Chapter 13: Noble House

Monumental as the Schnee dining room was, James would rather be anywhere else at that moment in time. He sat at one end of the long banquet table, surrounded by the freshest, most diverse delicacies found in the Schnee he'd never been the kind of pay much mind to what food he consumed, it was daily obvious even to him that it'd been prepared my a most experienced chef.

Though he was unable to touch his food, Jacques feasted on the other end. The sight and scent of the food would've made his stomach growl in need were he not aware of how it had been prepared. It was a recent trend with him, he was becoming more aware, both of his failures and its consequences, and this was one of them. Time in captivity on the detention camp, playfully nicknamed "The Dungeon" by the few guards who worked there, had that effect on him. He had the time alone, to think, to reflect upon the past. It'd taken so much of his attention as a free man that he'd even neglected some basic needs, such as shaving his beard, drinking, or as it happened in that moment, eating.

Perhaps in the past he would've attacked Roman and his cronies on sight, in the narrow minded pursuit of his goals. Presently, he differed in thought. He'd been taken from one affliction to another, now keenly aware of the failing of his Military.

Jacques cleared his throat after laboriously swallowing a piece of steak, "Is something the matter? I had my best servants cook this, it's been too long since we've last seen each other after all."

James glanced up from his plate, it wasn't an image he'd been inspecting, in fact his attention had been mostly focused inwards, on his own thoughts.

"No," James answered. He didn't feel like humoring Jacques, regardless if the man was the mind behind his rescue. There were dozens of servants at the edges of the room, but the woman at his side nudged away, dissociating herself from the irreverent relic of the past.

She was a faunus, some kind of rodent as far Jacques noticed her ears.

He could tell how she'd been dressed up for the occasion, given a brand new maid's dress, a black one that covered her from neck to ankle. To notice all the pertinent details, he had to actively suppress his semblance, deny himself the increased processing that cost him foresight, caused 'tunnel vision'. The woman, paid servant or not, wore a slave collar, and the dolled-up makeup did wonders to hide the scars on her neck. It was the type of collar he'd wilfully ignored in the past as long as they looked like jewelry. He'd allowed it to happen in multiple ways, because appeased Nobles offered more money for his ventures, and the ever present need for androids, for machine and mortar could only be produced with such resources. James had told himself that it was for the greater good of humanity.

All of his past excuses were shattered years ago during his confinement, like frail illusions they were ruined when he learned of the Grimm's newfound ability to control androids.

His effort had been for naught, and he had only himself to blame.

With the benefit of hindsight, he could see how the bliss of ignorance was nothing but poison. In his willingness to do anything to end the Grimm, he'd stooped to harming his own people, he'd inflicted slavery and death for the sake of percentile improvements upon troops, paid for with the blood of faunus and false smiles of Nobles.

Now he sat there face to face with the man he'd made deals with in the past, and bile threatened to rise in his throat.

"Say, are the new prosthetics comfortable?' Jacques tried again. He referred to the replacements of the last robotic arm and leg James relied on. The new models were fairly more advanced, with better response and range of movement, as well as improved energy efficiency.

"Quite." Ironwood said. When he had little respect to give, he defaulted to simple and direct answers.

Patience seemed to wear thin within Jacques, He ran a hand over his mouth, "Why don't we skip pleasantries?"

James Ironwood still distantly remembered some of the Noble manners. The man likely thought him rude, and he couldn't find it in himself to care. "Sure."

Jacques pushed his plate aside, "I'm certain you've had the time to update yourself on current affairs. Atlas and its current campaign being a fairly obvious one."

James straightened himself on his seat, "I have."

"You see then how this is quite the problem. That new General of theirs is quite the thorn on my side."

Ironwood failed to see how he should care about any of it, but he kept the thought to himself. "Arthur Watts, I remember him. Is he the reason you had this place built?"

"General Watts… The man has… Well, we'll get to it when we get to it. I hear your execution was scheduled for today?" Jacques said, the casual tone of which made James suspect his intentions. That much would never change, for as long as he was still sane.

James fixed his gaze on Jacques, "Maybe. I might've lost the sense of time, there were no clocks on the cell."

"It was not an easy feat rescuing you," Jacques said, "Even with my money and connections. In all honesty I was simply directing some of my agents when they happened to catch wind of the rumors, let's say it was a good opportunity presenting itself to us both."

His agents, James thought. It was one kind of obfuscation, as a man of the military he knew that the only security Jacques had in the past was the security he'd allowed him to have, the soldiers were still under the wing of the military, and if Watts was depriving him of something, then he likely deprived him of security too. Jacques could only refer to smugglers like Torchwick, and the fact he attempted to omit it told him the Schnee likely made deals with others of the least savory kind too.

He felt a quiet sense of amusement at his thoughts, he didn't think there would be a day he'd consider Torchwick one of the least harmful smugglers.

"And," James interjected, "I suppose the military-grade Tundra Strider was simply a means to an end?"

