Main theme: Metro Exodus rap by Jt Music, featuring Andrea Storm Kaden
Arc Theme: Athrys's Embrace Eliksni Embrace by Ms Kenner
Theme: Postlude by Kevin Penkin
The days after the event known as the Surge were marked by a strange calm that seemed to sweep across the entire world, interrupted by the occasional minor skirmish and battle between the various sides of the conflict.
It was a time of tense rebuilding. By the end of the Surge, the remaining kingdoms that hadn't been completely destroyed by the Grimm- Being Mistral, Menagerie, Vacuo, and Vale- Were demoralised, fractured, depopulated, and barely hanging on by a thread. In fact, it is theorised by many analysists of the Second Great War that if the transmission that would one day become known as the 'New Dawn Broadcast' had been sent out any later, the kingdoms would've already collapsed under the weight of the Ascendant Court and the various other opportunistic factions that had risen up to fight them, and been wiped off the map.
Thankfully, that never happened. At least, not then.
But, in the absence of the technological juggernaut known at Atlas, much older forms to technology would have to be rediscovered in order to compensate for the loss of the global CCT network. Though Victorian era technology is still considered considerably more advanced than anything produced by the kingdoms at the time of the Second Great War, all of the research and most of the tech that had been developed during that time had been destroyed in the previous Great War, and were lost to the people. As such, whilst local kingdom-wide CCTnets still existed in their local regions, cross-continental communication would be achieved by ancient radios and supercomputers the size of rooms, having not seen usage since before the technological innovations of the Victorian era, and in the absence of radios, settlements and cities would have to send messages via messengers and letters, of which sometimes would take weeks, and even months, to travel from one side of the world to the other.
That was not the only thing that was lost, though.
In its immediate aftermath, the true cost of the Surge had become clear: An entire fifth of the global population had been either killed by the Ascendant Court, or captured and taken away to the Lands of Darkness.
Twenty million people were gone.
But, in spite of all of the hardships and the destruction, a new spirit of unity began to rise from within the people of the kingdoms. Despite all of the divisions and splits that still plagued them, a sense of solidarity- Of shared burden and survival- Gave new rise of purpose to the people of Remnant.
Soon, the old kingdoms would fade away...
And would give rise to the New Dawn.
(Of course, this wasn't helped at first by their leader, Jaune Arc, collapsing as soon as the Battle of Mantle was over.
A rocky start indeed.)
Excerpt from Tales from the Front
So it ends the same way that it began... With you, here, in a deep sleep, with me to keep you company.
…
…
…
…
Don't worry. You're not dead. Not yet, at least. You are a hard person to kill by nature alone.
Don't mistake that for a threat. It is a compliment, sincere to its very core.
As am I.
I have lied to you before, this I know, but-
You still haven't told me who you are.
…
…
…
…
No, I haven't.
Don't worry. In time, you will know.
But for now?
You have places to be.
Four days after the Battle of Mantle...
One would think that coming back to life would be a sudden experience, but for the many cases of Jaune Arc, it was a slow and steady process.
His world was a blue void, empty of life and thought, gravity pressing down on him on all sides as sharpened slices of metal cut and carved into his body, punishing him for his sins as he laid unresponsive in the nothingness.
This surely was Hell, not a world of fire and brimstone, but just sheer emptiness. Lost potentials and hopes and dreams drifting endlessly in the darkness, coloured in a sorrow shade of cerulean to reflect the despair of all that had been lost and forgotten.
But then he felt his heart beat in his chest, and he realised, with a rush of sadness, that he was still alive.
Whoever was up there, in the heavens, be it the God of Light, his opposite, or some other deity that he either knew or didn't know anything about... They were not done with him yet. They were not done cutting his spirit and soul into pieces- His hope and optimism- And seeing what cruel despair they could make from the pieces.
His finger twitched. He still had a body then, at least. A body covered in scars and wounds, no doubt, but it was still his body. That was a good sign.
The slimy feeling of what felt like gel smothering him came next, along with the cold air puffing into his mouth and nose through the plastic suction clamped around his mouth. The stinging, cutting, and pressing of tiny metal hands and blades came next, along with the itching of needles threading stitches into his body, closing his wounds and graphing flesh back together like sinew graphed the meat to the bone.
Next came the trickle and flash of memory, pooling into his mind before cementing themselves into place. First came the memory of his name, then who he was, and then his entire life, all the way from his birth over seventeen years ago, to the now, stopping at points and areas of most importance, such as him and Viola finally completing their first video game playthrough ever and the hug that they had shared afterwards, to his winning of his favourite Pumpkin Pete onesie, to his first home burning to the ground and his father dying, to the Initiation Massacre, to the investigation in Vale, to the Sleeping City, and then finally ending in Atlas and in Amity, all the way until the pain circulating through his body and suppressed by adrenaline and the sheer force of will alone had left him once the battle was ended, and he had collapsed to the ground.
And then came the pain. The flash of realisation and the rush of fresh adrenaline filled his body, along with the sudden swarming pain of the needles threaded in his close wounds and the blunt aching pain that came from paved-over flesh and blood, calcium stabbed into bones and the realisation that he was drowning and yet still breathing in a thick sludge that wanted to suffocate him and-
Someone outside his inky prison shouted, but he didn't hear them as he thrashed about in the murky azure prison, pounding his fists and feet on the glass before fishy droids swam into the top of his prison and the sludge-like water began to drain out of its bottom, lowering him to the ground before dropping him on the ground. In a flash of instinct, he retched off the mask that had been feeding him oxygen from his mouth, dangling in the air attached to its long cord as the circular wall of the glass tank around him retracted into the ceiling, exposing his wet skin to the cold air outside. Goosebumps covered his skin as he looked up, through tired eyes and laboured breaths, to see a ginger-haired girl in a pink shirt and white jogging bottoms with a white hospital apron over them looking down at him with an equally tired expression on her face.
Nora smiled at him, the hospital gown and shirt that she was wearing hiding all of her old wounds and scars, and Jaune couldn't help but send her a tired smile back.
"Jaune..." she began.
"Yeah?"
"You're alive..."
He didn't have any time to ask anything else as she quickly jumped at him and, despite being covered in a thin layer of healing gel, caught him in a tight hug, burying her head in his shoulder and cradling him in her arms.
His soft bones and skin ached under her tight embrace, but even so, Jaune couldn't help but softly return her embrace as he wrapped his own arms around her and rubbed circles on her back, letting her quiet breaths fill the room around them with gentle sound. A hand placed itself on his soft-skinned shoulder, and he looked up to see Lie Ren- Wearing a hospital apron over a green shirt and black slacks- Looking down at him with a reassuring smile, and he sent his teammate one of his own.
"You're alive..." he heard Nora softly mutter in his shoulder once as she held him close, "Thank god you're alive..."
"...I'm glad you're okay too," Jaune quietly cooed back to her as they held each other, a soft whine of comfort leaving Nora as he turned his head up and-
The memories of the Battle of Mantle returned to him.
"T-The battle!" Jaune went as he untangled himself from Nora- Her grip had been surprisingly weak, even though the grip had hurt around him- And picked himself up in a dizzy hurry, "Got to- Need to get back and-"
A tired breath left him and his legs almost gave out underneath him, but Ren was able to quickly catch him and keep him on his feet- "Easy"- Directing him to one of the chairs nearby and setting him down on it, "There. Take it easy, Jaune. You've been out for a while."
"A while? I-"
"The battle ended when you passed out, remember?"
That memory flashed in his mind, "Y-Yeah... What happened... Did we-"
"Did we win? Yes."
Jaune blinked in surprise, "We... We did?"
Ren nodded, "We did."
"Hah..." Jaune breathed out, before he smiled, "We won!" and jumped up onto his feet and threw his arms into the air, "I can't believe it! We actually- Ow!"
He flinched and brought his right arm down. His unbroken right arm. His aura and the healing gel had done wonders to heal the bone and skin covering them, though it still hurt like all hell, as did the rest of his body. Every pain receptor in his body seemed intent on committing mutiny against him, and it took all of his strength to not collapse to the ground as Nora and Ren helped him back into his seat.
"Thanks guys, I-" he winced at the blunt ache again as he rolled his right arm, then ran a hand over it to feel gentle bumps of swollen muscle and skin underneath. He frowned, before turning to the empty tank bottom nearby, and narrowing his eyes in concentration. The last time that he had been in that thing was two weeks ago, when they had first arrived in Solitas. He had been out for three or four days, or something, and-
…
He had been in another coma, hadn't he?
His third coma.
Dammit, he needed to stop making a habit of this.
And in another healing tank no less.
Oh, how history repeated itself.
"What-" he winced again, "What happened? How long was I... How long was I out for this time?"
"Four days," was Ren's blunt answer.
"Four days?!" it hurt to yell, but Jaune couldn't help himself as he looked to them, "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"The Daughter... Did we get back the relic?"
The relieved looks on Ren and Nora's faces lessened, and Nora shook her head sadly, "She... She got away. Her and the rest of the Ascendant Court escaped... And they took the relic with them."
"...Dammit."
{WHAM}
"Dammit!" Jaune swore again, both in pain from having hit his raw hand against the seat beneath them, and from frustration at what they had lost, "So she still... Even after everything... She still got away... Goddammit..."
"You think that," Nora began to say as her smile grew once more, "But as a trade-off, you- We- Saved three million people. That's worth something, isn't it?"
"...Yeah," Jaune smiled once more, "Yeah, you're- You're right... You're always right."
She really was. Yes, the Daughter had escaped with the Relic of Creation, but the fact that they had all saved more than three million people from the Ascendant Court made the previous point moot. Every life saved was the ultimate victory against the Grimm, and the fact that they had saved so many people meant that whatever the Relic of Creation even was and what that meant for the Daughter, it was ultimately not even worth considering as a loss.
Speaking of losses, though...
Jaune looked down, and saw the metal exo-limb and metal brace around Nora's leg, shimmering blue patches of healing gel threading needles into her skin as Nora shifted her leg to the side upon seeing Jaune looked down at it.
He frowned. So he hadn't been able to heal her leg. Not completely, at least. That was just another regret to add to the list.
"What about... What about you guys?" Jaune finally asked after a long, awkward silence, "What's been going on with you?"
It was Ren who answered with, "We've been... Better. Aside from healing from our own wounds, we've been taking care of the others hospitalised in the ship since it landed."
"'The ship'?"
Ren nodded, "We're in the Argent right now. It parked on the ground once the battle ended, and was turned into a hospital for the injured. We've been serving as volunteer medics ever since, along with a few thousand other people. It..." Ren paused, and his eyes darted downwards, "It helps to keep our minds off of things."
Nora looked to Ren, and put a warm hand on his lap as they both sat in their chairs, before she turned to Jaune again and fished out a scroll from her pocket, "Oh, and Eri's here too! Her body was beyond salvage, but I was able to save her memory drive!" as if on que, the scroll's screen lit up a neon blue, and a round white circle for an eye formed in its centre, looking at Jaune and giving him a cheery chirp through the scroll's speakers.
Jaune laughed, and took the scroll into his hand, "Hey there, Eri."
{BWEEP BOOP BEEP}
\( ^0^ )/
Jaune laughed again, and smiled at the screen. Even if he couldn't understand what the beeps meant, the cheerful intent behind the emoticon was clear.
It was good to know that Eri was still alive, even if her original body was destroyed. There was another good thing to come out of all of this, and even if she was just a droid, that didn't mean that Jaune wanted to lose her any less.
Jaune poked his head up, and looked around. Only one person was missing now.
"Where's Pyrrha?"
…
"Guys, where's Pyrrha?"
Ren and Nora looked to each other with conflicted expression, and to the side, as if they were trying to find their words. Even Eri fell silent, no new messages appearing on the screen, as if she was unsure of what to say.
Jaune's eyes widened, and he began to panic, sucking in a deep breath. Had she... Was Pyrrha...
"Is she-"
"She's not dead," Nora quickly began with, silencing the pit of mournful remorse that had been growing in him, "She's just... She just wants her own company right now... Things have happened, really."
"It's not our place to say," Ren quickly stopped Nora from adding in anything more, "But she just desires to be on her own for the time being."
"...Ah."
Jaune looked down.
"Right."
Wouldn't be the first time that she wanted to be alone, of course.
He moved to get up onto his two feet. Ren and Nora tried to stop him again. His next words cut them off though, "I need to meet up with the others. Robyn, Ransel and Sienna."
"Ransel- Ransel's gone," Nora's hesitantly told him.
"Fuck," he swore, "Fine, Sienna and Robyn. Could you send them a message telling us to meet up somewhere, please? Somewhere other than here. Preferably where we can see what's going on with everyone else- With the people. I'm assuming that there's somewhere around here that we can do that, right?"
"W-Well, yeah, and I can send Sienna a message, and tell her to pass it along to Robyn, but..." Nora paused, "Shouldn't we stay here, where you can recover? And why are you so eager to meet up with them anyways?"
"I need to what's going on outside. I need to know what we still have left."
He took in, and then let out a deep breath.
"And I need to see it for myself."
Ren and Nora had been kind enough to find him a wheelchair, and he apologised to them for his brusqueness. He apologised to his own body as well, as every move that he made was still sore and bluntly painful.
He powered through it, though. He needed to see what the people of Mantle had made for themselves.
As they moved through the corridor, they passed by civilian and soldier- White Wolf, Mandarin, and Mantlian militia- Alike, all of them stopping and staring at them- At him- As they passed by. Jaune and the others waved to them, giving compliments and congratulations for surviving and winning the Battle of Mantle, each one more proud than the last as the boy in the wheelchair looked across those that had lived through the conflict, of all shapes and colours and people, working and living together, disregarding their past allegiances and coming together in the name of making a new future for each other.
That pride in them only grew and swelled when they arrived at the meeting place- The defunct bridge of the Argent- And he looked out of the front viewport to the world down below.
