fit as a gesture of goodwill. Stirling himself had been sentenced to an exile to the White Sea. 

His attitude had done a complete 180, and he had been begging to be shot as he’d been dragged out of the courtroom. Begging to die a soldier, not a traitor. This request was ignored, and he had been dumped out in the White Sea at dawn the following day.

Then came the negotiations. It came to the surprise of absolutely no one that Menagerie wrung out as many concessions as was possible. Atlas would fund, build and hook up a CCT Tower on Menagerie. In addition, Atlas would pay in full for a replacement for the MV Audumla along with two more vessels of the same class from YAMATO Shipyards, and the restrictions on Menagerian goods going into Atlas and Atlesian goods going into Menagerie were scrapped entirely.

Menagerie didn’t get the discriminatory laws (or rather, the laws that permitted companies to be discriminatory) off of Atlas’ books, nor did they get to set up an embassy on Solitas or receive Atlesian backing for a Huntsfolk Academy on Menagerie, but a victory was a victory. Despite the cost. Sienna Khan had apparently pushed for more, but Ghira had agreed to what was offered regardless, so as not to push too far and get nothing in return.

The atmosphere between the two of them was still positively frigid even as they departed on a donated Atlesian Airship, a temporary replacement for the Audumla until YAMATO finished the trio of ships bound for Kuo Kuana. They left a few days earlier than originally intended, but apparently there was something that had happened in Menagerie that required them back as soon as possible to deal with it. From the looks on the faces of their entire delegation, a mix of ashen and furious expressions, it was likely yet another disaster. Yet another crack in the relationship between Ghira and Sienna. Yet another step towards the White Fang losing hope and belief in a bloodless path to equality.

And now, after weeks of near constant paperwork and more takeout than was strictly healthy, when my timetable was finally calming down to reasonable levels… Ironwood asked to see me entirely out of the blue.

His office was pretty spartan for a member of the Board of Captains. A few shelves for files, a desk with an inbuilt screen and keyboard and a couple of chairs for guests. In fact, the only bit of anything not tailored exclusively to efficiency and not comfort or ostentation appeared to be the black leather chair Ironwood himself sat in.

“Good, you’re here.” He said as I entered his office and gave a salute. “Take a seat, Archivist Schwartz.”

As I settled into one of the spare chairs, my host leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes for a few moments. After taking his moment of contemplation, he opened them again and began to speak.

“I am going to be chosen as the next General of the Atlesian Military.” Ironwood began, a statement of fact rather than a confident boast. “Half of the captains on the board are coming up to either retirement or have opted to take ‘early’ retirement, half of the remainder don’t want to be the one to deal with the inevitable series of shitstorms that are heading our way…and the rest are under investigation for their links to the disgraced former Captain Stirling. And whilst Zinnia Hague is standing as a candidate, she is only doing so to prevent a potentially distasteful situation where a General is elected unopposed and honestly does not wish for the position.”

“Do you, sir?”

“Not particularly, if I am being truthful. But someone needs to take on the burden, and it seems like that someone will be me.” He paused again, and shook his head once. “But that is not why I have called you here. I have a request for you, Schwartz.” 

“I’m listening, Sir.”

“Gwendolyn Dewne, the Professor of History at the Atlas Academy has announced that she will be retiring at the end of the school year. And if the rumors are true, Headmistress Arnold won’t be too far behind her. She’s had something of a falling out with the other Headmaster’s, apparently.”

Not quite sure where he’s going with this.

“...I would ask that you to apply for Dewne’s position, Schwartz.” Ironwood said. “I want you to be the next History Professor of Atlas Academy.”

Oh. Oh shit.

“..You do understand that I have no background in education, yes?” At his nod, I sighed as I continued.“...Then may I ask why you are coming to me with this request, Sir?”

“Because I need people I can trust, Schwartz.” Ironwood replied. “Trust in the Atlesian Military, both internally and internationally, has understandably nosedived. I will need to rebuild it. And since the General of the Military is in charge of the Academy until a new Headteacher is selected, it’ll be down to me to replace Professor Dewne if and when Absinthe steps down. From what I know of you, you are reliable and hardworking, and a quick learner. You try exceedingly hard to remain apolitical and loathe racist and discriminatory policies and opinions. You have spent seven years in the Archives with access to historical records, and according to Royce Glover you have a particular interest in history.”

All true.

“And whilst I am aware you are not the type of person that it will truly matter to, I feel I should mention that the pay for even a non-field role such as Professor of History is… generous, to say the least.”

That…is uncomfortably tempting. The Archives do pay, but it’s not a staggering amount. 19000Ⱡ a month is enough to pay the bills and save a little, but..

I could move out of my Shoebox Apartment. I could have an actual office at home and not just jammed into a corner of our Kitchen-Lounge. Cinder could have friends over. I could even have a garden. I haven’t had a garden since I moved out of-..

Fuck. I’m going to have to do this, aren’t I? And not for principle or honor or any higher ideal like that. But for fucking Lien.

“May I have some time to think it over, Sir?”

“I can give you a week.” Ironwood replied. “After that, I will need your answer…or I’ll need to find someone else.”

“Thank you Sir.” I answered, and stood up and gave him a salute. “For your time, and your offer.”

I strode over and halted and the door, and turned to face Ironwood once more,

“Sir, in my experience the people that do not wish for a certain job or duty, are usually the ones that do that job or duty right if called to do so.” I smiled. “So in short…, regardless of what I choose…I’ve got your back, General Ironwood.”

The man blinked, before breaking out into a smile. 

“I appreciate it, Schwartz.”

Officially, Facility 19 did not exist. The official reason for this was that the original founders of the Atlesian Military were a superstitious lot and 19 was considered a particularly unlucky number, so they skipped straight from 18 to 20. It was a common jape within the Military, and considered a fun and harmless joke within the ranks.

Unofficially, Facility 19 was very real. It was a joint venture between the Reds, Teals and Whites. The Engineering, Science and Medical Corps. It was a gathering of the brightest and boldest minds the Military had, all to ensure the safety and security of Atlas. Located in an industrial complex on the outskirts of Mantle, it was the birthplace of the Paladin Project, the Atlesian Knights and most of Lieutenant Watts’ projects.

In a small office in one of the buildings within the complex, a meeting was taking place. A dozen people were crammed into the room, with one man standing in front of the rest. Albus Hawthorn, General of the Atlesian Military looked exhausted but still wore a faint smile on his face.

“Change is coming, ladies and gentlemen.” Albus addressed the group. “James Ironwood intends a wholesale reform of the Military, the biggest since the late 20’s, so as to avoid the foul rot of both corruption and infiltration that this sad episode has revealed.”

There was a rumble of agreements from the others in the room. None of the people in the room looked remotely happy about the fact their colleague was being forced to retire in the manner he was, but all respected his choice to do so.

“...Pietro.” Albus addressed one of the group. “My last official act as General of the Atlesian Military was to secure your funding. It’ll be in the old Glaesii account. You should have enough Lien to see out your dream, but I would suggest getting James on board as soon as you are able. He’s a good man, principled and reasonable. He’d almost certainly be interested in giving you his support in your endeavor.”

“So we may continue with our work?” The man’s words sent a ripple of hushed, excited murmurings around the office.

“Yes my friend. The PENNY Project is safe.”

Chapter Text

As he watched an airship come into land within Atlesian Military Headquarters, the only thought in Albus Hawthorn’s head was of endings. It was his second-to-last day in his role as General of the Atlesian Military, and he was spending it on what was an unofficial duty. His paperwork was done, his records accounted for, most of his goodbyes had been said and his clearance codes were now officially on a timer.

His only responsibilities left were to his other allegiance, the Inner Circle Sanctuary. Whilst he would stay on as an advisor and wealth of knowledge for the Inner Circle, just as his colleague Fiona Moss had, he did need a replacement within the Military so that the ICS had eyes and ears within it. To that end, he’d been grooming his protegé for this for quite some time. James Ironwood would bring fresh eyes and fresh ideas to the group, and things would continue on as ever.

He let out a sigh, and watched as a lone figure approached, cane in hand.

“Albus.” Ozpin inclined his head as he arrived, and extended a hand. “It is good to see you my friend, even under such unfortunate circumstances.”

“Oliver, thank you for coming all this way.” He greeted the Headmaster of Beacon as he clasped the man’s hand.   “...I am sorry for all this. But with my retirement, our schedule needs to be moved up.”

“It is no trouble.” Ozpin told him. “It gets me out and about. And I’d like to meet this replacement of yours face-to-face.”

The two men proceeded to make their way to Hawthorn’s office, engaging in a laid back, but nonetheless private conversation along the way. They chatted out how things were in their respective Kingdoms, how the members of the Inner Circle were, and even if there was any news on her movements. Then Hawthorn inquired as to who was running the show back in Beacon if its Headmaster was here in Atlas..

