Cold Blows The Wind

by ReluctantVolunteer

In the decades following the Great War, the illusion of peace between the four Kingdoms has begun to chip away. Militia groups, terrorists, and private military corporations are pitted against one another as border disputes, sectarian violence, and clashes over resources grow more frequent. And the puppet master pulling the strings is preparing to show her hand. Reviews welcome!

2. Prologue

Prologue-

Beacon Academy, one year ago

Ozpin placed a hand to his chin as he studied Beacon's latest applicant. The young man sitting across from the headmaster returned the look with eyes that seemed to look right through him. His eyes were a deep shade of blue, with a darker ring around the outer edge of the iris. Ozpin knew that he had gotten those eyes from his mother. Everything else was more or less a carbon copy of the boy's father. He remembered the man sitting in that same chair, giving Ozpin that same look. His black hair was neatly kempt, matching his professional attire. He glanced back at the one-way monitor on his desktop, and remembered that the color of those eyes wasn't the natural ice-blue he'd been born with, if the file he had read was to be believed. He spoke first:

"Why are you here?"

"Perhaps you could elaborate."

"Very well. Why have you decided to pursue life as a Huntsman?"

"You don't think I'm here for the right reasons?" He raised an eyebrow.

"That's not what I said. There are a myriad of other pursuits, noble pursuits that someone with your skillset could apply themselves to. But you chose one of the most difficult and most dangerous. Why take the risk when the world is your oyster?"

"I think you've answered your own question. Nothing else would challenge me. I've always felt the need to test myself, even if-no, especially if that comes with some risk."

"So, not a thrill seeker, just someone who craves a challenge?"

"I suppose that's one way of putting it."

"I think it's the only way."

He glanced at his watch. Ozpin looked at it more closely, and realized that he'd seen it before. To say the boy takes after his father would be an understatement. Between his likeness, his voice, his body language...Arthur himself might as well be sitting across from me.

"Are we done here? You kept me waiting outside for almost half an hour. I get the sense you already made your decision before I stepped in this room."

Gets right to the point. No, the apple has definitely not fallen far from the tree. "Yes, I think we are." He stood and shook hands with the young man. "Samuel Covacs, it is my pleasure to formally welcome you to Beacon Academy."