The Argent and Seer Victory Dreadnaughts had landed in flanking positions around the crashed and tilted Gemini, with bridges, cables, and towers constructed between the massive ships to connect them and keep them together. Meanwhile, the remaining Accumulator-class Assault Ships had landed in a circular formation around the three dreadnaughts, and a web of walls made of scraps and salvage was being built between the ships. Within the cornered-off stretch of frozen land that stretched from ship to ship for miles, a vast maze of buildings and houses were being constructed in the shadow of the fallen island of Atlas, made from pilfered scraps and remains of both the old kingdoms of Atlas and Mantle, and the corpses of the many ships that had crashed into the ground from the battles before. Down below, wrecked fighters were taken apart for salvage, and damaged Bullheads and Dropships were being retrofitted into huts and homes for the people that worked on them. Next to the Argent, Jaune could make out the halved remains of a tri-pronged Interceptor cruiser being raised up so that its prongs were pointing into the air like two-hundred meter tall skyscrapers, and its insides were being hollowed out to make what Jaune assumed to be a trio of apartment blocks, whilst the savaged husk of a Liberator-class Capital Ship had been improvised as one of the walls. Meanwhile, hastily repaired Warden-class Support Ships flew to and thro in the air, each one carrying containers of scrap and recovered metal beneath them, ready to deliver them to the growing city below. Through the viewport, Jaune could make out rows and blocks of housing taking shape, roads and footpaths dividing the blocks into sections and districts. People moved up and down the roads in singles and pairs and groups, weaving in and out of houses and shops, and carrying and pulling baskets and carts of parts for more houses and shops to build and populate.
So many people, coming together as one community, making a new future for themselves.
Jaune couldn't be more proud.
Behind them, the door to the bridge opened, and Sienna Khan, Robyn Hill, and a Mandarin in yellow armour, with a cape around his shoulder and an inverted crest on his helmet, entered into the room, a dozen different advisors from the three different factions (He recognised a few of their faces. Buzzbug, Count-Down, Augustus Green, Rebecca Flowers, and so on. It was good to know that they had survived, at least) Following behind them, and Cammie following and closing the door behind them, pushing along a wheelchair that carried a coughing Pietro in its seat.
Sienna shot him a satisfied smile, "You're up. You're awake... You're alive."
Jaune nodded, "Good to see you alive and well too," he turned to the woman next to her, "Robyn," and to Cammie and Pietro behind them, "Cammie, Pietro," Cammie sent him a nod, but Pietro replied with a cough into his fist and a wavy, yet reassuring smile.
Pietro didn't seem to be doing well. Jaune felt his aura bubble inside of him. Perhaps he could help with that.
He turned to the Mandarin in yellow, and upon sensing his confusion, the Mandarin spoke in an elderly masculine voice, "I am Salome Ariti, Head Priest of House of the Winter Shores. I am temporary leader of the Winter Shores until a new leader can be elected via trial by combat," he waved off Jaune's concerned look, "Do not fear, it is nonlethal."
Jaune let out a quiet sigh of relief. That was a good sign, at least.
Not so much about the whole 'Trial by combat' thing.
"Well... Best of luck with that," Jaune wished that he could've thought of something a bit more... Sensitive than that, but he really couldn't think of anything else to say. Kicking himself for saying such a thing (And being unable to read 'Salome Ariti's' expression underneath his helmet), Before deciding to move on and spare a look back out the window, "I see that things have been going well since I was... Put to sleep. Very well, even. You guys have done one hell of a good job in winning that fight."
"You helped too, you daft bugger," Cammie threw out to him from behind Pietro's wheelchair, "Don't forget that."
"I haven't, but the credit isn't all mine. I couldn't have got this far without all of you. None of us could have," he swept his arm over the viewport to the window outside, "Now look at them! The people of Mantle, brought together. Everyone working together. Everyone winning together, and showing the Grimm how strong we really are!"
Nora and Ren looked down at him, and smiled. They had noticed his rise in confidence. So had Jaune. Perhaps helping to win the Battle of Mantle had set straight a few things within himself.
"Yeah, we won," Robyn smiled, "Now we're rebuilding. Taking apart the old ships and scraps leftover from the battle and from the shipyard ruins in the Epos Mountains to build it all up again. A new settlement. A new city. We've been thinking of calling it New Mantle, but a lot of us are still iffy on the name."
"Yeah," the smile on Sienna's face wavered and flickered, the joy draining slowly from her, replaced instead with remorse, just like the others around her, "The price of victory was high, though. Very high. We lost a lot of people, Arc. The Grimm made us bleed hard, and we're still counting our losses. Atlas fell to the ground, and crushed Mantle underneath it, as I'm sure you remember-"
Jaune did. Hell, he was there in Atlas when it went down, right in the belly of the beast.
"-But it killed a lot of people still hiding in them when it went down. We've counted at least a couple thousand so far, but there may be more. It's impossible to tell."
…
Jaune felt a pit grow in his stomach.
There it was. The uncomfortable revelation.
A lot of people- Thousands of people- Had died from Atlas falling to the ground, and he had helped to bring it down. He had ordered it to be dropped onto the Ascendant Court's dreadnaught. He already had blood on his hands before he gave that order, but now he was drowning in it.
But Atlas was already falling beforehand, wasn't it? He had just redirected it- Changed its course of impact. Had there been some way of saving those people? Stopping Atlas' fall? He didn't know, but at the same time, the resistance hadn't had anything that could match the tonnage of the Grimm dreadnaught. Atlas' sheer size had been the only thing that could destroy it. There had been no other option.
But so many people had died because of it, hadn't they? So many people had died because of his decision? What decision? Atlas was already falling to the ground. But it still landed on Mantle and killed so many people. But it was already going to fall on Mantle? Was it, or was it the hole in the middle of Mantle? Maybe, maybe not. If he hadn't ordered the others to take control of Atlas and steer it forwards, they never would've taken out that dreadnaught. But at the same time, so many people wouldn't have had to die. But were they going to die either way. He didn't know. He couldn't know, right?
Ultimately, there was no good solution to the problem that they had faced- No magical outcome that could show him a way out of the fight without any blood spilled. All that he could've done in that position was make the most of a bad situation, and take advantage of the opportunity that had been presented to him...
Right?
…
He wouldn't allow something like that to ever happen again.
He wouldn't let anymore innocent people die because of his mistakes.
Not again.
Never again.
No matter the cost.
(No one noticed his hand scrunching up into a fist. No one but Nora, who spared him a concerned glance.)
"The outer settlements are all gone as well," Sienna continued, "Though by the time the Ascendant Court arrived, they had already been dismantled by the Imperium."
"All killed?" Jaune asked, swallowing down the feeling of disgust in his mouth as he did so.
"Or taken by the Imperium and fed into their army," Robyn added in, before she continued with the explanation, "Most of the civilians in the Victory dreadnaughts survived, thankfully. Most of their casualties came from the Gemini crashing into the ground. The same can't be said for our army, though. Our armed forces got cut down to maybe between half and a third, even if we're being generous. Most of the survivors were Rangers and Mandalins. More experienced soldier," there was a flash of resentment on her face, and a quick look of self-satisfaction on Sienna's, but neither lasted for long.
Jaune decided to move the conversation along before anything started up, "And the people themselves? The ones you rescued?" Nora tapped him on the shoulder, and Jaune sighed, "Sorry, the ones we rescued."
This time it was Salome who spoke up, "Recovering, slowly," he began sagely, his old age showing through his voice alone, "They are battered and wounded, yes, but are on the road to recovery. They are Mantlians. They know adversity, and they know how to survive and come out stronger from it.
Jaune smiled at his words- It was true, what he said. Very true indeed- But then focused himself and asked, "And the Atlesians that we rescued as well? How have they been settling in?"
"Good enough, but there's still some resentment on their parts. They think they deserve better treatment than what they already have. They don't like being treated equally like everyone else," Robyn suppressed a smile and chuckle at Sienna's words, and made no move to discount her opinion, "It seems like they've recovered their sense of rich privilege, at least. Shame."
Jaune frowned, "They're causing problems?"
"Yeah, but hardly anyone's noticed," Robyn cut in with a shrug, "There's so few of them now that we think someone in the Court must've prioritised shipping out Atlesians back to wherever the hell they came from over Mantlians. I don't know, maybe they just didn't like them. There's so few of them that I wouldn't be surprised if out of the three million people that we rescued, only maybe five-thousand or so of them are Atlesians."
Jaune felt a tinge of something stir in his gut. Remorse, yes, and guilt, but for the loss of the Atlesians who had been stolen away, not the loss of Atlas itself. This was certainly a case of prioritising lives over possessions in his mind, but he supposed that a part of him should be sad that Atlas was gone. For eighty years it had been considered the steward of all of Remnant, creating new technologies that brought its people its greatest chance of survival. At least, that was what he had heard about it. It was supposedly the pinnacle of Remnant- The shining beacon, the pillar on which all of Remnant stood. Without the Kingdom of Atlas, all of Remnant would be doomed to fall.
Again, that was what he had heard about it, from all of its broadcasts and propaganda reels that it regularly released about itself on the CCTnet.
But, ultimately, Jaune couldn't find it in himself to mourn the kingdom's loss. Hell, he couldn't even bring it in himself to care.
Atlas hung high like a shining jewel in the sky, but that meant that it cast a wider shadow, and blocked out the sun for all the people below. The kingdom had been a place of corrupt militarism, stomping its boot onto the people below like a child over an anthill. It had corporations to have seats of political power and privatise the lives of the people below, from schools to hospitals, all to net a profit. It had allowed money-hungry men like Jacques Schnee leech their way into their governments and turned a blind eye into his company's harmful practices and his abuses of his own family. It had allowed Ironwood to turn Atlas into a mobile battle station when it was just supposed to be a kingdom. It had allowed monsters like Cinder Ella to take control and turn the kingdom into her own demented fiefdom...
And it had allowed killers and murders to kill Nora's family (Before she was called Nora) And cut off her wings.
No, Atlas was a den of racism, elitism, and corruption. It would not be missed.
"Let them deal with their own problems," Jaune finally said after a few moment's pause, "If they want to stew in their own misery, let them. They're stuck here as much as everyone else, and we've got bigger problems to deal with right now."
Everyone nodded to his words eagerly, "I was just thinking that," Robyn said with a smirk.
"Speaking of more important things, how are we looking at with communications?" Jaune asked as he wheeled his chair away from the viewport, pushing himself further near the middle of the room, and then turning his head to look at Cammie and Pietro in the corner, the elderly man keeping his hand close to his chin as Jaune asked, "I know it's a difficult ask, especially after only four days, but... Do you guys have the CCTnet running, or at least found something that we can use to talk to the other kingdoms?"
"Well, I-"
Pietro stopped, and coughed thrice, each one louder than the last. Jaune frowned, as did everyone else. Jaune asked, "Are you... Pietro, are you okay?"
"Oh, I'm-" {COUGH} "-I'm fine," Pietro said as Cammie handed him a tissue from her pocket for him to wipe his chin with, "My old age is catching up to me, is all."
Jaune blinked, "I... If you need to-"
"I'll be alright, young man" was Pietro's quiet reply, "I'll be alright..." he paused for a moment, much to Cammie's concern above, but then he picked up with, "The CCT relay in Atlas is unsalvageable, unfortunately. I would assume that would be the same for the global CCTnet, but judging from... Past logic," Jaune wasn't too sure as to why he paused, but didn't say anything about it. Pietro continued where he left off, "Any settlements and cities that have survived and have functioning CCT towers should still have local networks for them to rely on, but nothing on a global, or even kingdom-wide, scale. Fortunately, we're... We're..."
Pietro paused, and began to stare off into space, his eyes loosing some of its shine. Jaune looked to him in worry, as did everyone else in the room, and the Techion advisor known as Count-Down reached out to check up on him. Cammie quickly beat him to it though, pressing her arms into his shoulders and gently shaking him, bringing his eyes back into focus as he looked up to her, a gentle smile coming over her face as her rabbit ears twitched atop her head.
Cammie looked up, away from Pietro in his wooden and metal wheelchair beneath her, and continued where her elder had left her, "Yeah, global CCT's buggered to hell and back, and da blueprints to fix da bloody thin' went down with Atlas, so thank fuckidy do da for that."
Pietro hit her hand with his own.
"Eh? Oh, er... Thank heckidy do da for that," Cammie then groused to herself, "Hate havin' to mind me language around you figures of authority... Oh bloody hell," she then picked up her voice again and continued where she left off, "Right now we're lookin' into old methods of communication, but since the Great War, those technologies have been real lost to us. Means that we'll have to use real old methods of transcontinental communication, like radio and messenger."
"Messenger?" it was Robyn who asked this, "You're kidding, right?"
"And radio. Don't forget radio."
"It'll take days for us to get messages around the world with radio and messenger! Possibly even weeks! Hell, maybe even months!"
"Depends on what kind of radios you are using," Sienna pointed out, "And how fast the messengers are."
"Too right there, luv," Cammie pointed out again, "But Robyn's got a bloody good point. All the old radios we once had either went down with Atlas or belong in a flippin' museum. You know how big old scrolls are? S'like putting a brick to the side of yer face! That's what we're working with right now- Pretty much relics now, they are- And the rest of our techie guys are too scared to open up the damn few things that we have left to see how they work in case they break 'em forever!"
"Tell the technicians to do their job or else," Sienna ordered with a harshness in her voice, "We need to have communications established as soon as possible. We cannot afford to waste time just because your fellows are too afraid to do their jobs."
Pietro winced at her words, but Cammie quickly cut in with, "Yeah yeah, sure. They're just bein' finicky, is all. Just being precious," she paused, then continued, "Biggest problem isn't communications, though?"
"The Grimm and Imperium raids? We're handling those with little trouble," Jaune looked confused, so Robyn elaborated for him, "Turns out not all of the Imperium were wiped out by the Grimm during the occupation of Atlas. A few have survived, but by our estimates they only numbering in the bare few dozens, and they've all turned rabid by the Mindbender's destruction. They're like wild animals now, killing anything that they find without hesitation," a wince from her, followed by a shared look of regretful sympathy from everyone in the room, and Robyn continued, "Plus there are Ascendant Court stragglers and leftovers that we've been dealing with on a regular basis, but none of these things are anything that we can't handle," she turned back to Cammie, "So what is the problem?"
"The problem is that we don't know what the state of the world is outside of Solitas," Cammie answered, "Hell, we don't even know if his- Your," she corrected as she looked at Jaune, "We don't know if your message even got out to the rest of the flippin' world. For all we know, we're all that's left of, well, anyone and everyone."
It was a disturbing thought, but it wasn't one that Jaune hadn't considered before, and he had good reason to suspect that everyone in the room had thought the same as well. There was the possibility that the message that they had sent hadn't reached the ears of the world, and as such, the rest of the kingdoms hadn't rallied together and had fallen. Then there was the possibility that they had received the message, but had all been destroyed anyways.
