Chapter 2: Keys to Peace
The ship begins to dock, so I stash away the letter and walk towards the exit. Outside, the clouds appear darker, looking as if they might soon rain. My fellow students begin to disperse, explore a bit of the campus, while others fuss with their luggage.
I didn't feel like wasting any time, so I head for the entrance of the school. In a few moments, Professor Ozpin is supposed to give us an orientation speech in the auditorium. Might as well head there right now so I can get this over with. But that won't make a real difference, will it? Getting there early does not mean that it will start sooner and that I'll get dinner sooner. I'm just going to end up waiting in a big empty room until everyone else shows up. Whatever, waiting is better than just goofing around the school. Besides, it's starting to rain.
There are already a number of other students in the auditorium. I don't really feel like socializing, so I'll just hang out in the back. The auditorium is a wide-open, circular room with marble floors and glass windows. There was elevated stadium seating above us, but I don't think we're supposed to be sitting there. Instead, everyone is just standing around in random clusters. I don't understand why we don't just sit in the seating above. Maybe Ozpin has good reason to have everyone stand. Standing shows more discipline; we are training to be soldiers after all, or like soldiers. It could also mean that he wants to give a short speech, and I hope that it is.
A few minutes pass and the PA system turns on. We hear a tap at the microphone, probably a sound check. I look up to see Ozpin on the stage in front of me. He is wearing his characteristic attire, green vest, green coat, green scarf, green everything. Although he doesn't seem very old, he has grey hair and a cane. He always has a cool look on his face, but the hair and cane make me think that he has seen a lot of horrors as a Huntsman. His colleague, who acts as his assistant most of the time, Glynda Goodwitch, stands a few feet behind him. Apparently, she is a pretty well-known Huntress, but I've never really heard of her before I met her three years ago. She has stern, emerald-like eyes behind a pair of stylish glasses. She's dressed in business attire, aside from a purple cape draped over her back.
"I'll keep this brief," Ozpin begins. "You have traveled here today in search of knowledge. To hone your craft and acquire new skills, and when you have finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people. But I look amongst you and all I see is wasted energy, in need of purpose, direction." Everyone seems a little taken aback by that last sentence. People whisper to one another, asking what he means by that or if they should feel offended by what he said. "You assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge will only carry you so far. It is up to you to take the first step." And with that, Ozpin just walked away. Some of the students seem confused, some even scared. To me, I feel like Ozpin is the sort of person who always means more than he says. You need to read between the lines to figure out what he is really trying to tell you. But honestly, I won't overthink what he said just now. It sounds like he gives this same speech to every new class here at Beacon. Must sound like a broken record to Ms. Goodwitch, being the only one to listen to it every year. Honestly, I'm just glad it was short.
Goodwitch then steps up to the microphone. She tells us that we'll be sleeping in the ballroom tonight and that Initiation begins tomorrow morning. We're dismissed and I start towards the dining hall. I'm hungry and I hear that the food at Beacon is supposed to be pretty good, a luxury we get for risking our lives in training, I suppose. I am just about to enter the dining hall when Ozpin steps around the corner and stops me. "Jayden," he says cheerfully, "so good to see you again. You've certainly grown."
"Thank you, Professor Ozpin." I'm doing my best to not seem impatient. I try to not think about food and continue the conversation.
"I trust you find everything at Beacon to your liking?"
"Well professor," I chuckle, "I'd like to explore more of the academy." Like the dining hall. "But, I'm sure that I'll enjoy it here."
"I'm glad," he smiles and begins speaking in a softer, more nostalgic tone. "You've really changed since the day I first met you. You're more polite, more amiable, and more," he paused. "peaceful. Linus would be happy to see you this way."
I really hoped that he wouldn't bring up Linus. I really don't need that on my mind right now. If I think about Linus, about back then, I might lose my appetite. "Thank you," I reply.
"Well, I best let you be on your way," he turns and walks down the hall behind me. "After all, there might not be any dinner left if I stay to talk pleasantries with you."
I turn to the dining hall and see that the serving line has become long. I mean, concert tickets long. For a good concert, mind you. All the other students got in line while we were talking. You've got to be kidding me! I make my way to the line; I'm going to be the last person served. I haven't heard my stomach growl this loud since I was a kid. I look back to see Ozpin walk out of sight. Pleasantries, yeah right.
After dinner, we are told to put our belongings away in the locker rooms. Right now, I'm one of the few people still in here on the account of getting dinner last. Yes, I'm still pretty bitter about that. I saw students taking up sleeping bags and changing into sleepwear. My luggage is a single, overstuffed rucksack. I didn't pack many changes of clothes. Most of what I brought was books, mementos, and knick-knacks to keep myself from getting bored. As I opened the locker, I find a mirror attached to the inside of the door where my reflection is staring back at me. Silver eyes hidden behind shaggy, dark green hair. Turning away from the mirror, I pull out the extra shirt I had and a pair of sweatpants and set them on the bench. I remove my boots and throw them in to the locker with my rucksack. I turn to my side and begin unhooking the holster to my weapon, the Guilty Ash, from my waist.