“I left my new deputy in charge.” Ozpin replied. “It is a weekend, and provided I am back before our weekly meeting on Monday, the Council will not care to ask questions.”

Hawthorn let out a laugh. “Ah, that’d be your Glynda. A talented huntress, I heard. Part of Team FGNS too, yes? What kind of name is ‘Fuliginous’ anyway?”

“You try and find a workable name with those letters.” Ozpin retorted goodnaturedly. “But yes. Glynda is indeed talented, plus loyal and intelligent. A good guide for my students.”

“Is she one of ours?”

“She is. Both Her and Shion Zaiden were recruited from that Team. Falkirk and Nessie proved too mercenary for…this side of things.” Ozpin didn’t elaborate further, so Hawthorn didn’t press. “What of your secret project?”

“It’s still in operation. I’ll be handing the reins of it over to James tomorrow upon his promotion.” The election for the Generalship hadn’t actually taken place yet, but the outcome had already been decided. Half of the Captains had stated their intention to vote for him before they retired, and half of the remainder had stated their intent to abstain. It wasn’t going to be unanimous, but it was the required majority. “He’ll have a lot on his plate, depending on what Headmistress Arnold does.”

“Is there any news on Absinthe?” Ozpin asked. “I haven’t heard anything from her. Do you think she would be willing to stay?”

Hawthorn shook his head. “I very much doubt it. She’s been in her position for five years, Oliver. In that time she’s faced an assassination attempt due to who her husband is, the Paladin Incident, all this bullshit with Stirling..not to mention everything she’s done for us. And she’s only now learning about Sanctuary? We’re not only recruiting James Ironwood today but giving him full disclosure as well, but it took her half a decade to get that.”

“..I see. It was an error on my part to push her as far as I did.” “It seems that my caution turned to paranoia in this instance. Pity.”

“I believe I can convince her to stay on as Headmistress through next year, and end her tenure on a high with a Vytal Festival at home. Beyond that, I cannot guarantee anything.” Hawthorn told him. “Aside from the fact she’ll keep our secrets, of course.”

“That will suffice for me then.”

The pair remained silent as they approached Hawthorn’s office. Ironwood was already there, and standing at ease by the door. He saluted as he saw the both of them approach.

“...Sir.”

“Captain. Thank you for coming.” Hawthorn spoke as he ushered the other men inside. “In case you’ve not met yet, this is Oliver Ozpin. He’s the Headmaster of Beacon Academy, and an old friend of mine.”

Dutiful as ever, Ironwood first saluted, and then extended a hand to him. “I do not believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

“...James Ironwood.” Ozpin smiled his genial smile and shook Ironwood’s hand. “It is good to meet you. We have things to discuss.”

Ironwood glanced at Hawthorn, who merely gave a nod. The younger man turned to Ozpin, an expectant look on his face. “I’m listening, sir.”

“First things first though.” Ozpin smiled. “I have an odd question for you..”

“...What’s your favorite Fairy Tale?”

The SDC Headquarters was the second tallest building in the Kingdom of Atlas, and the tallest if one barred both governmental and military facilities. It was designed by a team of the finest architects Remnant had, and it had taken a decade to build. A shining tower of glass overlooking the rest of the city. 

The Director’s Suite was located near the top floor. A single long table occupied the middle of the room, made of expensive blackwood from the mountain ranges of north Mistral. With nine chairs of a deep royal blue emblazoned with the white snowflake sigil of the Schnee family on their headrests surrounding it, the furniture in the room alone was likely worth more than most people made in a decade.

Jacques Schnee, the CEO of Schnee Dust Company & Affiliated Holdings and rumored to be Remnant’s richest man, calmly sat at the head of the table and drank his coffee. The eight branch Director’s were arguing and shouting at each other, and his ire was steadily growing with each passing minute. None of them liked a problem they couldn’t throw lien at to solve, although most of them were usually smart enough to find a legal way around it.

Clark was the only person in the room not sitting down, and was the only person in the room that had his complete trust. The only person in the world that had his complete trust. True, the presence of a Faunus in such a position garnered some sneering from the Old Money Families, but Jacques didn’t care. If he needed something done, regardless of legality or difficulty or morality and without questions…Clark was there.

And so he let the argument wash over him and fill his ears. Whilst he would never let it show on his face, Jacques enjoyed picking apart the arguments of the various Directors.

“-should protest this to the Court on Vytal-” And the Court on Vytal would say that the Treaty was perfectly legal, and Corporations had no place dictating global politics just because they were wealthy monopolies and that the world was not in fact a corpocracy, no matter how vital they were to the running of the modern world.

“-et Councilor Oracion to veto it. She’s practically in our pock-” Anyone that thought they could puppet Lethe Oracion was deluding themselves. The ‘Familial Estates’ knew what they were doing electing her to the Atlesian Ruling Council. Behind her carefully manicured hands, flawless skin and dyed hair lay a razor sharp political mind.

“-ow Kruger-Caldari is willing to go along with this farce is beyond me!” The reason was fairly obvious to Jacques’ mind. Kruger-Caldari was a technologies and communications monolith from Argus (it was almost certainly more accurate to call them the Tech and Communications monolith given their monopoly in the field), and their getting the contract to build Menagerie’s CCT Tower would almost certainly make them a great deal of lien in the long run. They were the ones that had pioneered Scroll technology, and were the only ones that could legally repair the various relay towers across Remnant, and it had been them that had figured out how to ensure that the loss of a single relay tower would not bring the whole system down.

“-should just ignore this Treaty.”

“...Enough.”

The single word from their boss was enough to silence the room. Jacques allowed the silence to drag on for nearly a full minute before he spoke again. “You all comprehend why no Government or legal body has intervened with how we do things, I trust?”

Jacques cast his gaze over those around the table, all of whom remained silent, and tented his fingers before continuing. “It is not down to bribes. It is not down to blackmail. It is because everything we do, every move and decision we take has been checked and double checked and triple checked by our legal department to ensure its total, undeniable legality. No Government intervenes because they have no legal reason or way to do so. And despite this… your collective opinion on how to deal with our present situation appears to be the abandonment of the guiding principle that has made us the largest and wealthiest business empire in recorded history?”

It was the Director of their Southern Mistralli operations that spoke up. “With respect, Mr Schnee. But part of this Treaty would involve us not overcharging Menagerie for the dust they order. As a chunk of our profits in that area come from-

“Shall I tell you what I see?” Jacques interrupted the man, simultaneously impressed and unimpressed with him. He had spoken up, but it was only to moan about the small picture/. “I see the restrictions that were placed upon us and other Companies like ours, restrictions that were preventing us from doing business on Menagerie for fear that we’d eclipse local businesses, now removed in their entirety . I see the chance to stake new claims on new mines. I see the chance to build up new branch offices and finally expand our customer base to every corner of Remnant.”

It was obvious that most of the people in the room were filled with varying degrees of uncertainty simply from the looks on their faces. It was disappointing, but not exactly unexpected. The Directors were used to effectively ruling their area of operations as petty kings, and rarely cared about the bigger picture. That would need to change, or they would need to find new jobs.

“It is true that we’d need to pay any Menagerian citizen the same as we would a human elsewhere.” He conceded. “But as we already adhere to the local laws of other nations, like how our Mistralli operations pay those from the south and more traditionally Mistralli territories more than we do those from the north and Pellan Coast for example, this is nothing all that unusual for us. We are not required to improve the conditions in our mines in any of the Four Kingdoms, nor are we required to pay our Faunus employees more across the board. If it gets us access to this last part of the world, I am willing to shell out a little more Lien to see it finally done at last. Let that be the final word of it.”

There was a murmuring of acknowledgement across the room, and one by one the Director’s started to leave the room.

“Clark?” Jacques spoke aloud, only after he was certain that the Directors were gone.

“Yes, sir?”

“Start vetting our higher ups. I want the Director of Operations of SDC Menagerie to not be someone booted out after a week for offending the local Government.”

The goat Faunus gave a single nod. “Understood sir. It will be on your desk first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Dependable as ever, Clark.”

I had made my decision.

It had taken time to do so. Indeed, it was now the very last day before the offer was off the table, and I was only now on my way to Ironwood’s office. I had initially considered declining, but it was only after a talk with Glover that I eventually made up my mind.

I had gone to his office to discuss the offer, asking him outright if it was right to take the job when my main motivation wasn’t the joy of education, but the pay.

His answer was not what I had expected:

“‘Course it bloody is.”

I blinked. “Really?”

The old man let out a laugh. “You joined up because you needed money, remember? True, it’s down to that ‘lost history’ of yours, but you still joined up for the money. But the real question is, do you really want to be stuck in here for your entire career? The Archives aren’t exactly known for their possible progression paths after all. It isn’t wrong to want more from life, Casper. So don’t you dare feel bad about it.”

I nodded slowly as my thoughts coalesced. It was true that I was only in the military because I needed money, but that was because it was a sure thing. They always needed extra hands. Always. “..Fair points, sir.”