Then again, there was the possibility that they had all got the message and won against the Grimm, or were at least still holding out against them. Or maybe they had already won and didn't need the message. It was just Jaune talking, after all. In hindsight, it either wouldn't have been enough, or it was just never needed. The people of all the other kingdoms would be dusting away their homes of the dirt and grime on the walls after successfully turning away the Grimm, look up onto the screens around them, and wonder what the silly looking boy with blond hair and armour was worrying about, seeing as they had already won.
He liked to think that it was the last option, but unfortunately it was hard to tell. However, he wouldn't allow himself to think like that. He wouldn't allow himself to think pessimistically. Someone needed to be the source of optimism in the room.
"Let's not go down that road," Jaune said to Cammie, attempting to ease their concerns, "It's only been a week since the attacks. Well, a week and a half, but that's not long enough for the Grimm to stamp out all resistance across the world. Even if the kingdoms are gone, there will be others fighting back."
"How can you be certain?" it was Robyn who asked that.
"We survived for long enough to fight back."
"Only because the Ascendant Court let us."
"True, true," Jaune didn't dismiss her concerns, "But I don't think she counted for your faction of fighters surviving in Mantle, though."
"Maybe, maybe not," Robyn shrugged, "I have the feeling that she just didn't care about my fighters in Mantle."
Salome, the resident Mandarin, tilted his helmet towards her at her comment. It took Jaune a brief moment to remember that most of Robyn's fighters in Mantle during the Ascendant Court's occupation were Mandarins from the Winter Shore. Whatever caused the (Presumably) Elderly man to tilt his head towards Robyn like that had been something that she had said. Maybe it was about how the Daughter hadn't regarded his fellow warriors (Was this priest even a warrior? He was dressed in the armour, even if it was augmented, so he would assume so) As worthy of any sort of fight (From the reports that he and the rest of the resistance's high command had read from the Mandarins in Mantle back in the Epos Mountains, the Ascendant Court's forces seemed to regard those still fighting in Mantle as little more than a nuisance, so maybe his pride had been wounded on their behalf. However, it could also be how Robyn had referred to his fellows as her fighters instead of theirs, or even his. 'His' referring to Salome, of course.
It had to be either of those two points, but considering the fact that the Mandarin priest still had his helmet on, it was hard to tell what his expression was, so that made it difficult to come to a conclusion. Then again, Jaune had never been very good at reading people's expressions, so it probably wouldn't have made a difference. No, it definitely wouldn't have made a difference.
Regardless, it would be best to nip this little gesture in the bud before it evolved into a problem. This was a time for everyone to be working together, not separated by petty grudges. He wouldn't allow that to happen again.
"I'm sure that you did the best you could," he said to Robyn, making sure that Salome was looking at her- Making sure that he was paying attention- When he then said, "You and the warriors that fought alongside you."
Robyn looked confused for a second, but her eyes darted to Salome at her side for a moment, and her expression shifted to an... Well, the look on her face made it clear to even him of all people that she knew he had only said that to appease Salome, but she didn't seem to hold it against him (He must've been wearing an expression that gave it away. He missed his helmet, and understood why Salome was wearing it: To hide his expression from the others. Made it easier to express his emotions). The sudden flexing of Salome's hands seemed to indicate that he knew as well, but his head, covered by his numinous helmet, still tilted up to briefly look up to the viewport behind him, suggesting that he was preening at the compliment. The comment had had it's intended effect, it would seem, though for better or worse, he couldn't tell.
However, it made it clear that Jaune didn't have as much experience in the realm of politics than he would've liked. He was suddenly reminded of his time with Winter Schnee in Vale, and how he had been greatly confused by the politics of the situation between Vale and Atlas, as well as, well, everything else regarding that situation, like the conscription law, the differences between the White Wolves and the Acolytes, their war against the SDC, the workings of the Atlesian army, and so on. Hell, he was still confused by it all. The politics of the kingdoms and the various groups within it just seemed so petty, so pointless. He briefly wondered what happened to Harriet Bree after all that mess, and if she was still milling around in Vale's prison, or if...
Or if she had escaped in the chaos of the Grimm's global assault.
He severely hoped it was the latter. Harriet Bree didn't seem like the type to let go of a grudge.
Some part of him chuckled internally, and he discovered that, regardless of his weak grasp of politics and how to command others, he was much better at this diplomacy stuff than he was at fighting. Maybe he should take an early retirement from fighting- From the Huntsman life- And become a diplomat, negotiating peace treaties and the like.
…
Nah, he had already invested too much into becoming a Huntsman, and he had too many debts to pay to make him abandon it.
Jaune decided that it would be best to move on, for now, and said, "Regardless, there are other people out there. More people fighting. The tighter the Ascendant Court keeps its grip on Remnant, the more rebels and insurrectionists that slip through its fingers."
Nearby, Sienna nodded. That was too be expected, of course. She had been fighting a rebellion of sorts for years now, and she was surely more educated than him in the history of the Rights Revolution and the various Faunus movements that had fought during that conflict, and the many conflicts beforehand. The same could be said for Salome, as well as Buzzbug behind them.
"That's why we need to get communications online, whatever that communication system might be," he continued as he leant back into his wheelchair, "The sooner we make contact with the others scattered across the world- No matter what shape they might be in- The better."
Cammie let out a sigh, "Right," she muttered, turning her head down to look at Pietro in the wheelchair beneath her as he briefly coughed again, and then looking upwards and going, "We'll see what we can do, as long as we aren't getting buggered by anymore baddies trying to kill us, both inside and out," she aimed that last comment at Robyn specifically as she shot a look to her.
Robyn met that comment as a challenge, "I'm already performing checks and inspections on all our guards and workers as we speak. We won't be caught off-guard again."
"Not by traitors?"
"Not at all."
"We were betrayed by Ascendant Court spies before," Cammie pointed out, "All because you didn't ask the right flippin' questions."
Jaune remembered that, and how she had asked him more questions than the others when they were bringing his team into their hideout in Mantle, due to his face being plastered on every screen in the city. It felt so long ago, now. Funny how fast things go when you're fighting for your life.
Still though, this was another argument that he needed to end before it began, "I'm sure that Robyn is doing the best that she can, Cammie," he said before the two of them could go off on each other, "But her concerns are legitimate, Robyn. Make sure that you ask more specific questions than before."
"I know that," Robyn seemed a little offended.
"I know that," Jaune said to appease her, "Believe me, I do, but Cammie is right: We can't afford another spy trying to sneak in and wreck shop. Not again. You need to be precise with your questions. Better than you were before. That's all that I'm asking of you."
"...Right," Robyn said, her tone of voice quietening as she looked to the side, "Of course."
Jaune was surprised that she was listening to her. Hell, he was surprised that any of them were listening to her. He seemed to command some sort of respect over them, even though he was younger and not as experienced as them.
Hm.
Weird.
However, a topic quickly came over her mind, "Speaking of turncoats, where's Rui Sara? I never got the chance to thank her for helping us take control of Amity during the battle."
Nobody looked at him.
"...Guys?" his voice began to grow quiet, "What happened to Sara?"
Her blade cut through another Disciple, and she swallowed down the pill of bitter despair at the thought of killing the people that had once been her own.
She was starting to grow tired of the killing.
She looked down at the dying Grimm beneath her, seeing its confusion, its anger, its despair, mirroring her own, and in an act of mercy, she pulled her blades from its bloodied chest- Its skin ruptured and torn open, its bones ripped and jutting out of its chest, revealing the beating red organs mixed with the inky black skin underneath- And thrust them into its wide, single shaking eye, red flaming puss and black blood foaming out and splattering against her as the blades stabbed through its brain behind its eye, and killed it instantly, its limbs going still, and its body beginning to dissipate and fade away.
The Disciple disintegrated beneath her, and Rui Canaan released her hold over Sara, her eyes shifting from red to blue as Sara was granted control of their body once more, and she collapsed to the ground, tired and wheezing, her arm blades smeared with fading black blood. She looked around, and saw the dozen fading black bodies around her, turning to smoke and ash as the last vestiges of who they once were- Disciples, Barons, A Juggernaut and Long-Shot, and even a pair of Priests- Disappeared from the world.
The bomb-collar around her neck itched once more, but she successfully resisted the urge the scratch them- She didn't even have the energy to lift her arms anymore- As a chain was attached to the back of her collar, and she was dragged back behind the wall nearby like a chunk of dead meat, preserved in the snowy cold of the world around her.
"Traitor," someone- She didn't know who- Said as she was pulled behind the wall, her feet trailing uselessly behind the snow as a wad of spit from an angry fighter that she didn't recognise splattered against her rag dress. She craned her neck to the side to try and relieve the itch, but a glare from another fighter made it clear to her that anymore wrong moves would mean that she would loose her head, just like many of the dead Grimm outside.
Sara didn't blame them, in her own childish way. She had helped the people (Who had been nothing but nice to her) That were trying to wipe out all human life as they know it, and remake it in their image. Death was a more suitable punishment in her mind, but this?
This would have to do.
She wondered how long she was going to live like this- How much longer she would have left to live in general. She didn't mind dying, but that didn't necessarily mean that she wanted to. She wanted to live- Of course she did- And she wanted it to be for as long as possible, but now...
Now she just wouldn't mind sleeping.
She just wouldn't mind sleeping forever.
She just wished that the nice boy was her to see her off and-
"What is this?"
That voice...
That familiar voice...
Did she dare...
Did she dare hope?
With all of the energy left in her, she tilted her head to the side... And saw a blond-haired boy in a wheelchair, hastily covered in warm wear and a cloak, as he stared at the small girl on the ground with angst written all over his face.
Her lidded, tired eyes widened.
It was him!
It was the nice boy!
"That's a bomb-collar around her neck," he said as he turned to a dark-skinned woman besides her- The dark-skinned woman with the semblance that told her wherever she was telling a truth or a lie- And ragefully asked, "Why is there a bomb-collar around her neck!?"
"She was an Ascendant Court spy."
"She defected!"
"After she helped the Ascendant Court attack Mantle."
"Oh my- What did she even do?! I can't even remember, I think she was just there! She was helping up throughout- Well, pretty much throughout all of it! She helped us infiltrate Atlas! Hell, she was the reason that we were able to take control of Atlas! Without her we wouldn't have been able to get past the Grimm's biotech, and our entire plan would've fallen apart at the seems!"
"Didn't she attack you in Amity?"
"How did- When did that happen?!"
The hammer girl (Without her hammer) Piped up with, "I did. I'm sorry, but... But I thought it was the right thing to do. There needs to be some sort of-"
"Punishment? Is that what the bomb-collar is for!?"
"..."
The nice boy groaned, "Get it off her."
The dark-skinned woman with the folded-up crossbow on her arm looked to him incredu- What was the word? Incredulous? Incredulously? That was the word. The child known as Sara was slightly proud of herself for remembering such a big word- Incredulously, "What?! You're kidding! She was an Ascendant Court spy!"
"She's a child!"
"She needs to be-"
"Punished!? She's, what? Twelve years old, for god's sake?!" he sent the woman a level look that was somewhat threatening, "Is this how we treat our heroes? By shackling them to bombs and turning them into slaves?! For fuck's sake, you might as well be showing her the door back to the Ascendant Court with this kind of treatment! Treating a child as a slave- Treating anyone as a slave- Makes us no better than the Court, or the Imperium!" he reached up and harshly jabbed his finger into her side, "And this is something that you and Sienna started this resistance to fight against, is. It. Not?"
The woman with the crossbow on her arm looked away, her expression hidden from both of them.
"You've already asked her about her change of heart, right? About her turn of allegiances? You've already used your semblance to get as much as you can out of her?"
The crossbow girl nodded, but didn't say anything.
The nice boy turned away from her, and then to the gaggle of fighters surrounding Sara, "Then let her go."
One of the fighters snorted, "Yeah right."
"Get that damned thing off her, or I'll do it myself."
It was obvious that these people somehow didn't know who the nice boy was, considering how they had just started laughing at someone who was incredibly well-respected within the walls of the settlement. Either that, or it was because he was in a wheelchair and they thought they could get away with it, despite the fact that they had surely just watched him talk down the woman with the crossbow, despite herself being in a position of leadership much longer than he had. Or maybe they just thought that they were better than him on principle below. Considering the fact that they obviously had more brawn than brains, it was starting to seem like the latter.
"Or what?" the head fighter said, tapping his spear against the ground with a mocking smile on his face, "This little shit is a traitor to us all, and you're in a wheelchair."
"She's a child."
"I don't care."
"I'll stop you from hurting her anymore."
The fighter just tugged at her chain, "Oh yeah? What're you going to do?"
Then, the nice boy did something quite remarkable:
He stood.
In a split second (With a quick groan of exertion from the boy) He was up on his feet, robes and warm wear fallen to the ground as his clenched fists shook slightly in the cold air and snow, nails digging into his hands as he glared at the thuggish guards ahead of him with narrowed blue eyes.
His reply was even colder than Solitas itself, "What will I do indeed?"
These fighters may have more brawn than brains, but even the lead one seemed to have the intelligence to realise that this is not a battle that he could win. Well, really, he and his goons could win that fight (No matter how tall and broad he tried to stand, the nice boy couldn't hide his fresh frailty) But it seemed like he didn't know that, at least.
A seemingly crippled person suddenly rising from their wheelchair has a tendency to rattle the brain, after all.
The lead fighter stepped back, dropped his spear, and ran.
The others followed suit.
The nice boy sighed, and his body deflated, shoulders slumping downwards as he hobbled towards her. Each step that he took seemed to be incredibly painful, like the dull ache of a hammer bruising the skin, or the sharp twist of a knife cutting through flesh (Both Sara and Canaan had much experience with the latter). No one else made a move.
He walked over to her, each step on shaking legs and paled feet, and knelt down in the snow next to her, "Hang on," his hands reached out and hoisted her up onto her knees, before beginning to fiddle with the collar around her throat, "Let me see if I can-"
Sara's hands, tired as they were, grabbed onto his, "Leave it there."
The nice boy blinked, "Sara-"
"I'm being punished. This is my punishment."
He frowned, "This is slavery."
"It's my punishment."
"No it isn't. It's unjust. It's torture."
"I helped to hurt so many people."
"You helped to save so many more."
"This is what I deserve."
"No it isn't!" the nice boy repeated himself, more loudly this time though, "This is wrong! This is horrific! You don't deserve this at all!"
"Yes I do!" was Sara's reply, "I was horrible! I was terrible! I helped the Ascendant Court, didn't I? I went along with all of her plans!"
"Because you didn't know better. Because you didn't know the people you were fighting again, but now you do!"
