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His 'vacation' turned out to be anything but a vacation, in the end. On the second day of it, a ping came in on his Scroll that summoned him to Atlas Academy's library for 'pre-entry schooling, testing and academic vetting'. What all that meant he found out when he got outside and found a car waiting, a soldier old enough that his curly hair matched his white Atlesian service coat leaning against it. Seeing his approach, the man pushed off the car and flicked his cigarette away, leaving a door open for him and climbing into the driver's seat.
"Cram school." The man explained when he asked, "To get you up to speed on shit someone from the city would already know."
"Ah…"
"Gotta warn ya though, kid." The man murmured, turning to look at him when they hit a red light. Jaune's eyebrows rose and the old soldier chuckled and shook his head, "You thought MI training down in ye olde TC was bad? Cram School is hell of a whole 'nother kind."
"How do you mean?"
"TC broke your body to recondition it into somethin' worth a damn. Right?" Jaune nodded and the man bobbed his head with a 'there you go' kind of expression and Jaune groaned. As the car began to roll forward again the man chuckled, "Yeah, see, you got it. Don't worry 'bout it, kid. You can do it."
"Yeah." He nodded, "I can."
The first week of the, to his mind at least, very aptly named Cram school was filled with the kinds of things one would expect Hunter trainees to have learned in the past. Hours and hours of exercises in Aura control, to drill into him the instinctive reaction needed to protect him in combat. He learned fast, motivated by the stinging pellets fired by older year Hunter trainees that had volunteered to 'help' him learn quickly, and soon moved on from that lesson.
Next, on the third day of the first week and on through the second week, came Grimm Studies. Tracking them in the snow and forest, identifying armored Grimm weak points, memorizing known pack tactics and the like. Everything a young Specialist would ever need to identify a Grimm threat and how best to deal with it quickly and easily. The faster one identified a threat, the fast they could react to and deal with it, or so he was told was the reasoning.
It made sense to him, at least, so he didn't argue with the logic. Though he probably wouldn't have even if it didn't, given how busy and exhausted he was from the studying and endless testing.
"You've done well, Specialist Private." The instructor he'd been placed under complimented towards the end of the third week, which had been spent mainly on things like arithmetic and engineering techniques.
Supplementals, he'd been told. Things that were useful to know, but things that weren't required for him to get by. Even if they would look better in his records if he passed tests on them, for later positions. What had been important, he'd passed. Mathematics, basic Atlesian history and cultural understanding, Aura usage and application and, of course, Grimm studies and combat.
"I had a good teacher, Sir." Mister Wood was a good teacher, if an absolute fossil of a man.
A retired soldier as well, lacking his left arm entirely but dressed in a uniform regardless. How he lost it, Jaune didn't know. The only scar he could see were the claw marks on the side of his head. On his right hip, in spite of his age and bony fingers, he carried a large sidearm. And those sharp brown eyes told Jaune well enough that the old teacher could use it very well.
"Flattery will get you nowhere but officer's school, Arc." The man joked, earning a smile from his young ward. Nodding his head the old man turned his back on the young, shuffling through the Atlesian classroom and toward the desk at the head of it. As he went, Jaune followed, carrying a stack of folders for him that he laid on the desk. "Thank you, young man. But I'm told you're needed in the outfitter's now, my boy. Ahead of your first deployment."
"My first deployment?" He murmured, brows furrowing in confusion. "But I thought I had to attend classes come Academy start?"
"You will be briefed, no doubt." The man answered, easing into his chair and groaning. As he worked, flipping through Jaune's last test to begin gading, he mused, "Normally I'm supposed to grade all assignments before a Specialist Private can be deployed." Eyes flicking to Jaune he added, quiet enough to almost be conspiratorial, "I would question why, exactly, you are an exception, young man."