Glover looked at me, a knowing twinkle in his eyes. “Made up your mind then?”

“I think so.”

“Good. I don’t know what the future will hold, so you damn well listen and take this as an order, Schwartz.” He grinned at me. “Get the hell outta here already, and drill some sense in those kids' heads.”

I snapped out of the memory as I arrived in front of Ironwood’s office. I took a calming breath, and knocked on the door. Eventually, after a long pause, the door opened. James Ironwood looked at me with slight confusion, before schooling his expression back down to its typical neutrality.

“Can I help you, Archivist Schwartz?”

“...I accept your offer, Sir.” I said, conviction filling my words. “I will be your History Professor.”

Ironwood let out a sigh, and gave a chuckle. “That’s probably the best news I’ve heard all day. Thank you, Schwartz.”

I grinned. “Long one, sir?”

“You have no idea.”

Chapter Text

December, 73AW:.

Hello Neighbour!

As usual, Epsilon Heights will be hosting a little get together to celebrate Year's End, and to watch the various firework displays. Food and hot drinks will be provided. Also as usual, there is to be no alcohol.

 - Winston

________

April, 74AW.

It had been barely a week after her seventeenth birthday when she had packed her bags and left the only home she'd ever known, but in Saphron Arc's opinion it was worth it. Argus was a damn pleasant place to live and work. High standard of living, a decent enough living wage even working part-time so she could attend university (although that could be down to her being employed by Kruger-Caldari), and despite only having lived there for barely two months, she'd already grown fond of the slight salty tang of sea air.

Argus was known for a number of things. It was home to the Headquarters of her employers, Kruger-Caldari Technologies & Telecommunications as well as their main development and production facilities. Panacea International had its Mistralli Headquarters in the City, and the main feeder school for the Pellan Coast (Sanctum Academy) was located within the city's famed and 'impregnable' walls. Clymene Base, Atlas' biggest military complex outside of Solitas was also located in the city, out on an island from which it took its name in the bay.

And then there was the University of Pella. The only remaining institution in any of the five Pellan cities from before Imperial Mistral (under the Gens Sima) finally permanently conquered the cities of the Pellan Coast some two hundred years prior to the Great War. If you believed its own boasting, it was the finest place of learning in the world, with a campus that rivaled Sanctum in size and a curriculum that put even the Universities in the Capitals of the world to shame.

Was it any wonder that she'd chosen to go here to study law, rather than stay in Vale?

But it was neither lectures nor work that called her out into the city today. Every two weeks, she would drive into the city and go on a 'supply run' for food, fuel and anything else she needed for the next fortnight or so. However on this occasion, she had to swing by the University to swap some books, and it was for this reason alone that she found herself surrounded by a crowd of protesting students. Most of them were wearing some sort of face mask, and more than a few held up signs. In the corner of each was a symbol consisting of five blue stars, arranged in the way the five Pellan cities were on the map, and were surrounded by a ring of chains (again in blue) that were shattering from the bottom. Beneath that, in a bold black script were the words:

'FREE CITIES MOVEMENT'

She had known that the people of the Pellan Coast were pretty distinct from the Mistralli heartland, at least on a cultural level, and a decent chunk of the population would vote to go independent of Mistral should they ever get the chance. Not that the central government would ever let them have said vote, of course, which only led to the resentment for any past grievances to grow and fester. The Brothers knew that there had been some degree of frigidness towards her and her Valean heritage for the first few weeks, the memory of Oswald the Last 'selling' his wartime ally back to Mistral still stung even now, nearly three-quarters of a century later.

So it was with unashamed curiosity that she got out of her car and went to investigate, and was soon surrounded by people. Vale very rarely had protests, Domremy had even less. Indeed, she could only remember one protest happening in her home and that was over mining or working conditions…not something as internationally important as this..

"What are you doing?"

Saphron paused, and turned around to face the person that was addressing her. The woman in question had short black hair and dark eyes and bright red glasses. The lower half of her face was covered by a plaid scarf.

"I-"

"Did you forget the instructions? Keep your face covered!" The woman continued. "Do you want the Security Bureau coming after you?"

"I'm just here to swap some books around!" Saphron protested. "I wasn't even aware that this was going on!"

"Oh.." The woman paused, and Saphron could tell that she was probably smiling beneath her mask. "Do you want to join in?"

That question startled her. She was quite clearly not of Pellan heritage. But if she was honest, she had a thing for women with glasses..and there was something about the mood in the air, so she gave a very firm and not at all bewildered:

"...Sure?"

"Good. We're glad you have you." She clapped Saphron on the shoulder, and started to lead her to the edges of the crowd. "Let's just get you something for your face and a sign and we'll get you started."

"Sounds like a plan to me!" "I'm Saphron, by the way."

"Terra." She replied with a grin, "Terra Cotta. Nice to meet you."

________

May 21st, 74AW

It was frankly a strange sight to see.

My desk is empty, the shelves empty, the Vacuan Miniature Cactus I had by my window was in the box currently sitting on the back seat of my car. My clearance had been changed from that of a Military Officer to that of an Academy Teacher and I had already handed over my authorization pass. Admittedly, I'd been given one for Academy staff straight after, but the previous pass had barely left my person in the near decade I'd had it.

My colleagues had brought me gifts, as was the unofficial tradition. Most gave me books, some of them were actually quite old and rare. One gave me an old world map dating from pre-Great war. Glover had given me a very expensive bottle of Vacuan tequila. But my favorite gift by far was a t-shirt with the words "I got lost in a ruin, and all I found was an awesome daughter" displayed upon it.

It was hard to keep working all shift, knowing that it was the end. But I was ever a professional, and worked right up until I was meant to. Then, over the course of less than an hour, I cleared out my office.

Now, with everything in my car aside from myself, I took one last look at my office before turning off the light. I went from office to office, bidding my colleagues goodbye.

And then, I arrived at Glover's office. He was reaching the point when he would be retiring, and he had confessed to us that unless he was explicitly asked to stay on, he would be doing so within the year.

And so, as he did with everyone that left the Archives, Captain Royce Glover stood up from his desk, and slowly walked me to the doors. We talked, and we joked. We reminisced and we remembered.

Then we reached the doors, and he shook my hand.

"It's been a pleasure having you with us, Casper. I look forward to working with you further in your new role, Professor." Glover said, before cracking a grin. "You might want to invest in a pair of plain glasses though, to make yourself look smarter. Almost like you know what you're talking about."

And with a laugh and my head held high, I walked out of the Archives for the last time as an Archivist.

___________________________

June 6th 74AW:

Cinder

Wishing you a Happy Eleventh Birthday

-Dad.

_______________________________

September 74AW:

I took a deep breath as I looked around my classroom one last time before my first class started. I'd been undergoing training pretty much the day I'd accepted Ironwood's offer, and it slowly dawned on me that my role was more akin to a University Lecturer rather than an actual teacher, which suited me fine. Giving lectures and answering questions and marking work was probably far easier than the work of actual teachers.

I'd opted to wear as my 'professor' uniform a white shirt and black tie, a green waistcoat and trousers, what I would once have called brown Oxford shoes polished to perfection, and as Glover had suggested, a pair of plain glass glasses.

Nodding to myself, I opened the door to my classroom and ushered my students in, directing them to take a seat but to try and keep to their teams. All of them were of course in the Academy uniform, consisting of white long-sleeved shirts with gray pocket-vest jackets on top. These were accompanied by a dark-gray tie and long white trousers. Unlike in what little I could recall from the single split second they were shown in canon, all students wore trousers and black boots. It was the first year class, and I actually recognised some of them. Most of the Happy Huntresses were in the room, but quite obviously the standout was Winter fucking Schnee.

Who I had last seen on screen battered and bleeding after a fight with BitchFall herself.

But what happened after that was a mystery to me. Because my knowledge runs out at the end of volume seven. Right after Ironwood decided to go Dictator-Mode. That was, understandably, something I would seek to prevent. Both because it would irrevocably damage the reputation of my new homeland and likely rip the nation apart, but also because I liked Ironwood. I knew him now, and knew that he was at his heart a good man. He had a son now too, a son that was my daughters best friend.

"Good morning, students." I began, and waited for their response of 'Good Morning Sir!' before I continued. "I am Casper Schwartz, The Professor of History here at Atlas Academy. It is my first year in this role after eight years in the Military Archives, so this will be a learning experience for us all, I suppose. You may address me as Professor or Sir, whichever you are more comfortable with."

I allowed a few moments for my introduction to sink in, before I continued."You may have noticed that you each have a sheet of paper on your desk. What it is is almost certainly the most useful bit of paper you've ever had in your life. It's the step-by-step guide to writing a report to the Atlesian Military Standard. Commit it to memory, because you'll be referring to it a lot...if you don't want the Archives after your asses. Just follow it and make their lives and yours so much easier. I want you all to just give it a quick read through now, and then we'll begin the lesson proper.."