"Words," Sara sank into herself despite not letting go of his wrists, "Just words. Hollow, meaningless words... That's all that you're saying."
She let go of his wrists, and slumped downwards.
"Just leave it on... And let it kill me... It's not like my death would matter-"
The nice boy grabbed her by the shoulders, and pulled her up to his eyelevel, a stern look across his face.
Huh?
"Don't," was the harsh, yet kind reply from the boy as he held her close to him, "Don't. You matter, and you don't deserve this. Your life has worth, do you understand me? You matter. You. Matter. You are important. You are a hero," he freed one of his hands to gesture at the collar around her throat, "And you don't deserve this... No one does."
He poked her in the chest.
"You matter, okay. To me, you matter. You mean the whole world to me, as do so many other people, and... And the whole world owes you a debt that I don't think can ever be repaid... But I'm damn well going to try."
Sara's eyes began to widen at his words. They weren't much, and there were so few of them, but there was so much meaning behind them that she just couldn't put into words. So much sadness, so much regret, so much warmth and care, all of it directed at her.
Or was it?
Because deep down, in some dark pit of Sara's mind, something raised it's voice- That something sounding suspiciously like Canaan- And asked:
Who are you talking to?
Is it me you're trying to convince...
Or yourself?
"I don't expect to change your mind with just one conversation," his voice quietened, "I don't really expect to change anything at all. But... I want you... I would like you... To at least give me a chance."
"..."
"Please?"
"..."
With an unhealthy degree of scepticism coursing through her, she looked up at him through tilted eyes, searching for any signs of falsehood and lie, only to find none...
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
She tilted her head to the side, and allowed him access to the collar around her throat.
The nice boy sighed, "Thank you," and continued his fiddling with the bomb-collar.
A few tense seconds later, the lights on the collar flickered off, and its separated into two halves, the chain detaching from the metal ring and clattering onto the floor, as did the two gunmetal grey crescents that had once choked her like an executioner's vice.
The nice boy blinked in surprise. He obviously hadn't expected it to separate so easily (Sara could've easily escaped from the collar around her neck, but had simply chosen not too). Or maybe he had half-expected it to explode in his hands. One was more humorous than the other.
But that wasn't what Sara was focused on.
As soon as the metal half-rings thudded against the icy ground below, Sara leapt at the nice boy-
The others behind them began to reach for their weapons-
-And wrapped her arms around his torso, her arm blades falling off her wrists and cluttering onto the floor as well.
-Only to lower them a few seconds later as the nice boy's handwaved request.
She didn't say 'Thank you', though.
Not yet.
Because if what this boy said was true... If what this boy was saying to her came to pass...
Then would be the time for thanks.
But for now?
For now, this would have to be enough.
Five days after the Battle of Mantle...
{CLASH}
{CLANG}
{CARVE}
The sounds of battle in the pit below continued to invade Jaune's ears, but despite that, he paid no attention to it. He had no interest in the fight below, nor did he have any to begin with.
Fighting had lost its lustre.
He had always dreamed about participating in great battles when he was younger- When he was just a boy. Raising his sword high and leading armies into battle, defeating greater monsters and presenting their heads to the people below to rejoice to, and cutting through evil with his blade and vanquishing the demons and devils from the world.
The work of a hero.
Now, whenever even the concept of fighting came up, it just made him feel ill.
Though he might've once seen the honour in fighting, much like the Mandarins of the Winter Shores and many of the Hunters back in Beacon did, now he just couldn't see the point of it. Combat itself had lost whatever shine it once had. He was repulsed by it, sickened to the core.
Being almost killed multiple times, and being thrown into three consecutive comas by it tended to do that to a person.
He had seen war. Not the baby cartoon imaginings of conflict, nor the fairy tale romantic fantasies of the art (If the mass slaughter and suffering of thousands could even be called an art). No, he had seen real war, and shed real blood, both his own and others. There was no honour to the act, no glory or justice.
It was just violence. Senseless, pointless violence.
So he didn't pay attention to the battle below (He at least took solace that it wasn't to the death) And asked Salome next to him, "Er, Salome, was it? Do you mind explaining to me how this... Trial by combat thing actually works, please? I know that the winner of this fight is the one who takes control, but I've been told that there are other steps to it."
Next to him, in her seat, Sara perked her head up from the bowl of popcorn in front of her, and seemed to curious about how the process of the White Wolves selecting a new leader worked as well. He spared a moment to ruffle her hair, resulting in her giving him a shy smile. At least her mood was picking up a bit more. A stark contrast to yesterday, surely.
They, along with Nora, Ren, and the other major leaders in the resistance (Could it even be called a resistance anymore? In the settlement, that was a much better term for it) Were sitting in a section of the hastily constructed arena near the outskirts of the growing city-that-they-still-hadn't-named-yet, separated by several seats from the rest of the people of Mantle by a row of Mandarin guards on both sides. Jaune, Nora, Robyn, and a few others hadn't liked the idea of being separated from the people that they had fought to defend like that- They felt like it defeated the point of doing away with divisions and wanted to intermingle with those same people- But it was deemed too much of a security risk for them to do so, and so the division was made.
He made note of the Mandarins that were throwing helmeted glances to Sara next to him.
The arena itself was small, hastily constructed and designed to be taken apart after a day, with clamps and bolts keeping the slotted metal together, and upwards-scaled rocks and plastic acting as the seats for the hundred other civilians and workers on their breaktimes to watch the fight below, in a circle of welded together metal surrounded by fencing, almost like a wrestling cage fight for the combatants below.
Jaune was surprised that someone had been able to find a popcorn machine, though- That person who was behind it was currently making a killing on selling the stuff with what passed as currency in the settlement, being metal scraps and food- But rumour had it that a couple of workers from the Epos Mountains had found it in one of the warehouses and stowed it away on one of the Victory dreadnaughts, before popping on the closest thing to a telly that they had down there (Being the viewport to the Battle of Mantle outside), Turning on the popcorn maker, kicking their feet up, and then sitting back to watch the fireworks.
Lazy buggers.
Salome looked at him with what seemed like eager eyes (He was no longer wearing his helmet, allowing Jaune to see his dulling brown eyes and greyed, frizzled hair that was cut into a thin widow's peak) At the possibility of explaining the practices of his culture to another, and he answered, "Why, I would be glad to, my boy."
He gestured his hands to the arena below. Jaune didn't turn his gaze away from him.
"Those two fighters down below? The Winter Shores do not immediately send competitors for leadership down into the pits to fight for the position. First, they must prove that they have the mental and physical strength, as well as the mental character, necessary to lead. As such, each candidate that steps forward is placed under an investigation, where the elders of the Winter Shores explore their pasts, and all of their deeds, from their records of battle to their previous positions of leadership."
Jaune nodded, and asked, with the best comparison that he could come up with, "So... Like how an employer looks up the social media profiles of an interviewee before they meet?"
Salome looked at him for a few moments with a weird expression, before he tilted his head to one side and went, "For lack of a better term, yes."
Jaune hummed. He could practically feel Sara peering past him to the Mandarin priest, but he didn't mind it, "Then what happens?"
"Once the candidates have had their past lives investigated, and those who have either not done enough for the house, or have done terrible things that do not benefit the house, have been removed from the selection," Salome continued (Jaune tried to ignore that Salome had said 'Terrible things that do not benefit the house' instead of 'Terrible things' in general), "Then the remaining candidates are brought forth before the elders and put through numerous tests, each one based around a different quality that the leader of the Mandarins needs: First, their physicality, and if they are strong enough to ride into battle with those that are supposed to follow them, then their intelligence, and if they have the tactical and political knowledge to outsmart our enemies, and finally their morality, and wherever they have the honour and moral character to lead the Mandarins to glory."
Jaune blinked. Huh. There was... A lot more to the Winter Shores when it came to picking a new leader than he had previously assumed. And here, when he had heard that the process of picking a new leader was settled in the arena, he had thought it was just survival of the fittest and the rule of the strongest. But no, there was an entire process behind it. Go figure.
"Once the candidates have been narrowed down to just a few remaining candidates- Those with the strength, honour, intelligence, and proper moral character, gathered to compete for leadership- Those candidates are introduced to each other, and given time to learn about each other and get along. They are encouraged to form bonds and develop friendships with each other."
Jaune blinked again, "Really?"
"Really," was Salome's retort, "It wouldn't be good for the losers of this competition to grow jealous and spiteful of each other, thus dividing the Winter Shores and tearing the faction apart now, would it?"
Jaune shook his head, "No... No it wouldn't."
"It doesn't always work, of course," Salome commented, a growing sense of grief in his voice, "Not always... We've had cases of civil wars, both major and minor, fought by those greedy for power, and there are always those who slip through the cracks, but when it works," a smile came over his mouth, "It works perfectly."
Jaune paused, considering his words. Eventually, he found them, and asked, "What was... What was Ransel like, then? Before the Imperium's takeover of Atlas?"
Ransel Torban had been... Well, he had been kind of a coward when JNPER had arrived in Solitas, hiding his people and himself away from the frontlines and refusing to go out into the warfront himself. If the leader of the Mandarins was supposed to lead their people on the frontlines, then why had Ransel been put in charge? Yes, he made up for it in the end with him ramming the Aslyo into the Grimm flotilla and destroying them all, but how had he been put into power in the first place?
Salome seemed to understand his confusion at the fact, and replied with, "He was brave. Strong. Honourable. A strong moral code and wish to do the right thing A true warrior. Something for all Mandarins to look to, in stark contrast to the leaders before... At first," a sad sigh left him, "When he was brought into power in the pits of our first home, the elders that chose him were rife with apathy, greed, and corruption. Our legacy had been stained by siding with the slave-state of Mantle during the First Great, and then choosing no side during the Rights Revolution. Many of our leaders after the Great War were in line with this corruption, easily manipulatable and mailable to their desires... But not Ransel. The elders thought that he would be as useful a tool as their previous lackeys, but as soon as he came to power, he exposed the corruption of the elders and banished them, and began to extend a hand of friendship to the impoverished people of Mantle. It was why, when the Second Great War began, many citizens chose to run to the Winter Shores instead of going out on their own."
Another sad sigh.
"But when the Imperium's takeover of Atlas began, and our first home was bombed... Ransel witnessed it all, and something snapped. Something broke inside of him. He had caught a glimpse of true war, and it had destroyed him," Salome looked up to the sky, as if in mourning, "I believe that Ransel had redeemed himself, and brought glory to our gods, but to see such a soul broken by the conflict before them..."
"...it's a terrible sight," Jaune finished for him, looking up into the sky as well, peering through the light pollution to the twinkling stars above.
"Indeed."
An uncomfortable silence passed over them, interrupted by the harsh sounds of battle above, but the quiet between the two drowned it out as Jaune began to count stars, if the stars were looking down on them in turn.
Then, Salome cut through the silence with, "Something like this should've taken months for us to prepare and work through, not a few days... There are so few of us left now," he was truly beginning to sound his age.
"...Yeah," Jaune couldn't help but breathe out. It was the truth, and he couldn't deny that.
He wondered how many Mandarins still remained living in the world. Heck, he wondered how many people were still alive now, after all of this, across the world, beyond Solitas's borders? Millions? Thousands? Hundreds? Only a few dozen? One? None?
It was difficult to muse about.
Jaune felt a pair of hands tug at his arm sleeve, and looked to the side to see Sara looking up at him with a child's look of concern across her, her popcorn bowl empty as she observed him with uncertain eyes.
Jaune sent her a smile, and ruffled the top of the head. Sara giggled in turn, and sent her sights back on the fight below.
He chuckled. Sara seemed to have an awareness for when he needed a pick-me-up. At least they had that going for them.
"I'm worried," that voice came from behind them, and he looked to see Sienna and Robyn sitting next to each other, the former leaning forward and resting her chin on her fingers as she continued, "We should be building up our strength and fortifying our new home, and yet we're busying ourselves with gestures like..." she waved her hand to the arena below, "This."
Salome looked at her, slightly incensed, "This is tradition. Our tradition. To deny it would be sacrilege."
"I am aware of that," Sienna retorted, "But that doesn't mean that we couldn't have pushed it to a later date... When we're much less stable as a people."
Jaune's eyebrows raised at the hidden implication, "You're planning on staying?"
"You aren't?"
Truthfully, no. Jaune wasn't planning on staying. This place... He would honestly like to be as far away from this place as possible. Too much had happened in Solitas. Too much for him to stomach any longer.
Too much death... Just like in the Emerald Forest.
Whatever expression he had on his face seemed to communicate the point well enough to Sienna, as she nodded understandingly and said, "No, I won't be staying here. Once everything is... Settled here in Solitas- In this city that we are building- Then I will be on my way back to Menagerie... And I will be taking Whitley Schnee with me."
Jaune blinked, then frowned, "Why?"
"Why am I taking Whitley with me? I am hoping that a few friends of mine will adopt him," Sienna replied earnestly, "I don't think I have the patience for a child."
A worried look came over him, "And... What about the alliance?"
"I have no intention to abandon our alliance, even if I wish to return home," was Sienna's reply, "It still holds, and I have every intention to make sure it stays that way."
…
Okay.
That was good.
That was very good.
Jaune let out a sigh that he didn't know he'd been holding, and said, "That's good, that's good. Really good, in fact. With whatever resources you've got, combined with the Mandarins and this city, we could start bringing other groups into the alliance. This could be the start of something permanent."
Sienna nodded.
And yet, Jaune couldn't help but frown, "But that's not why you're worried, is it? Not completely at least, right?"
"...No," Sienna acquiesced, "I'm worried about who else survived alongside us out in the wild... And who might be coming back."
"You mean the Ascendant Court? The Daughter?" Jaune asked, swallowing down the brief flicker of fear in his gut as he replied, "That's a legitimate concern. If the Court came back for a third round, so soon after the last... I'm not sure if how many we would loose in that fight. Hell, Hephaestus coming back is a legitimate concern as well."
He didn't think that they would lose, though. With the people of Solitas at his back, he doubted that they could ever lose. Not easily, at least.
Then again, considering that the Daughter had the Relic of Creation now, and what he had seen it to be capable of in Amity... The Daughter had the capacity to create a weapon that could destroy them all in a single strike, and that terrified him greatly.
"Legitimate concerns, yes," Sienna broke him out of his thoughts as she continued, "But not the only ones. I am also concerned about the remnants of Atlas, assuming that there are any... And Ironwood."