Jaune had no answer to that and, with another wave of the one-armed soldier's hand, went on his way. Lead by a drone, he was escorted through now-busy hallways, full of teachers and prospective students who would, in a couple days' time, be sent to their Initiations. Many of both groups noticed his coat and rank on his shoulder, some of the teachers paying him a small and polite nod for it and many of the students watching him pass in awe. The latter mostly for the coat, rather than the rank.
He didn't mind any of either, of course.
"Your equipment is in the locker at the back, Arc, J. Locker number 1-5-6-4." The machine intoned when he was brought, rather than the outfitter's, to the equipment locker room. The place where students would, in future, store their equipment between usage. "Proceed quickly. You are requested for a special briefing in fifteen minutes, Sir."
A special briefing? That sounded… Ominous, in more ways than one. But the machine didn't answer him, obviously, simply standing there impassively and waiting for him to get into his equipment so he could attend the briefing.
He'd asked for a suit of Atlesian standard armor to be made for him, since he'd been trained in it and knew it well. What he found was similar, with the broad shoulder armor and simple plated greaves and boots he knew so well. The wide, thick chestplate already instilled him with ingrained comfort, looking at it, and he knew he'd feel comfortable in it. His helmet was similar, too, but different. Instead of an open mouth his was covered by a thin piece of armor that, judging by the hinge on the back of the jaw, could low to rest in front of his chin instead of his mouth. The visor had been tweaked as well, made of semi-opaque ballistic glass rather than the metal armor of his training helmet.
Beyond that, the armor was the same as he'd been trained to wear, and as he got into the armor he found he kind of preferred the ballistic glass front over the metal one. More open feeling, leaving most of his nose and all of his eyes visible behind the glass. And without the worry about his helmet's power running dry and rendering him blind.
As tiny a worry as that had always been, it was a nice one to be rid of.
His rifle was much the same as his armor, in that it was exactly the same in every way except for the small details. Sleek and silver, it was how he remembered it, and felt comfortable in his arms. At the back, just in front of the stock, a holo-sight had been installed for him to use. When he sighted down it, his helmet lit up with a small circle that traced along wherever his sight was pointing. A crack at his poor aim and a joke from Specialist Ebi, he was sure, but not one he begrudged if it helped him not get killed in a firefight.
And to be honest, that kind of helpful joke was something he'd kind of expected.
What he hadn't expected was a long, gift-wrapped box crammed into the locker behind his armor. Attached to the front, under the brightly colored decorative bow, was a letter. A letter that he sat down on the little locker bench behind him to read, not wanting to stand around in the heavy armor, even as used to it as he was.
"Your mother was furious with me and you both when she found out." The letter started, written with as little preamble as he would expect from a letter from his father. He wasn't impatient or anything, really, but he also wasn't one to mince words or waste time. The next bit did have him chuckling, though. "Beat me hard enough to break her metal ladles, sent me to get new ones, and broke a couple of those smacking the fire out of me for helping you. Once she calmed down, though, she suggested sending you a gift. You always loved your grandfather and all his stories, so wear it with pride."
"Wear it with pride…" It took a moment and he blinked, sitting straight and turning to look at the long box. It was about the right length, but… "No way." He murmured, standing up and dropping the letter in the bottom of his locker. Yanking it out he felt the weight and smiled, shaking his head. "He did not do what I think he did."
Like a kid eager to rip into his birthday presents, Jaune set to work on the wrapped box. It was childish, and he knew it was unbecoming of a man in armor, but he couldn't help it. What he suspected was coming was too much for him to contain himself. When the paper came off and the lid slid off, though, he froze for a moment to look at the ancestral weapon.
A fresh blue handle wrapping had been put on the grip, and the guard had been widened just a bit, but otherwise it looked the same as it had hanging on the wall back in Ansel. A simple leather belt had been sent with it and he wasted no time pulling the belt out and tying it around his waist. But for the weapon itself, he spared a moment of reverence and respect, gently lifting it from its box and latching it onto his belt.