Because if there was one think that drove us mad, it was people not following the fucking standard.

After a few minutes, a couple of the students raised their hands to ask questions. The youngest person in the room, Flannery Lebeau of Team AALM (Almond) asked if they were expected to write to the standard even in the field, and gave a simple nod  when I informed her that yes that was indeed the expectation. Winter of all people asked if the students had to handwrite any reports, and was clearly fighting back elation when I answered that it was the standard not to.

 A few more students asked questions as they grew more confident, but soon enough no more hands came up. It was time to move things along.

"Alright then!" I clapped my hands together and smiled. "Let's begin with some introductions."

_______________________________

December, 74AW:.

Hello Neighbour!

As usual, Epsilon Heights will be hosting a little get together to celebrate Year's End, and to watch the various firework displays. Food and hot drinks will be provided. Also as usual, there is to be no alcohol.

 - Winston

_______________________________

June 6th 75AW:

Cinder

Wishing you a Happy Twelfth Birthday

-Dad.

_______________________________

July, 75AW.

BREAKING NEWS!

ABSINTHE ARNOLD RESIGNS AS HEADMISTRESS!

GENERAL IRONWOOD TO APPOINT SUCCESSOR.

_______________________________

August, 75AW.

Mercury Ironwood loved the summer.

No school, no schoolwork. Time with Dad. Time to enjoy himself. And time to explore the city with his friend. Whether it was running around the park or enjoying soda and hotdogs as they headed home.

But today, he could clearly tell that something was up with Cinder Schwartz. She had an unusually serious expression on her face. So they found a bench in the park, and he simply let her get her thoughts in order.

"Have I told you how Dad found me?" She eventually asked.

"I don't think so."

"There is a temple on the other side of the White Sea. Dad got sent there as the Archivist for the mission, and I think your Dad was the Lieutenant that was running it. The temple apparently had properties that warded off the Grimm, and the military wanted to see if it could be replicated. Dad was exploring the place and had to go off on his own, and ended up being the one that found the main altar room. And on the grand altar, he found me." Cinder paused, and Mercury frowned as he watched the usually ever present smile on his friend's face faded away. "They think that my Mo-...that the woman that gave birth to me just sat me down on the altar and left me as an offering for the temple's deity."

"Dad took me in when we got to Atlas, and the rest is history." Cinder smiled a weak smile. "He adopted me as soon as he could, and I am proud to be his daughter…but.."

"..But you always wonder why she abandoned you?"

"...Exactly,"

Mercury didn't know what to say to that.

"..I want to see the world." His friend suddenly declared, neatly avoiding the need for him to figure out what to say. "I want to explore the forgotten places of Remnant, and put them back on the map! I want to go to the tiny settlements and help them thrive and grow! I want to reclaim this world from the Grimm!"

"I'm gonna be a Huntress!"

At that declaration, Mercury could only nod. It did make the most sense after all. The Military was probably the easiest way to do that. Although he supposed that being an actual Huntress rather than a Specialist would afford Cinder more freedom. And he liked the sound of that word. Freedom.

"Do you have my back Merc?" Cinder asked him. His first and closest friend was looking at him with such hope, such enthusiasm and conviction in her eyes..that there was really only one answer he could give.

"Only if you've got mine, Cin."

And with little more than a fist bump, their path in life was decided.

_______________________________

September, 75AW.

BREAKING NEWS!

IRONWOOD APPOINTS SION GREYMOON AS INTERIM HEADMASTER OF ATLAS ACADEMY.

______________________

November, 75AW.

It was, in some ways, the day she had dreaded.

Ghira had continued in his overly pacifistic ways, and next to nothing had changed. Sure, Atlas had given some concessions following the hijacking of the Audumla, but that was not down to his methods. It was Atlas covering its ass and trying to dig themselves out of a hole that traitors had dug for them.

And the less said about his response, or rather his lack of response, to Trifa Aprisum's murder the better.

So it was that Sienna Khan had come to this point in the road. The day she had dreaded, but a day she knew was necessary. And she was not alone.

Taran Aprisum had been easy to convince. It had felt wrong to take advantage of his grief for his murdered niece, but if it allowed the Fang to gain the equality humanity owed them, it was a wrong she could live with. Icarus Halcyon however, would have to be watched. Sienna knew how much he had suffered at the hands of the SDC, and lost more than most. But the Vulture Faunus had grown extreme in his opinions, and it was his strength and raw power alone that led her to recruit him.

She had called a meeting at the Chieftain's house, and a great many of her colleagues were there. Ghira had sent Kali and little Blake away, not that they were in any danger. But the sheer fact that he clearly didn't trust her not to harm his family wounded her deeply. But she soldiered on anyway.

The argument went back and forth, Ghira's placating tone clashing with her realistic view on things. A war of words playing out before the assembled members of the White Fang. But eventually, Sienna had had enough. They were just talking in circles, Ghira kept his head buried in the sand. Kept denying the obvious. Kept blindly clinging to hope. Kept to his personal pacifistic ideals no matter how many of their people continued to suffer because of it.

"The peaceful path is never wrong, Sienna."

"The peaceful path can only work if you are capable of great violence. If you are not capable of violence, You're not peaceful, You're harmless." Sienna told him, "And Ghira, I hate to tell you this…but with you in charge of the Fang, we are harmless. And I'm sorry, but I refuse to be that anymore."

She turned on her heel, and made for the door.

"If anyone else refuses to be harmless anymore, follow me. The rest of you? Stay out of the way." And without another word, Sienna Khan strode out of the Chieftain's house.

She never saw Ghira's heart sink as most of the room followed along after her. She couldn't bring herself to look her old friend in the eye.

_______________________________

December, 75AW:.

Hello Neighbour!

As usual, Epsilon Heights will be hosting a little get together to celebrate Year's End, and to watch the various firework displays. Food and hot drinks will be provided. Also as usual, there is to be no alcohol.

 - Winston

Chapter Text

June 6th 76AW:

Cinder

Wishing you a Happy Thirteenth Birthday 

-Dad.

 September 1st 76AW:

James Ironwood had a number of problems on his hands. Some big, some less so. 

One was that his son was now training to be a Huntsman and throwing himself into it with gusto, and it was a struggle to remain professional and not fatherly with regards to his progress. He’d even spoken with Professor Schwartz about potentially sending both Mercury and Cinder to a different Academy instead of Atlas, so as to avoid any chance of unintentional nepotism or harshness.

They hadn’t come to a decision, but both men had agreed it seemed like a good idea.

The Atlesian Ruling Council were another problem entirely. Political games both foreign and domestic. The only saving grace was the fact that the Council hadn’t changed at the last election. It was still filled with reasonable, if opinionated, individuals. There was even talk of granting seats to the other cities of the Kingdom, Essen, Cross and Dormir. It was only the fact that no other nation had considered expanding their councils beyond the initial five seats that stopped them.

And lastly, there was the manpower issue.

So he was taking a walk around the Academy grounds with its current (if technically ‘interim’) Headmaster, Sion Greymoon. The man was practically a living legend. He had commanded the AFV Discipline for nearly a quarter of a century, turning it from the ship were the dregs of the Air Fleet were dumped into a well dusted fighting force that was amongst the most elite in the entire military. He was serving as Acting Headmaster of Atlas Academy, and had already whipped some of the more difficult students into shape. 

True, he needed a cane to walk after sustaining an injury on duty, but he still commanded respect. 

It was why he was recruited into the Inner Circle, after all. And it was why James was talking with him now.

“-nd who would suit best in your opinion?” Ironwood queried.

“...Team SSTO would suit best.” Sion replied. “Teams AALM and SHNZ are probably better as units, but the former have stated that they wish to explore the world for a few years before making any decisions as to their futures, and the latter are on record as wishing to join the Huntsfolk Association. But my dear Stormies are already demonstrating the appropriate mindset for our operations despite their ages.”

“....I see.” Ironwood responded, and let out a gentle sigh. “...Their age is a factor we need to consider. They are still young. Perhaps it would be better if we waited until after their schooling to bring them in.”

“In that case, why not send them on a few missions? They'll be starting those this year.” Sion suggested. “Start with some unaffiliated ones, and depending on how they do, ease them into missions for us. By the time they graduate, or perhaps earlier, they’d be a fully trained and ready combat team and more open to certain truths about the world.”

Ironwood nodded a few times as he went over the information in his head, but remained silent.

“James, I understand that it makes you uncomfortable to think about, but we do need a field team. Oliver might be content just to use his single operative to combat Salem, but there is only so much one drunk can do.” Sion rested a hand on his shoulder. “Theodore was the sole operative of his predecessor, and talented as he is, he struggled to keep Vacuo stable alone. He has a field team. And our Mistralli colleague has two, one public and one private. Only the latter has been brought into ‘the know’ as it were.”

“..Very well.” Ironwood murmured after a few moments of silence. “I will trust in your judgment, Headmaster. Test them however you see fit, but push them hard. No coddling.”