Jaune blinked. Truthfully, he had forgotten about the possibility of the Atlesian military sent out of Solitas returning... But- "Ironwood? What about him?"
"Ironwood's semblance is called Mettle," Robyn finally joined in the conversation, "It's a Headmaster semblance. It hyper-focuses his mind on certain decisions that he feels are right, and strengthens his resolve to carry them out, lessening the consequences of those actions on his mind."
Sienna nodded grimly, and before Jaune could ask about anything, she said, "And he is an Atlesian patriot, through and through."
…Ah.
Now Jaune could see the problem.
"Ironwood's a bull-headed sort of man," Robyn continued, "Who always believes that he's in the right, no matter what. And thanks to his semblance, he has the mental means to see every action through, no matter how dubious it might be."
Hm...
Jaune remembered how Ironwood had allowed him to participate in the investigation of the vigilante murderer, and how he had been nothing but polite to him because of it.
But at the same time, he remembered the cannons that had been built into the underside of Atlas, and...
"Like it?" Cinder's wide smile returned to her face. It appeared that her ego had been given a good boost by the Daughter's surprise. It seemed that it was time for her to brag again, "Ironwood is a paranoid man, you see. He began the instillation of hundreds of cannons, similar to the Liberators, into Atlas, alongside the artificial generators, to protect against an invasion such as this, years ago. I merely finished their construction when I rose to power," she laughed, "I suppose I have that much to thank the man for, even if it was I who completed the task for him."
…
Jaune didn't know wherever Cinder was lying or not, but from what these two were telling him, it wasn't painting a good picture, and he didn't have any reason not to trust these two...
He frowned, and then looked to the ground beneath him, "Don't worry. If he ever shows up... I'll have a talk with him."
Sienna nodded, "Yes... I suppose you will."
A cheer filled the room, and Jaune realised that the match had ended. He looked down to see one of the female Mandarins- A shortish woman in slim, formfitting armour coloured a deep rusty maroon with glowing red outlines travelling down the arms, kneecaps, and chest, and a glowing yellow T-shaped visor in her domed horn-shaped helmet- Cheering and standing tall over her opponent as she ripped off her helmet and revealed her rusty red eyes and hair, and bushy fox ears underneath. In one arm, she held her helmet, and in the other, a long spiked spear that ended in a half-diamond fork. The other- A taller, bulkier woman in gunmetal-silver armour with red highlights and blue blocky patterns on the helmet and chest, with two thick tubes feeding from the back of the domed helmet into a blocky device on her chest that looked like a miniaturised oxygen tank covered in blinking white and green lights- Kneeled on the floor, ripping off her helmet and wheezing for breath as her emerald eyes and black hair with green highlights became visible to everyone.
Jaune paused, and looked to the cheering woman with rusty red hair and eyes and asked, "That woman... Who is she?"
"Ambrosia Laskaris," Salome answered, "A good captain to those under her command. She had led a pocket of Mandarins against the Imperium on her own for weeks before the invasion, and her leadership skills had been the only thing that had kept the eastern front of the wall surrounding the civilians in Mantle from collapsing," he pointed to the woman kneeling on the ground, "The one on the ground is Charis Gennedy. I believe she and her family used to be Atlesian nobles before they left to join our house, and graduated from our schools to become a fighter pilot. She was one of the most prominent fighter pilots during the Battle of Mantle, and scored seventy-two kills by herself."
Jaune's eyes widened at the sight, "Wow... Those are some impressive track records... Damn well better than mine, at least," he turned his head to Salome, "What happens to Charis now?"
"Now, she will be moved into an advisory role. Still in the chain of command, but not as the overall leader," he answered, "it would be a waste of talent if we didn't put it to good use."
"Huh," was all that Jaune said as he watched 'Ambrosia' turn around and look down at 'Charis', "...Do you think that this kind of relationship between the two will hold the Winter Shores up?"
In the pit, Ambrosia extended a hand down to Charis, and with a smile on her face, the other woman took it.
The crowd cheered, and Salome smiled, "Yes, I think it will."
And Jaune believed him.
Six days after the Battle of Mantle...
"Pyrrha?"
"..."
"Pyrrha, are you there?"
"..."
"I was looking for you, you know? Took me forever to find what room that you're in, and I... I just want to talk, is all."
Pyrrha wasn't listening- At least, she was trying not to. Her back was pressed against the door as she sat on the ground, the door behind her locked, the lights in the room shut off and shrouding her, and the details of the room around her, in darkness.
She was beginning to like the dark. It hid her scars- Her badges of weakness.
She didn't move- Didn't cover her ears to block out the noise, didn't fidget a single muscle. She stayed still, her legs pulled up to her chest and her head buried in her knees. She felt small, like a child. Father would hate her for it.
Father would hate her regardless, for her weakness.
Her failure.
Her loss.
The trauma of the loss of her eye had done so much more than deprive her of her sight and depth perception. It had deprived her of her basic instincts in combat. The brain trauma of loosing an eye and so much blood had wiped her brain of her ability to fight in battle, as well as the ability to learn those skills.
That's what the doctors had said.
So much had been taken from her-
"Pyrrha, please..."
-And now, the boy on the other side of the door still wanted to talk? The boy that she had hurt? Wounded? Garnered a debt to and forgot to pay the tab?
Why?
Why?
Why would he want to... What? Help her? Save her? From what? Herself?
She didn't know. She was once a champion- The Invincible Girl- And now she wasn't. She didn't know anything anymore. Her mind was flooded with darkness, only it was a much more metaphorical force than the pitch black room surrounding her.
Her fighting career was over.
Her life was over.
"We're going to be going somewhere in a few days, Pyrrha. Somewhere I know well, and... And I want you to come with us, okay?"
So why was he still here?
Why was he worrying about a useless person who couldn't do anything anymore.
"I... I'll see you then, yeah?"
"..."
"...See you then."
The boy at the other end of the door left, and Pyrrha was left on her own once more.
…
"Jaune..."
…
"Please don't go..."
…
"I'm so tired..."
Jaune didn't know what to do about Pyrrha.
As he scooted his wheelchair away from her room and down the corridor, Sara following closely at his side (She had decided to stick herself at his side since he had released her from captivity, and considering how no one else seemed willing to take on the task themselves, he was okay with the undertaking), He tried to come up with something to say to Pyrrha- Tried to come up with a solution to the problem surrounding her- But each and every time, he just kept coming up short.
Ironically, he should dislike her- Maybe even hate her as well- What with not working with them before arriving in Solitas, ranting against him in Mantle before they separated, and then abandoning them to fight (And lose) Against the Daughter and Cinder in Amity- But he just... He just couldn't.
He just couldn't hate her.
He didn't know why, but he just couldn't.
That didn't mean that he had any idea what to do with her, though. It was just... He knew that many of her decisions had been driven by her father and the fear of weakness that he had installed in her, and he knew that Ren earlier had said that Pyrrha just wanted her space, but now, he... He just... He had no idea how he was supposed to help her.
This was an entirely new situation to him. He suspected that Pyrrha was going through a lot of mental issues right now, but he didn't know what they were, and how he was supposed to help him. He had never had to deal with something like that before. Not really. He had an idea that Ruby might be going through something similar, but he had Melanie at his side to help her through it, and it had been Viola who had helped him and his siblings through their traumas after losing their first home, not him.
He simply had no idea what to do.
He had asked Ren what to do, but all that he could say was, "You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. If she wants help, she will accept it. If she doesn't, then she won't."
It didn't help, but Jaune suspected that, really, he didn't know what to do either.
Sara was at his side as Jaune and the others walked through the sliding door into what had been dubbed 'The Workshop', less a room and more a hall in the Seer Victory dreadnaught with bright white strip lights running up the walls and across the roof, one that had been occupied by Cammie, Pietro, and their small army of engineers and technicians. Metal panels and sheets had been torn from the walls and wires spilling out, feeding into boxes and massive computers that were as tall as regular room walls, covered in blinking lights and switches as parts for old blocky radios and newer scrolls laid on tables in scattered parts and pieces, welders and soldering irons hissing smoke in the hands of workers as Jaune and Sara were handed protective gloves and goggles before entering the hall- A pair of guards staying close and keeping their eyes and guns on Sara, though they probably suspected that Jaune didn't notice them- And walking over to see Cammie and Pietro at their shared workstation, Pietro wearing a mask over his face as they worked on a blocky scroll that, like Cammie had said before, looked more like a brick than a radio.
"Cammie, Pietro," Jaune called out to them, trying not to make them jump (It wouldn't do for them to drop the hot solders in their hands onto their laps and burn them) As they approached them, "How's it going?"
Cammie turned off her solder and stood up from her seat to look at them- Just as Pietro turned his off and scooted around in his wheelchair, coughing gently into his mask as he did- And she said to them, "What, the radios? Going great. Almost there, actually. Almost got the buggers working, in fact. Soon we'll be able to get the radios to work over a longer distance, but we'd need something to boost the signal for it. Otherwise it'll take months to develop," Cammie tilted her head to the side as she looked at Jaune and Sara, "Why d'you ask?"
Jaune blinked, and scratched the back of his head, wincing at the movement and the dull ache associated with it slightly as he sat in his own wheelchair, looking up to the rabbit Faunus and going, "Er, isn't that why you called us up here?"
"Eh?" she looked down at Sara, "Ah, right, the kid. Well, I didn't actually call her up here, just you, but- Oh, right!" Cammie quickly ran to the side, and picked up something wrapped in cloth and fabric from behind the worktop bench, "I was supposed to give ya back this!"
She unwrapped the cloth and fabric, and revealed the unchipped blade underneath. Not the handle, but just the blade.
The blade of Crocea Mors.
"Kept it here for safekeepin', I did," Cammie said as she presented it to him, "Figured it was yours. Figured it was important after lookin' over it," behind her, Pietro nodded slightly, an expression hidden behind his mask.
Jaune was suddenly reminded of Skipjack back in the forge of Beacon, with the rabbit ears and enthusiasm combined, and took the blade and cloth into his hands, his hands protected by the fabric as he looked down at the smooth metal, "I... Thanks. Thank you so much," he smiled, before jokingly twisting the blade from side to side, "You couldn't save the handle?"
"Oi, be grateful, you lil' bugger."
"I am, I am, trust me," Jaune smiled as he looked at the opposite end of the blade, where the hilt should be, and saw lots of scratches on the underside of the blade, surrounding a rounded slot in the middle, "What happened to the handle, anyways?"
"Got melted and chipped to hell 'n' back, is what happened to it," Cammie gestured to the blade, though, "Blade was fine, though. Not a scratch, not even a chip. Perfectly fine. Hell of a reliable blade, you've got."
Jaune hummed, "Yeah. Old girl can cut through anything, really. It's helps me out of god knows how many situations."
"S'not why she called you down," Jaune jumped slightly as Sara piped up, pointing at Cammie and going, "It's on her face. She's got more to tell."
"...Huh, lil' bugger's more perceptive than I figured," Cammie shrugged at Sara's words, before looking up at him and going, "Nah, but she's right though. I asked one of my boys over there-" she gestured to a couple to workers at a nearby worktop "-To carbon date it."
Jaune raised an eyebrow, "Really? Why?"
"Because the damned thing's an antique. Even I can tell at a first glance that's the metal's old as all hell 'n' back," she pointed to the end of the blade where the hilt was supposed to be, "But what I really wanted to ask you about were the writings on the end of the blade."
That got Jaune to pause in surprise, "What? What writings?"
Cammie paused in surprise as well, "You didn't know?" she pointed at the end of the blade, and gestured to the slot in its middle, "See the slot there. That's where the hilt was designed to come off. Most swords, both old and new, aren't designed like that. They're all forged as one singular piece of metal.. It means that the hilt was supposed to come apart from the blade of your sword."
That was news to Jaune, but it did explain the slot in the middle of the blade's end, "Okay... And the writings?"
"Probably the scratches around the slot."
Cammie looked down to Sara, "Huh. Points to you again, kid," and then ran her finger along the end of the blade, across all the scratches, "But yeah, it's these. Pietro, pull up the images, will ya?"
Pietro nodded in his seat, and then typed in a code on a small laptop positioned on a stool next to his seat. A single second later, a series of images- Closeups of the end of his sword- Flashed into life, drawing Jaune's attention, causing him to pause and narrow his eyes on the end of his sword, trying to peer closer at the metal.
Because Cammie was right. Those weren't scratches in random patterns, but tiny microscale writings in a language that he couldn't understand, scuffed over millennia of use, but still visible and readable after so long.
It was Pietro who spoke up next as they surrounded the laptop screen next to him, "The language is old, we believe. Very old indeed. The closest language that we can approximate it to is Old Faunusese."
"Ah... Okay then?" Jaune replied in a confused tone, before looking down at Pietro and asked, "How old is Old Faunusese."
"Old old, is what it is."
"Pre-kingdoms?"
"Pre-everything, son," Pietro explained to him, "Old Faunusese is the oldest language that we know of, and it dates back thousands of years ago to the days of the Faunus Empire and possibly beyond," he gestured weakly to the screen, "I believe now that it may have been an evolution of this language. Your blade belongs in a museum, with this kind of historical value."
"Crocea Mors hasn't let me down yet, Pietro," Jaune sent him an apologetic smile, "I'm not giving up on it yet, unfortunately."
Pietro sighed, but nodded acceptingly, "Oh well. It's just a curiosity of mine, is all. I don't mind."
"Yeah, it's why we called you down, actually," Cammie pointed to the screen, "Other than the fact that it's a huge archeological find that might inform us of a forgotten chapter of our planet's history, we figured you'd know more about this than we would."
Jaune shook his head, and then asked, "Do you know what it says? I mean, if you think it's a predecessor to Old Faunusese, then do you know what it might say?"
"Unfortunately, no," Pietro shook his head wearily, "These sorts of findings take months- If not years- To decode and translate, and that's not even going into the scale of the operation that would go into making that happen. We simply don't have the resources to spend time on such an effort," Pietro paused, and then said, "That's said, we have compared the two languages, and I think we... We..."
"...Pietro?"
Pietro had paused. He was staring off into space again. With a worried look on her face, Cammie gently smacked her hand against his shoulder, and brought him back into the land of the living. With a quick glance from her, she then turned back to Jaune and Sara, and continued from where he left off, "We were able to find a few words after comparing the two languages. A few phrases, maybe, but don't take our word for it."
She pointed to one of the images on the screen.