This weapon and I have a long history together, so let me gush for a bit. The Guilty Ash is a Dust-based firearm that I've made my weapon of choice. Best described, it looks like an oversized, ebony-black double-action revolver fitted with a scarlet sword underneath the barrel. By "Dust-based," I mean that it utilizes Dust and Dust rounds to fire and strike. Dust is a special material, usually appears in crystal or powdered form, which acts as an energy propellant. It has many everyday uses, from powering factories to fueling vehicles, but among Huntsman and Huntresses, it's for fighting. Weapons can be designed to utilize Dust. My gun uses Burn Dust to fire, well, fire. The revolver part holds six Compression Burn Dust rounds. These rounds are capable of releasing a sort of conical bullet made of what I can only describe as 'solid fire'. It has the stopping power required to take down the Grimm since it can punch through thick hides and armor-like skin.
As for the sword bayonet, the gun handle will snap back so it can be held like a traditional sword, but it requires powdered Burn Dust to reach its full potential. The Burn Dust not only cauterizes the blade, but also accelerates it, giving its strikes more weight.
I put the Guilty Ash and my olive drab jacket on the hook inside of the locker. I changed out of my regular outfit and put on my nightwear. Later, I found myself trying to relax on a sleeping bag lying on a hard, marble floor of the ballroom. I'm no stranger to sleeping on hard floors, but lying on marble had a strangle sensation to it. It's feels like the floor is pushing against my weight. Even something like rain-soaked wood floors had a certain level of invitingness to them. You would feel yourself sink into the surface as you drifted into sleep. But not with marble. It just keeps pressing on the back of my head, not letting me feel comfortable enough to dose off.
The marble floor is only a small annoyance compared to the bickering from the other students. "You can't seriously be defending terrorists here! White Fang are a bunch of psychopaths. End of story," says one girl with short chestnut hair. She seemed uptight and stubborn, but the boy arguing with her isn't any different. He is a Faunus. A fox-type, he has pointy ears with a reddish tail sticking out of his pajama bottoms.
"I'm not defending them! I'm saying that the White Fang are just a result of human oppression against the Faunus. It's more the Vale's fault for their action than anyone else's!"
"You can't blame violence and murder on anyone but the ones who committed it! Provoked or not, the White Fang are murderers. Plain and simple."
"We – they already tried peaceful protest and nothing changed. The government is so short-sighted and selfish that they brought this upon themselves. No person, Faunus or human, should have to put up with oppression from a society as cruel and indifferent as this one!" The Faunus boy started getting red. He stuttered before, saying 'we' before correcting himself. Was he part of the White Fang? It would make sense. White Fang used to be a peaceful political group that wanted to foster good relationships with the world powers after the Faunus War. There was still plenty of hate towards the Faunus from that war, even though it was humans who were the provoked them in the first place. That hate led to a lot of curtailed rights for the Faunus and the White Fang took to peaceful protest. Of course, that didn't always work, and so they adopted more direct protest methods. And that's the White Fang of today, a terrorist organization that formerly sought equal rights and to live fairly with humans and now seeks human extinction. Things don't always work out the way we hope, and people are always reluctant to take responsibility for their past mistakes.
But right now, I just want their argument to end so I can get some sleep. They kept getting louder, which was surprising considering that the chestnut-haired girl had already put her foot in her mount enough times for her to realize that she should shut up. And fox-boy wasn't doing any better. He never really agreed that the White Fang shouldn't be killing people, which would be smart to mention before you keep talking.
But, more importantly, why was I still thinking about this? Sleep, sleep, sleep, I just want to sleep. I try to ignore them, but I can't even if I could, I'm just too worked up right now. I sit up and look around. I could go back to my locker and grab a book, but I'm not sure I'm allowed to leave the ballroom.
I glance over the room and spot a piano. Playing the piano was something I picked up while I was living with my foster mother, Ms. Pan. Music always helped relax me, so I actually enjoy playing piano. I got up and make my way over the sea of sleeping bags to get to the piano. I finally sit down in front of it and decide that I'll play the most relaxing song I know. I test the keys and listen. The piano is kept in good condition. I get right into it and start playing. Slow to start, but then I pick up the rhythm and just go with it. The sound is so clear and crisp that I get lost in the music, all that matters is the song. I don't hear anything but the song. It's like I'm in another world. No bickering kids. No fighting. No Grimm.
The music is really working. I don't hear the arguing students. It's like they aren't even there. I keep playing, the soft music helping to put me in a state of relaxation that I almost fall asleep myself, but I really want to finish the song. As I come to the end, the pace dies down to the point where I can start hearing background noise, but there is none. I finish the song and turn around. Everybody, and I mean everybody, is asleep, even Chestnut Hair and Fox Boy. I can't believe that the piano worked that well. I get up slowly, put half to sleep by my own song, and crawl into my sleeping bag.
As I drift to sleep, I think of what I will be doing at this academy. We have peace for now, but tomorrow, I take the first step towards wiping the Grimm off the face of this world.