“Oh don’t worry.” Sion smiled a broad smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

December, 76AW:.

Hello Neighbour!

As usual, Epsilon Heights will be hosting a little get together to celebrate Year's End, and to watch the various firework displays. Food and hot drinks will be provided. Also as usual, there is to be no alcohol.

 - Winston

February, 77AW:.

Moving house was always an interesting experience, to be sure. 

It was something I’d only done once before in my time in Remnant, although the last time had the added difficulty of moving from Mantle up to Atlas. This time at least, I was only moving across the city.

The house was in the typical Atlesian style, one inherited from their original Pellan roots but evolved over the centuries since Solitas’ colonization. Three stories tall, with the kitchen and dining room on the ground floor. A bathroom was on the next floor, along with a lounge area and office space. Which meant that the bedrooms were on the top floor. All designed to save space and build upwards. But the most important thing was that it had a garden. Admittedly, it was a rooftop garden, but as I’d not had a garden since moving out of my parents, any form of garden was a bonus.

And lastly, our small family had grown by one in the form of Spook the Cat. Adopted from a shelter, the skittish little feline wasn’t quite a kitten, but she was still young. Completely black save for her white ‘socks’, Cinder had pretty much fallen in love with her on sight and was quick to try and settle her in.

Personally, I think it was partly to help herself settle in. Epsilon Heights had been her first real home, it made sense that she’d be a little off. Oh sure, it had taken her less than a weekend to break out the red paint to make her new room feel a little more like home and even added a swirling golden border to, in her own words, ‘fancy up the place’, but it was quite clear it would be a while before it was home to her. So the company of her new furry companion, who more often than not slept in her room, was just the calming balm that was needed.

I had actually set up a proper office in its own room rather than just a corner of an apartment, and could actually leave my work life behind when I left the room rather than have a constant reminder in view. I’d even gotten comfortable in my teaching career to boot!  Progress! 

Which of course meant that 77AW would be the last easy year for a very, very long time.

Damn my luck.

June 6th 77AW:

Cinder

Wishing you a Happy Fourteenth Birthday 

-Dad.

July 77AW:

Miss Cinder Schwartz

It is my pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted as a student at the Helios Combat School. Uniforms will be provided, although we will need to know what sizes you require before term starts. A Handbook has been sent with this letter, and it is highly recommended that you read and commit it to memory.

Term starts at 8:00 on the 3rd of September.

Yours,

Trish Rust, Headmistress 

---

Mr Mercury Ironwood

It is my pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted as a student at the Helios Combat School. Uniforms will be provided, although we will need to know what sizes you require before term starts. A Handbook has been sent with this letter, and it is highly recommended that you read and commit it to memory.

Term starts at 8:00 on the 3rd of September.

Yours,

Trish Rust, Headmistress 

September, 77AW:.

BREAKING NEWS!

SION GREYMOON TO BE PERMANENT HEADMASTER OF ATLAS ACADEMY.

December, 77AW:.

To all our friends,

Wishing you a safe and joyous Year’s End, and a prosperous 78AW.

-Casper and Cinder.

March, 78AW:.

It was called ‘The Blue Room’.

It was an office within Atlesian Military Headquarters that was entirely separated from the rest of the building. Soundproofed and with a separate power supply, officially it was a room from which wars or civil conflicts could be conducted safely and securely.

In reality, it was the place where the Atlesian branch of the Inner Circle Sanctuary would convene. After his mentor, Albus Hawthorn, stepped down and away from both the Military and the ICS, it had been Ironwood that had taken over as Division Leader. It should have been Absinthe Campbell, but she had stood down as Headmistress at the end of the previous academic year and promptly left to in her own words ‘Be a Mother for the first time in a decade and a half’. She’d still be available for advice or emergencies, but her part of the Shadow War was over. 

So he had been in the unenviable position of having to rebuild the branch nearly from scratch.

It was his longtime Adjutant, Jade Vocino, that was his first recruit. Not only had they been colleagues for years, they were also good friends out of work. Once, they’d even considered becoming more than that, but came to the conclusion that it would not be right to endanger their friendship if a relationship failed. He still trusted her with his life though, and with that of his son. A perfect Second-in-Command.

Sion Greymoon was the only one that was absent from the meeting. He was required at the Academy, but he was already privy to what was going to happen and had given his backing.

Clover Ebi was next. The star of the Specialist program, who was as principled as he was pragmatic. A natural-born leader, loyal to his nation and the world. The perfect leader of the ‘field team’ James had inevitably had to create. And his semblance of ‘Good Fortune’ was undeniably useful.

The last person was a blonde woman, Bianca Schokolade. The bodyguard of the Winter Maiden herself. Once, she had been in place to succeed Fria Bernadotte in that role. But as Fria grew older, and Bianca turned from an excitable teen to an almost eccentric young woman, it soon became clear that Bianca would be too old to become a maiden when Fria died. And it would be an incredible waste to not put her skills to use more frequently, especially since her semblance, Object Memory, made her a near flawless detective. The fact that Fria was not nearly as physically active as she once was, and spent more and more time at her home in Atlas, meant that Bianca spent more and more time doing nothing but growing ever more bored and restless.

Ozpin had wanted them both transferred to his secret ‘Sanctuary’ facility so Fria could live out her remaining years there, but the Winter Maiden had quite firmly told him where he could stick his ‘wants’. And, if James were being honest, her main argument made sense. It was bad enough that Amber Carpo was still being kept there, unable to leave and see the world she was supposed to defend until she was required to defend it. Placing two Maidens in the same place would turn Sanctuary into too tempting a target for their enemy.

Ozpin hadn’t heard a word from Clementine Laurel for nearly five years, and hadn’t heard from Gloria Viridian almost as long. Half of the Maidens were effectively off the grid. Half of the Maidens could be dead, and the Brother’s only knew who their replacements could be. Losing the Maiden’s that they did have would be catastrophic.

But those were problems for another day. Today, his circle was expanding by one. Taking inspiration from the Cells in both Vale and Vacuo, where most if not all of the faculty were part of the Inner Circle, James had started to recruit the Professors at Atlas Academy. He knew he wouldn’t be able to recruit all of them, some were too loyal to Atlas or too skeptical to believe in the truth. But there were a few that he could bring in, and it only made sense to begin with the one Professor he’d explicitly asked to take the job.

So as Casper Schwartz settled into a seat in front of him, James could only ponder as to what he was bringing his fellow single father into. And whether or not it would be worth it.

“I’ll…need you to keep an open mind about the information you are about to be given.” He began. “And of course, as this information is so far beyond black level classified, to share it without prior consent will be considered treason.”

“I understand, sir.” Came Casper’s calm response.

“....Let me tell you about a being named Salem. ”

June 6th 78AW:

Cinder

Wishing you a Happy Fifteenth Birthday 

-Dad.

September 9th 78AW:

Team SSTO

Please report to my office at nine o’clock sharp tomorrow. There are matters that I need to discuss with you with regards to your missions this year. There will be a number of other people attending this meeting, so do be sure to come in your uniforms.

You will be exempt from lessons for the day.

-Sion Greymoon, Headmaster.

Chapter Text

Team SSTO

 Please report to my office at nine o'clock sharp tomorrow. There are matters that I need to discuss with you with regards to your missions this year. There will be a number of other people attending this meeting, so do be sure to come in your uniforms. 

You will be exempt from lessons for the day. 

-Sion Greymoon, Headmaster.

It was strange to think that they were in their final year at the Academy. And if she was being honest with herself, Winter Schnee could never have imagined coming to care for her team as much as she did. When they first formed, they did not mesh well in the slightest. 

First, there was her partner. Sirius Oracion. Proud scion of one of the ‘Old Families’ and much loved nephew of Councillor Lethe Oracion. Carrying himself with a swagger and a perpetual smirk, he had been exceedingly insufferable for the first few months. Boasting about his family history and bemoaning the fact he had to listen to the daughter of a ‘mere’ businessman. But by the end of their first year, he had fallen into lockstep with her and her decisions and had even saved her life during one of their missions in the third year. Yes, there were rumors in gossip magazines about them being in a relationship and yes said rumors were nonsense. He wasn’t into women and she hadn’t figured that sort of thing out yet.

And she had to admit, watching Sirius punching his father square in the jaw when the older man had insulted their team at some high society banquet or other would live long in her memories and made her wish that she’d recorded it.

Then there was Tortuga Darwin, a tortoise Faunus. He had started a year later than the rest of the Team due to certain familial circumstances, but had been quick to prove himself worthy of being at the Academy. His skin had a faint green tinge to it, and there were a smattering of scales across his body. He was tall and broad and the closest thing to a living embodiment of a gentle giant that Winter had ever met. Outside of battle , at least. She’d seen him pulp a Grimm’s skull with his bare hands on more than one occasion, after all. 