"We think that there, it says either 'Transcend', 'Transcendence', or 'Transcended'. We're not too sure on the tense. There, we think it says something about walking into... Something, so the two are probably connected, and- There, see? Personally, I think it says something about descending, but Pietro thinks it says something about ascending. We're not too sure. And then there. We think it's talking about an other, or a something, or a somewhere?"
{BAM}
Jaune had slammed his hands into the table for support, and his eyes had widened.
"Could it... Is it talking about the Elsewhere?"
Cammie, Pietro, and Sara quickly recovered from their shock at the sudden sound, and Pietro, who sounded like he had just had a miniature heart attack, just asked, "Could you repeat that for me please, but just a little less loud, maybe? The 'Elsewhere'? I'm afraid that I'm unfamiliar with what that is."
"So am I," Jaune said as he pushed himself back up from the worktop table and sighed, "But back during the Initiation Massacre, before my- Before my first partner, Miltia, died, she said something about the 'Elsewhere'. She spoke of it like it was a place."
"I've heard the nice lady- Er, the Daughter, talking about it," everyone looked down to see Sara raising her hand as if calling attention to herself, "When I lived in the big red place, I heard her talk about the Elsewhere to herself. I think it is a place, but I don't know what it was. I never asked about it."
"Ugh, figures," Cammie muttered to herself, "I hate it when we're left with more bloody questions than answers. S'always so-"
{BAM}
"Arc!"
"-Annoying."
Everyone in the Workshop hall looked to the entrance, to see the portly man known as Augustus Green running into the room, huffing and greedily gulping down wads of air as he ran to Jaune's side and hurriedly went, "Arc, Sienna Khan wants you on the bridge! Radar contacts have reported energy readings fast approaching Solitas, only a day away from arriving at the city!"
Jaune froze, as did everyone else, "Who is it? Is it the Ascendant Court?"
Augustus shook his head, "No, it's Atlesian!"
Seven days after the Battle of Mantle...
James Ironwood's semblance, Mettle, was on overdrive.
It had been ever since the Battle of Vale had begun, and he had heard of Atlas' occupation. His grand armies across the world had been shattered and turned into remnants (How ironic a term) Of their once former glory, battered and blooded, and cut to only a tenth of their original strength after the vicious week-long fighting. His semblance had been the only thing keeping him and his armies together, and it had allowed him to push past the stress and make the necessary sacrifices needed to keep the fight against the Ascendant Court alive.
Because they had held out, across the globe, both from the Ascendant Court across all the continents, and the Bandit Confederation in Anima. Once the rallying cry from Jaune Arc- The once meek boy that he had allowed, with Winter Schnee, to investigate the vigilante murders conducted by Harriet Bree- Had been received by all the world, and then served its purpose by bringing all of the world together against the Court... It had been the tipping point needed for Ironwood to push the war against the Court.
If Arc's message had been the sword, than he had been the one wielding it, driving it into the hearts of his enemies. It had been the armies of Atlas that had saved Remnant- It had been the armies of Atlas that had defended the planet and caused the Grimm to retreat from all their borders, not a simple message alone.
So why couldn't anyone else see this?
After the vast global battle was over, his surviving forces had been halved by a fresh wave of defections. So many of his soldiers chose to abandon the pride of Atlas and run away to the kingdoms that they had made their home in for the last past months. Traitors, all of them. Sure, he had ordered many of his forces to stay in the city of Mistral in order to defend the Relic of Knowledge from the sieging Bandit Confederation- Their forces surrounding the city from their fortress in the Five-Handed City and the recently captured city of Kuchinashi- But that didn't mean that so many others could leave Atlas for the rest of their forces, no matter what their reasons are.
And then, when his forces had been halved by defections again. So many of his men left him for the sake of the Bandit Confederation, for the Acolytes, for the smaller settlements and smaller factions. Idiots, all of them. Why couldn't they see that those smaller people didn't matter? They weren't important. Not the safety of Remnant. All that mattered what that Atlas, the last bastion for all of mankind, could recover and survive, so that they might serve as the bastion- The true pinnacle for all of mankind- Once again?
No, Atlas had not fallen to the ground. It could not. Atlas had not been overtaken by this Imperium. It could not. No, Atlas hadn't been lost to the Grimm. It could not.
(Something within him spoke out against this, but his semblance quickly squashed it down.)
So, as he stood on the bridge of the Endless Patriot, one of the few Atlesian military cruisers that had not only survived the endless fighting, but had agreed to stay at his side, and at Atlas' as well, his mind was spinning its plans. As he watched the ship roll past the mountains below, flanked by the few ships left of Atlas' proud fleet, he began to develop a strategy on how to fight back against the Grimm. Once they had landed in Atlas and he had returned to the council chamber, he would remove the rest of them from power and take command of the kingdom himself. Then, he would push all of the kingdom's manufacturing capabilities into producing a new war machine for Atlas- For Remnant, creating a new army of droids and warships that he would need to crush all of Remnant's enemies, regardless of the consequences.
They were at war now. There was no longer any time for mercy.
And if anyone got in his way, then he would introduce them to Due Process for their treason.
No place for mercy to their enemies. No place at all.
"Sir," said one of the bridge crew members at her station, "We're cresting over the hills now. We should have sight of Atlas in a few seconds," she sounded nervous. Afraid. Why was she afraid? What was she afraid of? Atlas stood tall. It had to be. It could not fall.
"Very good," was Ironwood's reply, "Make all speed."
"Aye aye, sir."
The ship rose upwards over the mountain ahead of them. Behind him, Winter Schnee and Marrow Amin, the last of his specialists (The rest of his Ace-Ops, sans Harriet Bree, who had still imprisoned in Vale, had been killed in the fall of Kuchinashi to the Bandit Confederation) Stood at attention, their hands clasped behind their backs and their faces stoic, even if Ironwood could see the apprehension spread across them. Particularly Marrow Amin, who was constantly fidgeting in place and clenching his hands behind his back, his face covered- Practically smothered- With emotions.
Stop fidgeting. Stop looking so scared. You're an Atlesian, proud and true- An Ace-Op, no less. Stop looking so scared and be assured in the knowledge that Atlas survives, no matter what.
The Endless Patriot crested over the mountain, and Ironwood turned to his second in command behind him.
"Winter, when we reach Atlas, I want you to-"
"What the fuck?!"
Ironwood went to admonish Marrow for his interruption, but upon hearing the shocked gasps of everyone else on the bridge, and the horrified expressions across Winter as well, he turned to see what they were all looking towards...
And his jaw dropped in horror.
Where Atlas once hovered, and where Mantle once sat, all that was left was a mountain of rubble, now peaked in snow and ice, metal poking out of its hills in stabbing arms and twisted hands as sprayed rubble and potholes filled with snow punctured the ground like staple holes and tears in paper. Next to the mountain of rubble and ruins, a city of scrap and landed ships crafted itself out of the corpses and carcasses of the various crashed ships gathering dust and ice surrounding them, thin plumes of smoke and steam rising from the city as its lights and colours stood out against the blank white tundra around them.
Atlas... It was true?
Atlas had fallen?
It couldn't be...
it just couldn't be...
"Winter," Ironwood began as he refocused himself, blankness flashing over his eyes as he continued, "Assemble a team and head down to Atlas, now. We need to know what we can salvage from-"
"Sir!"
"What?!" Ironwood roared at the interruption, only to see that it was the same bridge technician from before, flinching wildly at his demand. How unprofessional. Never let your emotions rule over you.
"I-I- We've picking up a-a message. A radio transmission, f-from down below," the bridge technician began with a shaky, stuttering voice, "Someone down below is- Is hailing us-"
"Put it through."
"Sir-"
"Now!"
Winter and Marrow flinched behind him, but he didn't pay them any mind as the bridge technician, with a shakiness in her step, tapped away at the console at her station, and brought up a flickering blue holographic screen before him.
A screen with Jaune Arc's face in the middle of it.
"General Ironwood," Jaune said to them, before turning his head to the side and nodding to Winter Schnee, "Winter," and then to Marrow, "And..." his face scrunched up in confusion, "You..."
"Marrow," the specialist in question answered.
"Marrow, thank you," Jaune nodded to him with a smile, "You can thank Pietro for getting this transmission through. He and Cammie are real wizzes when it comes to stuff like this. Apparently even better when under pressure, too. Should start imposing more deadlines, I should."
Ironwood, however, was not as willing to entertain the boy. He ignored Winter's sudden awkward fidgeting at the sight of the Arc boy as he demanded, "Jaune Arc, what have you done to Atlas?"
Jaune sent him an equally confused glance, "Well, pleasantries aside, I guess... But did you not get the message that was sent out a week ago? I mean, I'm glad that you guys are alive, and-"
"Enough with the talk, Arc," Ironwood's eyes flashed, and his anger was suppressed, "What happened to Atlas?"
"Wait, Ironwood, what about Vale? What happened to-"
"Tell me now."
Jaune looked taken aback by Ironwood's words, before he took a deep breath and schooled his expression (Or at least attempted to) And said, "What I said on the message was true, General. Atlas fell to the ground. Cinder Ella took the Relic of Creation out of the vault, and Atlas fell to the ground as a result. We had to use the island to take down a Grimm dreadnaught, but we couldn't stop it from falling."
Ironwood wasn't even going to bother hiding the truth from the rest of his bridge crew. They had all seen the message about Salem. There was no point in hiding it now, "And the Relic?"
"Gone. The Daughter and the rest of the Ascendant Court stole it away, along with most of the population of Atlas," a sad look overcame him, whilst Ironwood's semblance went ballistic in cooling his emotions and strengthening his resolve, "We tried our best, but... We couldn't save them all-"
"How much of Atlas' facilities can we salvage?"
Jaune looked to him, "Ironwood-"
"We need to rebuild Atlas, and we need the facilities to do so," Ironwood began, "So how much can we salvage from the island."
"Ironwood, Atlas is gone. There's nothing left of it. It burnt to the ground."
"Ridiculous. Atlas stands forever, and-"
"Atlas stood for eighty years, and then it fell. It's gone, Ironwood. You're all that's left."
"Then I will rebuild it myself if I have to."
"Ironwood, it needed to- You know what, no," Jaune narrowed his eyes at the general, "You want to talk, we'll do it in person. We'll send you some coordinates, okay? We'll find a meeting place on the ground within the hour, and there we'll talk," he looked at Ironwood with a distrusting glare, "See you there."
The holographic screen flickered off, and a few minutes later, a set of coordinates flashed into view.
Ironwood turned to Winter in a flash, "Winter, prep a shuttle and take us down to those coordinates. Bring two teams with us in case of an ambush."
Winter looked apprehensive, "Sir-"
"Now."
Winter saluted and marched off as quick as she could, Marrow following shortly behind. Ironwood took a moment to memorise the coordinates before following himself, a pair of red-rimmed guards at his sides as he moved.
Soon, they were flying down in a Bullhead shuttlecraft to the coordinates down below, just outside of the scrap city on the ground, outside of the once grand city of Atlas. Twice he caught his specialists and soldiers carelessly acting out of protocol and looking outside to the fallen kingdom, and twice he had to bark at them to maintain discipline. Such lack of care to listen to protocol would only lower their morale, and he didn't need his soldiers acting like some common militia rabble. They were all that was left of Atlas. As such, all of mankind rested on their shoulders.
But even so, he allowed himself the chance to look outside of his own accord, and saw the true extend of the damage that had been done to his kingdom. The entire island had been cracked in half and reduced to rubble, all of it covered in a fresh layer of sleet and snow, but he could still make out a few notable features. Atlas Academy laid in two halves on the floor below, the hill beneath it ground to dust as the once mighty tower that pierced the sky laid snapped on the ruins below, twisted and contorted into shapes almost unrecognisable. The monorail system that had travelled around the city of Atlas on blue hardlight tracks was turned into spiked towers to twisting metal, like claws stretching out into the clouds. Skyscrapers and buildings alike laid upturned and crumbled, blackened scars from once raging fires now cooled by the icy winds of Solitas. The farmlands and agricultural districts of the floating island spilled their innards onto the ground, coating the rubble in a thin layer of saplings for winter plants that began to grow in the freezing cold, some of them naturally bioluminescent and glowing in the setting sun of Atlas' night, shading the ruins in a thin rainbow hue. Deer, polar bears and mountain goats began to ascend the unstable ruins and make their nests and homes within the new frozen over mountain, nature reclaiming the ruins as its own once more.
A massive salvage operation would have to be launched as soon as he took control of the city below. There would be no rest for his men, not at this crucial hour. All of Atlas depended on it.
As they approached the ground, the pilot's voice from the cockpit sounded out over the intercom, "Sir, we're approaching the coordinates, but we've got a crowd of people forming at the LZ."
"Armed?" Ironwood asked. He would be damned if he took any chances.
"Some of them, sir, but not most. I'm seeing Mandarins from the Winter Shore down there, as well as what look like some type of militia fighters, but most of them look like civilians, and... Sir, we've got White Wolves down there."
Ironwood silently swore, but his semblance calmed him, "Signal the other ships, and order the teams inside to assume crescent guard formation around us to cover all sides."
"Sir, I don't think these people are hostile. I-"
"That's an order, pilot."
"I... Sir yes sir," and the intercom shut off.
Ironwood turned to Winter and Marrow, "Be ready for a fight," and got a pair of nods from them as the shuttle landed on the ground below.
The Bullhead side doors opened up, and Ironwood was greeted by a mob.
Thousands of civilians- Humans, Faunus, and Techions of all shapes and sizes- Had gathered to watch whatever proceedings were about to take place, fenced off from the small circle that had formed before them by a surprisingly well-organised, yet also thin wall of guards, both Mandarin, militiaman, and White Wolf terrorist. It seemed like the entire city population had come to witness Atlas' return.
Good. He needed as many soldiers as he could get, conscripted or not.
But then, he paid attention to their faces, and saw not the emotions that he was expecting. Instead of cheer, he saw fright. Instead of happiness, he saw apprehension. Instead of joy and excitement, he saw fear, anger, and despair.
Why were they feeling this way? Atlas had returned. They would make a better Atlas- A stronger Atlas- From the ruins of the old.
So why were they angry?
Why were they so angry?
As Ironwood, his specialists, and his guards, stepped off the Bullhead, his eight man squads of soldiers on either side stepping off their Bullheads and moving into defensive positions around him, he caught sight of the people in front of him, flanked by their own guards. In the centre was Jaune Arc in crutches, a small girl in a rag dress at his side, and what looked like his teammates behind him, whilst at one side stood a pair of Mandarins in full armour- A man and a woman in yellow and maroon respectively- And on the other stood Robyn Hill, who was shooting her a narrowed glare, and-
"Khan," Ironwood glared at her as she just narrowed her eyes at him in turn.