When he drew it, the metal scraped gently and musically as the blade came free, fitting in his hand as though designed to it. The weight was comfortable, the weapon well-balanced, and with it he felt like he could slay a dragon. Holding it up so the edge caught the light he smiled and murmured, "Crocea Mors… One more step."
"Because that doesn't sound nerdy at all." A voice called, making him squawk and spin around. A dark-skinned young woman was at the door waiting for him, impatiently checking her clock and frowning. "You're going to make us late, Arc. Have made us late, in fact, by my calculation. By four minutes."
"I-I'm sorry…?" He blinked and grimed, sheathing his sword on his waist and clearing his throat. "I'm, uh, sorry, but I don't think we've met. I'm Specialist Private Jaune Arc. And you are…?"
"Specialist Private Ciel Soleil." The woman answered, offering a small nod of greeting. That was it for politeness, though, as she turned and began to walk away. As she went, and he made to follow for reasons he couldn't place, she explained, "I was sent to get you and escort you to the briefing room as things are… A bit unique at the moment, and we wanted to make sure we didn't run behind."
"Oh." He blinked, "Uh, thank you, then, for-"
"Also, I thought you'd get lost or make us very late." She cut in, never once turning to look at him over her shoulder. Somehow, though, he could feel the snark and agitation rolling off of her as she said, "And now we are five minutes behind schedule."
"Okay, okay, sorry." She sighed and sped up and, armor clanking as he did, Jaune tried to match her.
Atlas Academy's layout was a relatively simple one to Jaune, either because it made sense to a military mind or just because it was a simple layout. The complex was circular, with the dorm rooms, student mess hall, classes an, closest to the other side, the sparring halls. The other side of the great circle that was the Academy was the military structure, where his room and those of other Specialists were, as well as the barracks and full messess for the Naval Infantry and Mobile Infantry stationed in the Academy. Between the two were the armories, maintenance and modification rooms, each side used, capped on either side by small checkpoints manned by equally small teams of soldiers and drones to make sure no one did anything out of form.
In the center of it, rising above it all and with the same small checkpoints at each hallway connection, was High Command. Where the Headmaster Of Atlas Academy oversaw the education of his students, the assignments of his faculty, and the curriculums and equipment allocations assigned to classes. On the other side, and from the same desk, the General of Atlas commanded concentric rings of offices, command suites and briefing rooms where the most important decisions were made to protect the entirety of the Kingdom of Atlas, and the city of Mantle below.
He was led by the young woman to one of those small briefing rooms, with a long table and chair setup like the one he'd eaten dinner with Miss Nikos at. Albeit with less fine design and quality than the high end hotel had had, obviously. No leather chairs or steak dinners that he could see, at least, which was a damn shame by his estimations.
"Sit." The young woman commanded, speaking like someone with bars on her shoulder even though she only came up to his.
He sighed, though, and let her have her way, sitting in a chair towards the back of the room and laying his rifle on the table beside him. She nodded and sat opposite him, hands folded on the table and eyes locked on the door. Quietly, she murmured a count to herself like she was running down an internal alarm in her head. But Huntresses were weirder than the tundra was white, young or old, so he let it go and waited with her.
Instead, after a full minute he asked, "So, uh, you're going for normal Specialist. Right?" she gave him a look, one brow raised, and he waved a hand at her, "You're young and not in armor. Specialist Ebi told me most MI boys that transfer into Specialist training run in standard MI armor for a while. And I don't remember you down in the TC."
"The TC…?"
"The Training Camp." And that she didn't know the little acronym, judging by her blink and nod at least, sold him on the fact she wasn't one. And so, instead of reasking what was now a dumb question, he asked, "What's it like, being a Huntress?"
"Technically, I'm a student." She pointed out, sighing when he only shrugged and cocked his head to the side in a clear 'So?' gesture. Sighing and seemingly put out by his questions, she began to talk. "It's a hard but worthwhile endeavor. And I'm honored to be able to give myself to the protection of Atlas and Mantle."