There had been some degree of prejudice on both sides when they had first met, but they had long since apologized to each other and come to peace. She had come to trust his insights and judgment calls (and his breakfasts were divine ).

And lastly was Orchid Mander. Winter was still not sure what to make of her even all these years later. Despite the fact that her last teammate had her head in the clouds more often than not, and had once driven Winter to the point of actually shaking her whilst screaming at the top of her lungs…Winter couldn’t deny the fact that Orchid had a knack for pulling off the impossible, often without explanation. On more than one occasion she’d saved the lives of the rest of her team from a threat that they’d not even known was there. 

True, Orchid still acted like she wasn’t all there most of the time, but at least now Winter knew it was probably down to her Semblance rather than anything untoward. Having total awareness of everything within a hundred meter radius at all times would drive anyone a little nutty.

Together, they weren’t just Team SSTO of Atlas Academy. They had become the Headmaster’s ever dependable ‘Stormies’, handling a spate of special and classified missions for him. It was troublesome to keep things from their classmates, especially Teams AALM and SHNZ given how close they were despite (or perhaps because of ) their friendly rivalry, but it had been a lesson on how to keep things secret. 

So it wasn’t with any real sense of concern or trepidation that they had entered the Headmaster’s office that morning. Winter wouldn’t go as far as to say she was excited at the prospect of another mission, but she was certainly looking forward to being back out into the big wide world again. They’d been to the City of Oasis in Vacuo during one particular mission the previous year, and spent ten days chasing down the dregs of a smuggling ring that had been based in Mantle but had fled to the infamous ‘city of sin’ across the ocean. Working alongside a local non-association Huntsman a couple of years their senior, the mission was wrapped up within a week and she and her team had enjoyed a couple of days just cutting loose and having fun. Their hangovers at the end of it were inevitable, but totally worth it.

What Winter hadn’t counted on however, was just who was waiting for them in Headmaster Greymoon’s office. Swiveling around in the Headmaster’s chair, hands steepled and  glasses glinting was Professor Casper Schwartz, looking like some stereotypical maniacal mad scientist from Friday afternoon children shows.

Not that she would know about those, of course.

“...Does Headmaster Greymoon know you’re messing with his chair, Professor?” It was Sirius that asked the question, cheerfully snarking at their history teacher without even a moment of hesitation.

Not in the slightest!” Professor Schwartz grinned sheepishly as he got up. “But I figured it’d be best to start things off with some levity today. You’ll be getting into some pretty heavy topics soon, and I’d rather your entire day not be one long series of complicated…. stuff .”

Winter nodded along, and allowed herself a smile. She had admittedly been somewhat apprehensive when she had first met Professor Casper Schwartz. The man had after all come right out and told them that they were his first ever class, and it was to her shame that she lacked confidence in him because of that. But in the few years since, she had come to both respect and like their Professor of History.

He showed no one any favor, tolerated no insults or discrimination, and did his utmost to always teach in a manner free from propaganda. Or at the very least, always told them when his sources were probably propagandistic in nature. His essays on the Pre-War World were concise, and if the rumors were true, the outline of a series of books he was writing on the subject. 

However, it was the care he had for his students that had propelled him firmly into the ‘favorite teacher’ slot. Whether it be his willingness to listen or his open door policy or the fact he actually cared about them and not the Specialists they were training to be.

“Might I inquire as to who else is attending this meeting, Professor?” Tortuga asked, drawing Winter from her thoughts and getting those in the office back on topic. 

Professor Schwartz’s smile faded a little, and he shook his head. “I am afraid we’ll need to go somewhere else for that, Mr Darwin. I’m here on escort duty.”

Before any of her team could comment further, their Professor glanced at his watch and gave a nod, and proceeded towards the door, and Winter noticed that he was armed. It was with the standard issue sidearm that most soldiers and specialists were given, but Winter could honestly say she’d never seen Professor Schwartz armed. Her team shared a glance amongst themselves before falling into step behind him. 

“And Team SSTO.” The Professor paused at the door, and continued to speak in what was for him at least, an unusually serious tone. “From here on out you are under mission conditions.”

It was as though a switch had been thrown, and within the space of a single step Winter allowed her smile to dim to an emotionless mask and her relaxed gait to give way to that which was far more professional and combat ready. She didn’t even need to glance behind her to know that her teammates had done the same. 

If even Professor Schwartz, practical and honest and laidback Professor Schwartz, was in full ‘military mode’, whatever it was they were about to be brought into had to be of some ridiculous level of importance or secrecy. Or both.

Likely both. Winter thought.

They followed in obedient silence, even as they left the Academy proper and headed into the Military Headquarters. Passing by personnel who paid them no mind and through the corridors they recognised…until they reached ones they didn’t .

Several sets of security doors soon passed them by, and Winter could confess some level of anxiety was setting in. Gone was the background noise of dozens of conversations. Gone was the background noise of computers, scrolls and news reports. Gone was any form of background noise at all. There was simply silence, save for their own footfalls.

This increasingly unnerving state of affairs mercifully ended when the group reached what outwardly appeared to be just another stretch of blank corridor…only for part of the wall to open up to reveal a hidden office which their Professor led them into. It was unlike any office any of them had ever seen before. Each wall was covered with multiple screens displaying too much information to take in at a glance, and the table in the middle of the room appeared to be a highly accurate and advanced map of Remnant.

The Headmaster was there, as were four other people. All of whom Winter recognised to some degree.

Jade Vocino was the right-hand woman of General Ironwood and effectively the person that ran the day-to-day operations of the entire Military. It was her that was spearheading the reforms that were starting to be implemented across the various branches of the Military, finally dealing with the mess of contradictions and inter-branch rivalries that had plagued the organization ever since it was essentially founded after the Great War, with new branches effectively tacked onto the existing apparatus. And then of course there was the racism that had to be finally expunged from their ranks. Winter did not envy Vocino in her task.

Ace-Ops Commander Clover Ebi was there, happily sharing a joke with a blonde woman she had never met before. She had seen her around before of course. Everyone had. Bianca Schokolade was practically a celebrity, the Specialist turned Detective that had used her ‘Object Memory’ Semblance to solve dozens of unsolved crimes in the span of a single summer.

And the final person in the room was the General of the Military himself, James Ironwood. Winter had met him before, but only ever in passing. Most of the time her interactions with him were limited to when he would occasionally watch their combat classes and offer advice or other observations he had. He had also personally congratulated her team when they had completed one of the ‘special’ missions they had been assigned, although she was only now wondering if said mission was more significant than it first appeared..

But she didn’t have much time to ponder this, as the General cleared his throat and finally addressed them with seven words that would go on to change her life, and the lives of her teammates forever..

“Team SSTO, welcome to the Blue Room.”

Chapter Text

"Team SSTO, welcome to the Blue Room."

I took my seat as Ironwood introduced the rest of those in the room, although judging from the looks on SSTO’s faces, they were unnecessary. Likewise, the introductions of SSTO appeared just as unneeded. But politeness was rarely a bad thing, and allowing things to be as formal and professional as possible would probably help to compartmentalize the magnitude of the secret they were about to be let in on. That particular Atlesian cultural norm did occasionally have its uses.

“Before you sit down, I'll need you to keep an open mind about the information you are about to be given." Ironwood began, using the exact same words as he had when he recruited me. "And of course, as this information is so far beyond black level classified, to share it without prior consent or permission will be considered treason. Is that understood?"

“Yes sir!” The Stormies replied as one, saluting crisply.

“Very good, take your seats.”

I watched the scene unfold before me from my own seat, a neutral expression plastered on my face. It was mirrored across everyone else on our side, save of course Bianca, who wore a relaxed smile. We were all curious to see just how Ironwood would reveal the existence of Salem to the students before us (and not just because we all had money on it).

“What do you know about the classification of the Grimm?”

Ah. That’s probably the easiest way. I thought with a slight nod. Eases them into it, and doesn’t just drop the big truth bomb right out of the gate like he did with me. And he can even clue the Stormies in on the existence of the Abominations too.

And hadn’t that been a horrifying thing to discover. The Grimm immediately below Salem in the Grimm totem pole, and what I assume Kevin the Wyvern counts as. Whilst the Association did not recognise their existence, preferring instead to just classify them as high-end Tyrant-class Grimm, the Inner Circle Sanctuary was very aware that they were real. I had only been informed about two of the four Abominations that the Inner Circle were aware of. Those being The Juggernaut and The Wendigo. Whilst the former didn’t really arouse much feeling, the latter very much did. Firstly because it was an Abomination that was practically next door…and secondly because it clued me in on what Draco Stirling’s ultimate fate had likely ended up being.

“The Grimm are typically classified as one of five levels.” Predictably, it was Winter that eventually answered. “Runts are the lowest level, freshly spawned. They are usually not an issue unless in huge numbers, and are typically what trainee Huntsfolk train against before going to one of the Four Main Academies. Following that is the Standard Grimm, and true to their name they make up the bulk of the Grimm population. After Standards are the Alphas, who often lead most of the bigger Grimm packs.”