Winter spoke out of turn, "Why is my brother with you?" she demanded as she gestured to the boy- Whitely Schnee- At her side. The boy moved defensively behind her back in response.
"Willow and Jacques are dead," was Sienna's reply, "He's under my protection."
Willow looked shocked at this, but Ironwood quickly stepped forwards and asked, "Did they die by your hands?"
Sienna just laughed, "I wish, I truly do," before looking down apologetically at Whitley and going, "No offense, little Schnee."
Whitley just shrugged, "None taken."
"None taken here either."
Sienna just shot Winter a glare for her shocked muttering, "I wasn't talking to you."
Ironwood just pointed at Sienna, "Guards, arrest her."
None of them moved.
"Arrest her!"
"Not a chance," finally, Jaune Arc spoke up as he moved forwards, his crutches hobbling against the ground as he said to Ironwood, "Sienna Khan and her White Wolves were instrumental in helping us to achieve victory. You're not arresting one of our best allies."
Ironwood looked down at the disabled boy, "She is a terrorist."
Jaune turned to Sienna, and upon seeing his gaze turn to her, she went, "I have no intention of returning to my old roots. Not anymore. Atlas and the SDC are gone, as is my feud with them. I want to make something better now, against our common enemy."
Ironwood frowned, "You can begin to do so in a cell. Atlas is not gone."
"Yes it is, General," Jaune caught his attention once more, "Atlas fell to the ground. It's over."
"It is not over. It can't. Atlas is strong. It is-"
"Destroyed, Ironwood," he gestured his hand to the mountain of ruins collecting snow in the distance, "It's gone, along with Mantle. Whatever dream you have of rebuilding Atlas is impossible."
Ironwood's glare grew sharper as his semblance strengthened his convictions once more, "It's not gone. Not forever. As long as a single Atlesian patriot survives, so to does Atlas itself."
"Along with the elitism that came with it? The hypocrisy? The moral ineptitude and corruption?" Robyn Hill staked her claim into the argument as she moved forwards to confront Ironwood at Jaune's side, "Mantle chaffed underneath Atlas' boot for years. For decades we had to watch as you ground us into the dirt, turned us into slaves for your mines and factories, and tried to corporatize every single aspect of our lives, all for a profit! You let businesses and corporations like EI and the SDC hold political power on the council! You allowed them to gain unchecked power, and sat back and did nothing as they turned the people of Mantle into soulless puppets- Living wallets filled with cash to satisfy their endless greed. All the while your attack dogs-" she pointed at both Winter and Marrow "-Hounded and destroyed any chance we might've had for making our people's lives even a little bit better!"
Ironwood snorted at her, "It's always about Mantle with you..."
"It's not about Mantle," Jaune cut in with, "It's about Atlas."
"Atlas has been the spearhead for bigotry and corruption for years," said the Mandarin woman in maroon armour, her hands crossed over her chest as she said, "You allowed corporations to gain seats on the council. What did you think was going to happen if not corruption? Not to mention the propaganda that you lot blasted onto Mantle at every given turn in order to brainwash them into loyal servants of a police state," she gestured to him, "Propaganda that you clearly brought into."
"Those propaganda reels are needed to keep up morale and trust in the kingdom."
"And look how that turned out," the Mandarin cut off Ironwood with, "Atlas finally completed its transformation into a fascist dictatorship with a woman so evil that she murdered hundreds of thousands of children just for fun, all in a month. A month. In the span of just a month alone, Cinder Ella's Imperium brainwashed millions of people, murdered millions more, and opened the door for the Ascendant Court to invade in one of the most pointless civil wars in history. The Atlesian Civil War only came about because Cinder wanted to engage in pointless cruelty, and she did so whilst flying Atlas' banner."
"I have yet to see evidence of this Imperium even existing."
The crowd behind them began to boo and hiss, yelling at him, decrying him for reasons that he could not understand. Whatever. He had always been unpopular. He had faced criticism before, and he had done it all in the name of Atlas. That hadn't changed, and it never would.
"Oh for fuck's sake- It did exist!" the Mandarin cried out, "It did exist! You just weren't there to see it!"
"You weren't here when Cinder Ella was in power," Jaune shot a glare at him, "You weren't there to watch her brainwashed forces murder people in the streets. Faunus had their traits cut off, rebels were crucified and left in the streets, those with disabilities, physical and mental, were burnt alive by zombie soldiers, the children of Solitas were taken away to be turned into aura harvesters, and then killed all because Cinder decided that she wanted to have a laugh! You don't get to spit in the face of all of these people's suffering, just because you weren't here to see it happen yourself! Where were you when Cinder took power!? Where were you when she decided to murder millions of slaves for a lark!?"
"You were on the council when Cinder came into power," Sienna added her own thoughts in with, "As well as Jacques. You had two seats on the council before they were all killed by Cinder, no? You had two seats, and I know for a fact that you thought allowing the Schnee man political power on the council was a bad decision, yet you still let it happen anyways! Why is that? You saw the warning signs, didn't you? Why didn't you stop him?"
"I didn't judge him a threat at-"
"Bullshit! You just didn't care!" Sienna growled, "You know, before Jacques took over, I actually respected the SDC. Nicholas Schnee was a good man, and he had great values and lofty ambitions. But he was betrayed by the kingdom that he helped to build, by a man that wanted it all to himself, and a corrupt tyrant was allowed at the helm- A man who kept his wife in a constant state of drunkenness and abused his own children!" behind her, Whitley shrunk, and Winter looked offended at her words. However, Sienna continued, "The SDC enslaved the Faunus of Mantle, and subjected them to brutal treatment daily! I know half of the recruits in the White Wolves ranks have SDC brands seared into their flesh, and many others had come from the impoverished districts of Mantle, where even the lowest of crimes were supressed by your lapdogs! There was an entire district in Mantle called Animal Farm where only Faunus lived, and I can name five more public shootings and displays of violence by Atlesian forces that took place after your men burnt it to the ground!"
Ironwood glared hard at her, and a dull flash came over his eyes once more, "And you are free of any crimes, Khan? You are free from sin? I remember Gris Square, even if you don't."
"I had nothing to do with that, you fool, and you know it!" Sienna shot back, "It had been my agents that had alerted you to Adam's folly, and it had been my agents who had stopped Adam and his Acolytes from causing anymore harm than they were planning to!"
Behind her, Winter looked to the ground guiltily.
Ironwood was not so easily cowed. He gestured to his subordinates and called to them, "Arrest them for treason against Atlas!"
None of them moved.
"Arrest them now!"
Not a single inch.
"Atlas is gone, Ironwood," Jaune caught his attention once more as he stood, in crutches, at his side, the small girl and his teammates besides him, "And it needed to fall, to give way for something new. Something better. A fresh start for everyone."
"Atlas was the last hope for mankind," Ironwood interjected with, his eyes filled with more dullness than ever, "Without it, all the kingdoms will fall."
"Atlas was a place of bigotry and spite," said one of Arc's teammates, a short orange-haired girl, who crossed her arms together and glared at Ironwood, "A place of demanding that the people of Mantle, and so many others, sacrifice in their name."
"I have made nothing but sacrifices for-"
"You're asking all of these people-" she swept her arms over the crowds beyond them "-To sacrifice all that they have built and accomplished, all for your dreams of bringing back a dead kingdom!"
"Atlas has done nothing but good for Remnant!"
"Atlas cut my wings off and left me to die a slave!" the orange-haired girl threw back, "For all of your technological advancements, you lot seem to fail in basic morality! Yes, there are good Atlesians out there- Whitley, Willow, Cammie, Clover, and Pietro- But for all of the good that you have done, Ironwood, and all of the good that you think you've done, you seem dead set on making sure that you're not one of them!"
"Atlas is gone, Ironwood," Jaune said to him, "It's lost its power, and you need to hand over yours as well."
Ironwood scowled. His semblance began to strain, "It was my power- Atlas' power- That gave you the right to investigate the vigilante murders in Vale."
"And I thank you," Jaune said back to him, "As much as I thank you and your men for their sacrifices in protecting the kingdoms from the Grimm... But it was an Atlesian specialist who committed those murders."
Winter winced, and Marrow shuffled awkwardly in place. Ironwood just stayed completely in place, as stoic and still as a boulder.
"When we were in Atlas- When we were in the processing facility, fighting Cinder and Hephaestus, she said something about the guns in Atlas. She said that you were the one who laid the groundworks for those guns to be attached to the underside of Atlas. She had just completed the task. Is that true?"
Ironwood scowled, "Those weapons were necessary for Atlas' survival-"
"So you admit it!" Jaune scowled back, "For god's sake, were you- Were we even at war when you ordered them built?"
"No, but-"
"You see, this!" Jaune pointed to him, and then to the soldiers and ships behind him, "This... Rampant militarism! Do you really think that these people are going to want to live under another military dictatorship? Especially after the last one, which murdered so many people just because it felt like it?"
"Those guns were necessary for Atlas's survival!" Ironwood repeated.
"Not really," Sienna mockingly cut in with, "Didn't actually do much against the Grimm dreadnaught, Hardly scratched it. We had to use Atlas itself to destroy the Grimm's big toy."
Ironwood turned to Sienna, "You have not earned your right to speak."
"And neither have you," Robyn stepped ahead of Sienna to stand before Ironwood, "Not when you used resources that could've benefitted the lives of Mantle just to pacify your own paranoia. Atlas was a festering pit of corrupt militarism that allowed monsters like Cinder and Jacques to take control, and it deserved to be burnt to the ground. I know that you're a fanatic zealot when it comes to Atlas, but at this point, even you have to see that!"
He took a step forwards, "Atlas-"
"Is gone!" yelped the little girl with the long hair and rag dress at Jaune's side as she jumped in his way, "And you'll be too if you lay a finger on the nice boy!"
Ironwood's fingers twitched towards his handguns, Due Process. It was instinctive, "Is that a threat, little girl?"
Her eyes flashed from blue to red, and a deep, threatening growl invaded her voice, "Would you like to find out?"
Ironwood glared at her, "Who even are you?"
"Her name is Rui Sara," Jaune got in the way of her and put a protective arm in front of her, "And that's all that you need to know."
Ironwood glowered, "Atlas must stand again. It has to, otherwise all of Remnant will fall."
"Is it you saying that?" Jaune asked him, "Or is it your semblance?"
Ironwood shifted his glare to him.
"I've been told about your semblance- About Mettle," Jaune lowered his voice, speaking more softly to Ironwood now, "I've wanted to try and be reasonable with you, but you're not being reasonable with us- You're refusing to be reasonable with us- And I'm thinking back to Vale. When we talked, you were so much more approachable than this. You were a lot more helpful. Now we're here, and now you're acting like this, and I'm wondering how much of what you're saying is you, and how much else is your semblance?"
Something in his mind gnashed. Mettle toned it down, "My mind is my own, and my will is resolute."
"So I've seen," Jaune said, "But that doesn't make it right."
Ironwood said nothing.
"Ironwood... James... Atlas is gone. It allowed corrupt men like Jacques to take power for themselves. It allowed monsters like Cinder to build their empires from that corruption, and twist it into something worse, something evil. The kingdoms of both Atlas and Mantle are gone, reduced to rubble. Now is the time for us to build something new- Something better- From their remains."
"...And if the Ascendant Court returns?" Ironwood asked, "What then?"
"Then we will fight them, and we will win," Jaune spoke as a declaration, "Just as we will fight you, and win, if we have to. These people behind me- They have seen the worst that Remnant has to offer, and have come out from it the strongest people that I have ever known. They have faced true hardship and suffering, and they have not only survived, but prospered from its passing. Look to the people of Solitas: Hardened, resilient, and not willing to trade one military dictatorship for another. Compare that to your few troops, and your few ships-"
Overhead, the few ships that Ironwood had left, punctured by blast craters and cannon holes, hung in the air. His soldiers at his side stood exhausted from constant battle and war.
"-And then ask yourself: Is this a fight you truly believe you can win?"
Behind Jaune, the crowds of civilians roared with cheer and vigour. Ironwood's soldiers just looked apprehensively to each other, and even Winter and Marrow seemed unsure of what to do next.
"...My pride in Atlas is all that I have left," Ironwood calmly stated to Jaune without a hint of emotion, "Without it, I have nothing else left."
"Then make something out of the nothing," Jaune encouraged him, "Maybe even look to the people of Solitas, and see what they have made. These people are the reason that Remnant still stands today, and you and I both know it. The least you can do is respect their service, and see what makes them so strong in the absence of Atlas."
He turned himself around, showing his back to Ironwood, and began to hobble to the crowd at their backs, his teammates and the girl at his side- 'Rui Sara'- Following shortly afterwards. The guards at the crowd split open, and he stood before the people numbering in the tens of thousands.
Then, he threw his crutches to the side, and stood before them on tall, yet shaking feet.
Everyone hushed to listen.
"Brothers and sisters, friends and family, and Solitasians alike!" his voice seemed to boom across the icy tundra, louder than it truly was, and everyone listened, "Look to your left, then to your right, and see the people that stand at your side! So many people of so many classes, races, species and ethnicities, joined together to become one! One people! One kingdom, united under the banner of freedom, from monsters and tyrants alike! One kingdom who delivered not just Solitas, but all of Remnant from the jaws of evil! It was not one man who defeated the Ascendant Court and the Imperium! It was not one man who turned the tide of war back into our favour! It was not one man who killed the monsters and sent the rest running and screaming for their lives! It was one people! One kingdom! One Remnant!"
The crowds cheered in wild abandon, and whatever demand or decree that Ironwood tried to voice next was drowned out by the sounds and cries of the adulterating people below.
"I did not stop the Imperium! WE DID! I did not turn back the Ascendant Court! WE DID! I did not wipe away the stains of both Atlas and Mantle, and join all of us together! WE DID! One people! One Remnant! Mantle gave way to suffering, so we will make something new! Atlas gave way to suffering, so we will make something better! We will take the ruins of the past and build a new future from their remains, and we shall do so together! Atlas is gone, and in its place we will craft a new kingdom! A new shelter from the monsters outside!"
He pointed his hand to the scrap city behind them.
"Let this kingdom of salvage and steel be our Shelter, like the dreams of Mantle the pioneer, who colonised this land in the name of freedom! Let this alliance that we have made by the New Dawn that banishes away the darkness! Let us be the people, brought together by tragedy yet forging together a new world of faith and unity, that guides our world into a new future!"