"And…?"
"And that's all." She shrugged, seemingly confused by his confusion. A finely manicured brow rose and the woman asked, "What's it like being a soldier? Since you asked what it's like being a Huntress, I mean."
"Shitty." He answered simply, chuckling when both the woman's eyebrows shot into her hairline. "You wake up ass early, you break your back drilling and freezing your ass off, and you get screamed at all day by the Instructor Sergeant. It's shitty, painful, frigid, and worse." He shrugged, "But end of the day it's probably worth it."
"Probably…?"
"I mean yeah. Won't know if I like enlisting until I'm older, and have actually gotten out there to do my job. But if it lets me help people..." He gave another shrug and adjusted in his seat, armor not really fitting in with the chair under him. Quietly, he gave a weak little laugh and shrugged yet again, "I mean, if I get to help people, I guess it will have been worth it."
"I suppose that is-" The door behind him opened and the woman's dark eyes widened, shooting to her feet and snapping a salute, "Specialist Schnee, Ma'am."
"At ease and in your seats, Privates." The famous Specialist snapped out before he'd even turned and risen to pay her the same respects. Slowly, and after a nod from Ciel, he eased back into his seat. At the front of the table she turned, sliding them each a small folder and ordering, "Sign your names on these forms. Their secondary confidentiality consent forms for sensitive missions."
"Sensitive missions…?"
"Sign it and find out, Specialist Arc." The woman snapped, taking a seat at the end of the table and waiting with a single thick folder of her own in front of her. He gave Ciel a look just in time to see her close her packet and push it down the table and sighed, shaking his head and setting to work signing it himself. When it was done the woman nodded and leaned back in her chair, "I'd like to preamble with the fact that this is not your run of the mill assignment. Arc, you've been chosen because of your age, and the fact you are the only MI Specialist transferring into Atlas Academy."
"All right…"
"And Miss Soleil is one of the best students from Atlas Academy. And thoroughly vetted as well, of course, which is needed for an assignment opportunity such as this. A spotless record has gone a long way for both of you in that regard." The young woman only nodded quietly, seeing no apparent need to speak. Specialist Schnee didn't seem to mind, though, and went on quietly. "I am here to offer the both of you a chance to enter Project Winter's Grasp. A research initiative requiring the utmost secrecy and a willingness to fight in its defence. As well as the decorum not to dig for information above your clearance level. Those papers were you consenting to do so but I would hear it as well."
"I understand."
"As long as it's nothing bad…"
"It isn't, and I am glad you have a conscience, though I hope you have more trust in your superiors than to question the matter." He grimaced and nodded and the woman seemed satisfied. "Very good. I must warn you that the first leg of the operation may try your patience a bit. I assure you that she is a good person, though, and will get along easily with you." Raising her voice, she called out, "Come in and meet your new team."
The door flew open to reveal a young girl with bright eyes and orange hair, beaming widely at them. She bounced into the room and cheered, "Hello, new friends! Oh I so look forward to working with you!"
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Okay so the description of the classes was kinda shitty. Sorry. Doing this in my spare time, so I put my focus into my full stories rather than this more passion project one. Apologies for the lacking of polish.
So, I finally got a proper direction, rather than just the theme as I had before now, for this story out of reviews and my own thoughts. As this is a fun story, not a standard one, I hadn't gotten one yet. Now I do, though.
Also, as always, tiny advisory not to expect normal large chapters. This is a fun side-series for me, though I am happy you are happy reading it.
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It's just another primate :
Why wouldn't I care? Also, Arkos isn't quite where I'm going with this all.
Reader (Guest) :
As of now at least, it isn't Arkos. Going for a different theme that meant I needed Pyrrha in here.
Josh Spicer :
As of now, it won't be Arkos. Not why I included her.
Shadoath :
A bit, but then, every story is convenience when you get down to it. *shrugs*