“Elders come next.” Tortuga took over the explanation. “They tend to be solitary, or travel with other Elder Grimm. What makes them dangerous is that they have gained a measure of intelligence, and are less animalistic than their lesser cousins. They are capable of patience, and a modicum of strategic thought. The upside is that they are fairly rare, with the Huntsfolk Association estimating that only one in every twenty Alpha’s will ever last long enough to become an Elder.”

Sirius then finished the explanation. “Tyrants come next, and are at the top of the pyramid. Only the most skilled Huntsfolk Teams can deal with them with any degree of certainty, as a result only those veteran teams judged skilled enough are even allowed to take missions involving them. Thankfully, they are even rarer than Elders, with there only being about a hundred or so confirmed Tyrant Class Grimm across Remnant at any given time. According to Association estimates, of course.”

As correct as they could get given the information they have access to. I smiled, A textbook answer. Textbook, but wrong.

“I am afraid that you are incorrect, Miss Schnee.” Headmaster Greymoon replied as he toyed at his beard. “There are in fact seven levels to the classification of Grimm, although the top two tiers are kept secret from the general public. We call the sixth level ‘Abominations’, and they are to Tyrants what a Tyrant-Class is to a Standard-Class Grimm.”

It was to their credit that the surprise mixed with horror on the Stormies' faces only lasted a few seconds before giving way for their emotionless masks to settle back into place. After about half a minute of silence, it was Sirius Oracion that spoke first with an almost hesitant quip. “...I’m not certain that I want to know what the seventh tier involves.”

“Well I’ve got some good news and some truly terrible news on that front.” It was Ironwood that replied now, taking control of the conversation once again. “The good news is that there is only one seventh tier Grimm. The truly terrible news is She is their Queen.”

Winter blinked, and her face went blank.  “With due respect sir,...you’ve got to be shitting us. It sounds like something from a damn children’s story. The Queen of the Grimm, lurking in the shadows to slaughter humanity and the Faunus!..you all have to understand how difficult it is for myself and my team to believe this.”

“You aren’t saying anything we ourselves haven’t said ourselves, Miss Schnee.” I helpfully chimed in at this point. “But unfortunately, General Ironwood is almost certainly severely understating things. Her name is Salem, and she is very real.”

Winter slumped back into her seat. “...I see. My apologies for my language, Professor.”

I waved it off with a grin. “If your language is the only thing we need to worry about today, Miss Schnee, I shall consider us lucky.”

“Good. Because I do have a question that now cannot wait and I’m not in the mood to be polite.” Winter turned her gaze to Ironwood, and even stood up from her seat so as to be more face-to-face with the General. “Given you’ve been having us running unusual missions these past few years, missions that you’ve given us personally no less…is it safe to assume you’ve been shaping our careers so far? Grooming us so we’d be the perfect fucking operatives for this…shadow crusade?”

Ironwood and Greymoon shared a look, and after a few moments of silent conversation, it was the General that answered. “...You were our first choice, I will admit. We had the need for a team of operatives, and rather than just give you missions for no rhyme or reason, the General and I decided that bringing you into The Blue Room with full disclosure was a better option. Yes, it is true that we nudged your careers in a direction beneficial to us and our needs…but given our situation, we didn’t have many other options. You were not the only team we tested in this manner, but you are the only one that has been so successful so regularly. And given the stakes we are playing for, we couldn’t afford to ‘be nice’ about our tactics. I would offer my apologies, but they would be entirely superficial and I’d much rather be brutally honest and say that in the same circumstances I’d do exactly as I have done once again.”

Winter went quiet before she nodded once, and gestured for her team to follow her towards the exit of the room. “I appreciate the honesty, sir. Please excuse us. We need a moment to discuss things privately.”

Ironwood smiled, and strode over to where the wall panel opened out into the corridor, and pressed a button, allowing for the Stormies to leave. “Just knock on the wall when you’re ready to come back in.”

It was a long ten minutes as we waited for them to return. True, we made small talk (and settled up our bets), but mostly our time was spent staring at the monitoring screens and glancing over the information they were displaying. Protests in the Pellan Cities, fires in the City of Vacuo, the reopening of Domremy’s port in Vale, increased Grimm activity near Crossed in Solitas, elections in the Kingdom of Mistral.

And then came a trio of firm knocks. When the panel opened to reveal a quartet of serious faces, there was another moment of silence before Winter spoke.

“We’re in.”

We didn’t share everything with the Stormies. It wouldn’t be fair on them to just drop them straight into the Shadow War and uproot their entire worldview all in one day. But over the next few hours, we disclosed the pertinent facts: 

Salem existed. The Inner Circle Sanctuary was formed to fight her. Ozpin was the nominal leader of the group. The Maidens were a thing. There were more secrets that were being kept from them.

By the time we left the Blue Room, it was quite obvious that SSTO was not entirely in a good place. So I put my Professor face back on, and handed Winter 1000Ⱡ 

“Go have a Blackrock Burger on me.” I told them. “Get your heads sorted out. Brothers know I needed to break out the tequila after I was told.”

“...Aren’t you a teetotaler, Professor?” Tortuga asked hesitantly.

“I had just learned that the Grimm had a Queen ruling over them and that I’d been recruited to fight her.” I snarked. In reality, the tequila had been due to being brought into Ozpin’s Inner Circle, even if I’d never met or interacted with the man. It was one of the things I had intended to avoid when I had first arrived in Remnant…but then things happened and I’d made friends with Ironwood and come to genuinely consider Atlas to be home and come to care for my students and got a daughter and...everything else. “I think I deserved a damn drink.”

“Can we-” Sirius started with a slight grin, before I cut him off.

You’re all old enough to drink if you so choose, and that is all I will say on the matter.”

As they walked away, I fought back  a smile as Winter and Tortuga's words drifted into my ears....

“I think it is high time we took a page out of my mother’s book.” 

“Which is?”

“Life’s a bitch, that’s why there’s vodka.”

Chapter Text

I had a problem. 

I needed a weapon.

True, I had made do with my standard issue sidearm and even customized it to suit myself, but that had only been to change the grip to make it more comfortable. And with the start of canon rapidly approaching in all of its glories and all of its horrors, it was high time I actually created a weapon for myself. Even if I just used it for half a decade before putting it on a wall in my office, it was now more than just a matter of curiosity, it was practically a necessity. Team SSTO might be shaping up to be our field team, but there was more than a high chance that I’d need to be deployed into the field at some point in the not too distant future. A tiny little handgun wouldn’t do much to an Alpha Grimm out in the wild.

Plus I was a Professor for Brother's sake! Every other Professor at the Academy had their own unique weapon. I wanted one too. And I had the perfect idea for what I was going to create…or rather, recreate. That was one of the upsides of knowing about multiple different universes, I had entire worlds to plunder ideas from. 

Once upon a time I had been a fan of a certain game series, and whilst almost every weapon was of typical fantasy fare (swords, axes, shields and bows), there was one that stood out above all the others as utterly unique. A repeating-and-or-automatic crossbow with a carved wood stock, four limbs, silver and brass embellishments and a retractable bayonet. A masterpiece of craftsmanship called ‘Bianca’.

Now, my plan had several issues. One of which was that it had now been nearly fifteen years since I’d even played a Dragon Age game (including the twelve years I’d been in Remnant), so I only had half remembered memories to go on as to what Bianca looked like. The second was that I was in no way shape or form a weaponsmith, so would undoubtedly require aid to make said weapon.

Happily, I had just the aid in mind….

________

As with the other Kingdoms, the Kingdom of Atlas had a total of four Huntsfolk Association Academies. Three combat schools which fed into one of the ‘Four Academies’.

In Atlas, the combat schools were Calypso Academy, (which serviced the cities of Mantle and Crossed), Pleiades Academy (which serviced Essen and Dormir), and Helios Academy (which serviced the City of Atlas alone). Calypso and Pleiades were boarding schools much like Atlas Academy, and Helios was a day school. Cinder was grateful for that. It meant that she could still eat breakfast and drink coffee with her Dad in the morning before heading out for the day, and be home that evening to eat dinner and snuggle on the sofa with the cat.

Perfect.

But it was not Helios’ workshop that she was going to today. As great as it was, it paled in comparison to where she was going today.

It had been years since she had been to the Atlesian Military Headquarters, and even when she visited regularly she had never been allowed in the Workshop and Armoury. Admittedly, that was down to being both a child (with all of the desire to play with the cool looking weapons) and an Atlesian child (with all of the stereotypical desire to play with explosives) to boot, but all that was about to change. 

It was certainly a surprise when her Dad had asked for her help to build himself a weapon. Surprising in both the sense that, firstly he was actually building one, and secondly he had asked her for help. He’d shown her his plans, and she’d taken some time to try and figure out how to make it work.