The crowd roared their agreement, a vast cheer that echoes across all of Atlas- All of Solitas.
"Are you willing to stand for it?"
"""""YES!"""""
"Are you willing to fight for it?!"
"""""YES!"""""
"Then stand and fight we shall! Against any opponent, and against every opponent, be it Grimm, Imperium, or even Atlas!"
The crowd cheered their approval, and Jaune turned back to Ironwood. Somehow, amidst the roars of approval, his voice could still be heard.
"Atlas is gone, Ironwood... It's time to make something new. And we can do that, together."
He approached Ironwood on hobbled, yet strong steps, and held out his hand.
"If you will only take a hand."
Ironwood paused. Amidst the cheering crowds of thousands before them, his semblance screamed in his ear to strengthen his resolve- Strengthen his will. Atlas must be rebuilt, stronger than ever. It must be restored to its former glory. Only through Atlas do the kingdoms- Does Remnant itself- Stand any chance of survival.
And yet, as he looked behind himself, he could see Marrow and Winter letting their weapons fall to the side, looking out over the crowds so opposed to their return with defeat in their eyes, even before the battle had already begun. Behind them, the soldiers that he had brought with him had lowered their rifles as well, their tattered armour and gear standing out in comparison to the white tundra surrounding them. In the sky, the once proud Atlesian military that had been sent out to protect the world, now reduced from hundreds of ships to just a bare dozen, hovered as silent mausoleums, punctured by blackened scars and battle wounds, like bullet holes through sheet metal. The constant fighting from before had neutered his soldiers, and now there was no more fight left within them.
Ironwood looked back to Jaune Arc- To the hand that had been extended out before him...
And for the first time in what felt like so long, he switched off his semblance, let the colour return to his eyes, and took his hand.
"What would you have my men do?"
Jaune smiled, and a new alliance was formed.
(And in the corner near them, Winter and Whitley Schnee approached one another.
"Hello there, brother."
"Sister."
…
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…
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…
"I'm sorry."
Whitley paused at her words for a long while, before he turned around and walked away.
"Of course, sister."
No more words. No second glances. Nothing else.
Winter just sighed and stood back, helpless, as another bridge in their family was burnt.)
Ten days after the Battle of Mantle...
In the days following Ironwood's arrival- As well as the arrival of what was left of his forces and the Atlesians that had chosen to return home as well, such as the Happy Huntresses and so on- A rough political system within the city now known as Shelter (Jaune blushed when people said that it was he that had named the city), As well as within the alliance that had formed between the city, Mandarins, and White Wolves. Communication networks were established between the various factions and groups that had come together at Mantle's time of need, and with it, something more permanent was beginning to take form within the salvaged city.
With the various leaders of the factions, though, came a multitude of problems. For one, there was the decision on where to hold the first meeting of their alliance. Eventually it was decided that they would hold their first meeting in the stadium that had been constructed for the Mandarins when they had to decide their leader, the arena itself broken down and reconstructed in the middle of the city. Ironwood had suggested that they hold the meeting in one of his cruisers, but it was denied. The leaders of the alliance did not want to separate themselves from the people that they governed like the council of Atlas.
Next thing that came up was who would be attending the meeting, and what delegates would be attending. Ironwood was denied a seat- He held two seats in the old council, and many considered it to be a mistake. In this new council, the military would not be granted a seat of political power. The army would be a servant of the people, not their rulers- As well as any corporate businesses that were forming in the city. They would not repeat the mistakes of Atlas with the SDC and EI. Not again.
Soon, after two days of deliberation, the delegates for the factions of the alliance had been chosen to attend the meeting, first being the representatives of the House of the White Wolves. It was a controversial choice, seeing as they were previously classified as a terrorist organisation, but Sienna Khan seemed genuine in paying for the mistakes of the past, and in this war, they needed all of the allies that they could get, though rumours circulated about Sienna's chosen representatives.
("I still don't understand why she chose me," Augustus Green said with a note of confusion in his voice, "I'm not even a Faunus. I'm a human. I thought she didn't like humans. Why would she choose me to represent her house."
"Hey, cheer up fella!" Buzzbug, the second representative, went as he patted the portly man on the back, "If she chose you to represent the White Wolves, that means that she trusts you, human or not! If she likes you, then by Azul so do I!"
Augustus couldn't help but send a smile back to his Techion peer, and took comfort in his words. Sienna Khan had given him this task, and by god, he would do it.
Behind them, their third representative, a sharp-toothed Faunus woman by the name of Kyler nodded to them, and thought back to her husband, Cylas. It was time to make a new future for them all.)
The next representatives to be chosen were the chosen representatives of the city of Shelter itself, now led by Robyn Hill. The decision for her representatives to be the recently returned Happy Huntresses from Vale was markedly less controversial, though rumours still persisted of the relationship between them, though they were quickly shot down as ridiculous.
("You really think that we're going to be good at this?" Fiona Thyme said as Joanna Greenleaf and May Marigold stood at her sides, "I mean, I know that Robyn trusts us, but, politics, you know? That's her field, not ours. Not mine."
"I get what you mean," Joanna said with a huff, "I mean, fighting and resisting- That's our game, not this. This is new to me."
May Marigold didn't say anything. She was still reeling from the news of her cousin's death. Even if she didn't like Henry, he was still family.
Joanna saw this and tried to pick the mood up, "Still though, we should give it a shot. We at least have to repay Robyn back for last night."
Fiona let out a shiver at the thought. The memory of the night that all four of them had shared, the musky smell of flesh on flesh, her lovers' taste on her tongue, the sensation of all three of her lovers inside of her, wriggling fingers and tongues (And in May's case an extra appendage because they couldn't afford the surgery) Invading her mouth and holes...
Pay Robyn back for last night?
Yeah, she could do that.)
For the Mandarins, their choices were obvious, and no controversy was raised because of it. However, the fact that their new leader, Ambrosia Laskaris, chose to represent her house alongside the rest of her delegation rose a few eyebrows.
(Ambrosia let out a tired sigh. Two days into this politicking nonsense- Of listening to politicians scream and yell at each other over this and that and a million other pointless topics- And she was already exhausted. It was time at this that she wondered why she had chosen to represent her house as well as lead it.
"Don't go for a nap just yet, High Leader," her new second in command, Charis Gennedy said to her in something close to a regal tone, tapping away on her scrollpad as she continued, "You have five more meetings with alliance and city representatives before the end of the day.
"Indeed," High Priest Salome Ariti said, staff in hand as he continued, "A good leader must attend to every battlefield, wherever it be on the frontlines or in the courthouse. You are the new High Leader, and as such, these are your new duties to attend to."
Ambrosia groaned, and she knew for a fact that the both of her fellow representatives were silently laughing at her suffering.
Arses. Both of them.)
Other factions, however, had emerged in the wake of the construction of Shelter. What was left of Atlas' civilians, roughly five thousand in size, dissolved and disappeared into the three million Mantlian survivors, so they had lost any chance of representation. Their time was truly over. However, other smaller groups had split off from the city and made their camps either outside of the walls and within the mountain that was once Atlas and Mantle. A new web of settlements of villages had begun to emerge, and as such, they had required representation as well.
("Huh," John Prometheus said as he looked over the papers given to him and his brothers, "They chose us as their representatives. Why did they do that? Why would they do that?"
"Because we're awesome at everything and they know it?" asked his adoptive brother Andre, the green-haired grasshopper Faunus with the robot arm muttering something in Menagerian before continuing, "And everyone else sucks by comparison alone?"
"Temper your ego, dear brother," said the blind monk called Jack, another adopted brother of theirs and the last of the chosen settlement representatives, "Ego is the mind-killer. In order to achieve true peace, one must accept themselves as themselves, rather than the image that they have constructed for themselves.
The spindly, one-eyed robot that they had called Mateuz (Without an S), Made entirely from spare parts and, whilst not a representative of the settlements, was still their helper and one of their closest family members, tilted his head to them and said, [STATEMENT: HAIKU HAS NO RELATION TO CURRENT TOPIC.]
John rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smiled at the banter. His brothers might be annoying most of the time, but they were still his brothers regardless.)
And then, there were the neutrals. The factionless and the disabled. The people that had been harmed and wounded by the war, but had refused to side with any of the factions had formed the alliance. The crippled, disabled, childless, and the like. The everybody else.
("Ready for our first day of work, Representative Count-Down?" Veronica Masters said to her Techion peer.
"Hah! Not what I had imagined my life to be, but, hey! Politics can't be that much different from fighting," Count-Down replied to her, "So yeah, I'm ready."
They laughed together, and behind them, the last neutral representative, Rebecca Flowers, wondered how long it would be before she had to break out the wedding gowns for the two of them.)
It was eventually decided that every representative would meet in the centre of Shelter once every month, on the first day specifically. Each group would have three representatives attached to it, and all major legislation and decisions made by the alliance at large would need a two out of three majority to pass, meaning ten out of fifteen votes. Not only that, but there were rumours circling that there were plans to implement a wider voting system into a kingdom and allow for democratic elections. In times of emergency, the voting system for the alliance could be bypassed, and emergency leaders would be placed into power for as long as the crisis lasted.
All in all, it was a flawed system, but all political structures were. Besides, it was still in its infancy, and time would iron out the flaws. Wherever it would work or not, no one but time would know.
But, in all of their eyes, there was a shared shine, a shared ambition, a shared desire:
To learn from the mistakes of the past, and to make sure that the monsters that had risen to power before never had the chance to do so, ever again.
At the centre of Shelter, shielded behind a hardlight bubble for their safety, yet visible for all of the people of Shelter to see and hear, the first checks and balances for their positions of power were agreed upon, the restrictions to their offices that made sure that no one could ever seize power for their own ends like before. There hadn't been enough time to sort out the official legislative, executive, or judicial branches of the alliance, so for now a fusion of powers existed in their place. However in due time, they would be untangled. Maybe by the time the war ends and peace is returned to Remnant, the political structure of Shelter and the alliance will finally be realised.
And then, in the last few minutes of their meeting, the representatives finally decided on the name of their alliance, and the basis that it would be founded upon.
"The motion is passed. On this day, based on the For All Mankind thesis by ones Jaune Arc and Nora Valkyrie, we christen this alliance to be the New Dawn."
Up in the stands around them, Jaune's blush turned him as red as a tomato, and Nora just shot him a smug grin. Sara just giggled.
Still though, the more Jaune watched this alliance- The New Dawn- Take shape, the more he was convinced that this union of factions truly was becoming something permanent. There was so much hope and optimism in this new alliance that they had made, and it filled him with that same hope and optimism as well.
He decided that his work in Solitas was done.
Now, he just wanted to rest.
He turned on his crutches, and began to walk away.
It was time to head home.
Or, at least, one stop away from home.
But first, he had to gather Sienna and Whitley and the rest of his team for the ride out of the continent...
And he needed to pay Pietro and Cammie a quick visit.
(And what he asked of them, they delivered.)
Eleven days after the Battle of Mantle...
Vale looked like it was finally beginning to recover.
The walls had crumbled, many of the city's buildings, big and small, were smashed, and various Atlesian warships and fighters filled the roads and streets, some of them flattening entire rows and blocks and turning into twisting monuments of scrap. Law and order had broken down across swaths of the city, and what was left of the council was too busy hiding away in the shelters to intervene.
More power to Beacon then, to build on what was left.
And yet, the attention of the various students within Vale's walls shifted, pausing in their tasks of propping up buildings and clearing the streets of the rubble as they stared at an ancient radio that had been dug out of a museum, with a single message printed out on a paper sheet from its body.
[S-O-R-R-Y-A-B-O-U-T-T-H-E-U-N-C-O-N-V-E-N-T-I-N-A-L-W-A-Y-O-F-M-E-S-S-A-G-I-N-G]
[C-C-T-N-E-T-W-O-R-K-I-S-S-T-I-L-L-D-O-W-N-G-L-O-B-A-L-L-Y]
[E-R-I-A-N-D-P-I-E-T-R-O-A-R-E-B-O-O-S-T-I-N-G-T-H-E-S-I-G-N-A-L-F-R-O-M-S-O-L-I-T-A-S]
[G-O-T-S-T-U-C-K-I-N-A-C-O-M-A-B-E-F-O-R-E-H-E-L-P-I-N-G-T-O-S-E-T-U-P-A-N-E-W-C-I-T-Y]
[G-O-I-N-G-T-O-R-E-S-T-I-N-J-E-W-E-L-F-O-R-A-W-H-I-L-E-B-E-F-O-R-E-G-O-I-N-G-B-A-C-K-T-O-B-E-A-C-O-N]
[S-E-E-Y-O-U-A-L-L-T-H-E-N]
No follow up. No reply. Almost no context.
Just that.
Ruby's eye twitched.
Melanie just crushed the rubble in her hand to dust, and her semblance involuntarily flared.
"Pack your bags... We're going to Jewel."
Reviewer response time:
MilitiaMasker: Welp, now we're finally on the path back to seeing them again! And only after half a year!
bosterflaming: Yeah, I like to think so too.
avatarlopes: Thank you for the compliments! And I might do another short stories about the Daughter in the future, depending on wherever I can think of something good for her! And don't you worry about Lil' Miss Malachite! I'll find something good for her in the future...
And here we are, at the beginning of the next arc! Or in this case, the epilogue to Phase One of this story!
Yeah, this chapter is more of a way for me to tie up some loose ends, particularly that of General James Ironwood.
Would it surprised any of you to know that I actually didn't have any plans for Ironwood?
Seriously, if I could've just killed him offscreen like I did for Vine and Elm, I would've. But he's already been featured as a minor character previously, and I needed to do something with him to make sure that I had all of my bases covered.
The thing about writing this story is that I have a lot of what I consider to be good ideas, but I can't do them all because that would impact the quality of the story and bog it down. At the same time there are some characters that I just don't know what to do with, so I just do my best to get rid of them before anyone can ask about them.
That's the thing about writing fanfictions: You tend to be stuck with a bunch of already existing characters that you have no idea what to do with.
It sucks, but that's how it is.
So yeah, this was just me addressing the issue of Ironwood, and getting it out of the way with. If I leave him alive now, then I can do something with him later, and his semblance has just too much dang potential for me to ignore!
So, I'mma just shelf that for later.
Anyways, with all of that done and dusted, please leave a review, follow and favourite, and with that, I shall see you all next time!
Titanmaster 117 out!