She had only finished creating her own weapon a few months ago, after all, and was still in the ‘weapon-making’ mindset. Mercury had quite quickly designed his weapon. His Talarian Striders were in essence combat prosthetics , ones tailored explicitly to his unusual kick-boxing style of fighting. But he was also outfitting them for day-to-day use. “It’s no good having legs that can break a Grimm’s skull if I can’t walk down the street without breaking the street” was his explanation. But Cinder was fairly certain it was just an excuse to have only one set of prosthetics.

She herself had originally considered a greatsword, like those bedtime stories her Dad had told her as a kid. Of Arthur and his Knights sallying forth to slay the monsters and save the day, using Excaliburn to cleave the heads off of Grimm with a single swing before falling back to his castle to feast and celebrate their glories.

But if she was being honest with herself, she didn’t really have the build to do that. And it wasn’t how she preferred to fight. She was light on her feet and liked to deal with foes from a distance, not some hulking bruiser one-handing a zweihänder. 

But she had nonetheless taken inspiration from some of Dad’s other stories. Tales of the dashing Locksley the Robin and his ‘Men of the Hood’ stealing from the evil Sheriff to feed the poor, of bold Miss Croft raiding tombs and caves searching for lost treasure and history whilst killing long forgotten Grimm, and of tragic Sir Tristan of the Rounds who had inadvertently started off the dominoes that would lead to his King’s death by walking away.

So she had begun to construct a bow. A bow that could shift into a staff (Heh. A Bow -Staff) with lightning dust cattle prods at each end, and she had given it the name: Failnaught.

She had taken her weapon along with her. Not only to get herself used to taking it everywhere, but also to show off a little bit. Dad was busy with his work for Mister Ironwood and the Academy, so he hadn’t had the chance to see her precious Failnaught in action. That would change today! She’d help make his weapon, and then they’d make liberal use of the shooting range, really make a day of it!

So it was with a smile that Cinder entered the Workshop of the Headquarters, taking a moment before she moved to claim an area for her and her Dad to indulge in the near heavenly smell of dust and metal and plastic and oils that filled the air, and to lose herself in the sounds of metal on metal and practice gunfire. 

This was going to be fun.

In the end, it took several weeks and more late nights than I cared to count, but I finally had a working weapon. 

I had unashamedly opted to splurge a little on materials. Menagerian Snakewood for the stock, Pellan Brass and Valean Silver for the embellishments, Vacuan Steel for the bayonet and limbs, and a very high grade sight that Ironwood had provided me once he’d heard about what I was creating. I would need to custom make each and every bolt, but that was fine. Whilst it might sound overly smug, Blue Room resources were quite extensive and mass producing ammunition under the radar for one of their members was no issue at all.

And the first time I heard a bolt ‘thnk’- ing into a target, I am almost certain I had a gleeful smile on my face, one matching the one on Cinder’s face. Seeing her cheering and applauding when it dawned on her that we had finally got my weapon working was truly a wonderful sight, and when she inevitably kicked my ass in a shooting competition, she was thankfully not too smug..

Unfortunately, it was then that I reached the last problem I had, one that was thankfully far more minor than the others. I worked with someone called Bianca, so using the name was straight out unless I wanted to deal with several awkward questions, so I took a leaf out of Mister Zaeed Massani’s book.

I called her ‘Jessie’.

Chapter Text

Helios Academy, like most if not all Huntsfolk Association Feeder Schools, often attempted to curate their students first experience of killing Grimm. The School would try to find a nest of Runt Class Grimm, and just let the students go to town on them, with Teachers and the occasional Academy Team keeping watch for Standards and Alphas, and dealing with them so the new students weren’t overwhelmed by Grimm that were out of their league. This would be done twice a month for the two years leading up to joining an Association Academy. By the time a student left a Feeder School for an Academy, it was expected that they could deal with multiple Runt Class Grimm with contemptuous ease and have little to no trouble with a group of Standard Class Grimm.

And that was what this day trip was. Leaving the Academy at dawn and returning just before nightfall, spending the day out in the wilds killing Grimm. 

They wouldn’t be going anywhere near the White Sea Exclusion Zone of course. Even the Huntsfolk Association was barred from entering without both an exceedingly good reason and authorisation from the General of the Military. Something they apparently frequently complained about, according to Dad. 

Honestly. Cinder sighed at the thought. They were complaining that precautions were in place regarding people going into what was one of, if not the most Grimm dense places on Remnant? It was like they wanted their members to end up dead.

So here Cinder was, nursing a travel mug of strong coffee with a dash of Vacuan vanilla to sweeten it, standing in her combat gear in a Helios bullhead heading into the field for the first time. Her outfit was all of Huntsfolk grade, of course. She wasn’t arrogant enough with regard to her skills nor so attached to the idea of high fashion enough to forgo the industry standard weave.

She’d started with off-white leggings with reinforced kneepads. She had initially considered cargo pants for the pockets, but in the end had opted for a belt with smaller bags on it, bags that could be detached and discarded in the field if needed for the sake of her maneuverability. Said maneuverability was slightly offset by her heavy brown boots, but she was adapting.

A red sleeveless waistcoat with a swirling golden trim came next, over an off-white shirt with long, tight sleeves. They came down to a pair of brown archery gloves that both allowed her ease of use when using Failnaught in its bow form, but also insulated to avoid any chance of being shocked by its cattle-prod attachments. 

A quiver that Dad had commissioned for her, made out of some high tech material that the Specialists had access to, was slung across her back. It only held three dozen arrows, so she’d need to make them count.

And to complete her ensemble, there was a silver Caduceus chain around her neck. She and Dad only went to Temple once a month or so, but it never hurt having the Gods on side when out in the big, Grimm infested world.

And her oldest and dearest friend’s ensemble was, in her opinion, as expectedly reserved as ever. Merc had opted for a light grey and black two-toned zip-up jacket with black shoulderguards, along with black vambraces and gloves. This was coupled with a pair of black leggings that also covered his combat prosthetics, the Talarian Striders. The only pop of colour he’d added to his outfit was a simple red ascot (the one that she had got him for Year’s End a couple of years ago). 

He was next to her, leaning against the bullhead’s interior, arms folded and eyes closed, cool and composed like normal. As if they weren’t headed towards something that would undoubtedly define the rest of their lives.

As a result, the general atmosphere in the bullhead was a curious mix of anticipation and apprehension as. Some were chatting amongst themselves with goofy grins on their faces, others were checking and double checking and triple checking their weapons, others still were nervously glancing out of the windows as if trying to spot any Grimm even now.

“Your Dad not here to see us off?” She eventually asked, breaking the companionable silence that had developed around them. 

“..’fraid not.” Mercury shrugged. “He’s visiting some secret facility with Doctor Polendina today, even left before I woke up. Left us a note though, he apologised for not being there to see us off for our first hunt, but wished us well and ‘happy hunting’.”

Cinder grinned in response.

Happy hunting indeed!

_______________

Mercury Ironwood was surprisingly calm coming face-to-face with a Grimm once again. He’d seen them before, of course. Marcus had never been the most attentive of figures, so he’d had to learn early on to run away and fight down his fear whenever the Grimm did show up. Back then, it was mainly Standard and Alpha class Grimm with the rare Elder. The Runts that they were fighting today were almost relaxing by comparison, lacking any of the white-bone armour their more senior Grimm had, they looked more akin to big black wolves with elongated forelegs than the monsters that infested most of Remnant.

He could fight Runts. He could kill Runts. Grind them into a black paste beneath his boots before they dissolved into nothingness. The scared little boy he had been back then doubtless never understood or contemplated the sheer cathartic joy of being able to slaughter them by the dozen.

Case in point...the one he and Cinder were toying with now.

He swung a brutal kick into the beast’s side, sending it careening towards Cinder. She vaulted over it, and drove Failnaught’s cattle-prod attachment into the Beowolf’s side. It sizzled deep into Grimmflesh, filling the air with an acrid stench akin to a blend of boiling ink, battery acid and rot. The beast let out a pitying whine, and thrashed around for a few moments, before dissolving into nothing.

And that was how it went. Runt after Runt. Figuring out what worked and what didn’t. Stomping on their skulls and bashing their brains in, firing an arrow right between the eyes or straight into where their hearts should be…they’d even helped kill a Standard when one had drifted a little too close to the nest they were extinguishing.

It was a decent enough start to their journey, the profession to which he and Cinder were intending to dedicate their lives. True, it was only one nest. But it was one less nest spawning what Professor Schwartz had once jokingly called ‘Murderous Murder Monsters of Murder’ out into the world.

He shook his head as he took in the quiet that had settled in around them. His friend’s father might have an odd sense of humour, but he knew that Casper Schwartz  was a good friend and ally to his father, a good and honest teacher to his students, and a wonderful father to his dearest friend. If that was what he called the Grimm to lighten the mood, he could respect it.

“Hey Merc! We got another one!”

A razor sharp grin crossed his face at Cin’s words.

Happy Hunting indeed.