Slowly, Jacques realized the implication, "Ah… You know how smugglers are. It never matters how good security is, or how unbreakable the warehouse, they'll always find a way in. If they steal one or two vehicles… Then at least we know what they're running with."

"An unorthodox way to gather intelligence, I must admit," James said, noncommittally.

"A necessary one. I'm afraid after your… Unfortunate but temporary departure the military has been more difficult to work with the past couple of years. As you can see the results have been fairly harmful to everyone. Thankfully, I am in a privileged position to take action."

James remained silent as Jacques continued, "You see, I have met with Watts a fair number of times, and it was shown to me the man is flawed, despite the image he projects as of late. I believe he can be taken from his seat, even if he essentially rules Atlas now."

But to do so you need my help, James thought. He'd play the fool, let the Schnee think he was still the ignorant general of the past.

James broke the short silence, "I have seen the consequences. Your servant-"

Jacques raised a hand, "Housemaid," he corrected, if only to maintain the thin veil of civility.

James sighed internally before continuing, "... Your maid delivered me the scroll. The Grimm having control of androids is a problem, but the hybrids are a major threat. We should deal with them as soon as possible."

"This is why I like you," Jacques said, painting an index finger as he leaned into the table, "You're the only other man in this room who really understands the severity of problems."

It was an attempt to soften Ironwood, he could tell, but it didn't mean he could not play along with it, lean into the assumed camaraderie that never was, and would never be. He kept his disgust from showing, "And I assume the other noble houses don't?" He gestured to the empty table, "I can't say the empty table fills me with confidence."

"They'll see it," Jacques said, "Right now, Atlas is trying to take over everything I own, and the minor houses know it. Maybe they're even siding with the military, they probably hope to survive after it's all said and done."

"But we both know it never ends there."

"Exactly. Just as Watts was going to make an example of you, he's trying to make an example of me, every week he demands more and more Dust. Even my vaults aren't bottomless, and what will be of Solitas without my Dust?"

Difficult as it was, Ironwood repressed his semblance again, to read between the words. There was something the Schnee wasn't telling him, and it bothered the ex-General. He'd completely neglected to mention how those hybrids even worked after all, and James suspected it was related to the SDC, same as how in the past they'd aided in creating androids. His instincts told him the Schnee had his hand on that creation too.

Ah, so that's your game, Schnee. He kept the satisfaction from showing, But Ironwood had pieced the puzzle back together, he only had to continue playing the fool.

"It is worrisome," James said. "Is that the point of this?"

Jacques scoffed, "Of course not. I mention all of this because you must see now how that man must be stopped, for the good of everyone, of course."

"Of course. But you know I'm only one man, I doubt my authority will be recognized by now, and I don't exactly have my Ace Ops with me at the moment-"

Some servants flinched as the door behind Ironwood slammed open, the sound echoing through the hall. The person who stood in the doorway caused James the instinctive "fight" reaction, the man's mocking grin was something he'd rather never see again.

"Well that's where I come in!" Torchwick said as he firmly planted his walking cane on the marble floor in front of him, both hands on the handle. Ironwood hated it, Roman didn't even need one to walk.A pair of servants followed Roman, and as they tried to tell him to leave the dining hall, he merely stood there.

Jacques waved them away, "Leave him."

Roman turned to James, "Well now, nobody invited me for this banquet."

James clenched his jaw for a moment, "Maybe there was a reason for that."

Roman made a so-so gesture as he walked to the table, "Maybe… But let's just say I was passing by and I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. How's that?"

Jacques pressed a palm to his face, "I did point you to your quarters."

Pulling the chair by Ironwood's side, Roman sat himself down, "And I've been properly pointed! Now, I believe the man here had questions?"

"Go ahead," Jacques sighed.

"Well James, it's pretty simple. I've got the men, you've got the experience leading them, it's a match made in heaven! And if we need, I always know how to get us more."

"You mean the White Fang?" James asked.

"Of course not. That was one a one time thing from five years ago, okay? No, I've got something better than that… Your own men!"

If words could physically strike someone, Roman's would've knocked James out then and there. He hesitated for a moment…

"What," James finally asked.

"You heard that right. As it turns out you can buy someone's loyalty after all! I must say, your men and women are very skilled. They're nowhere near Huntsmen or Specialists… but I think it'll do for now."

Blinded by anger, James growled his words, "How did you-"

Roman waved his index finger from side to side, "Nah-ah! That's a secret I'm not sharing so soon. Anyhow, it's a pretty airtight plan. We've got the men, you've got the experience leading them, and a clear-cut target, what's there not to like? You'll get to be the hero of Atlas!"

James stared him in the eyes, his expression serious, "And you want me to believe you'd just let me take control of my men?"

Roman smiled, "Oh no, they're my men now. You'll be more of an advisor, they'll only listen to me. But after it's all said and done, as long as you look the other way when I'm around, you'll get all the credit, every last bit of it."

For as madedning as it was to Ironwood, he sincerely considered the offer. Being able to control his men there was so much more he could do, even if indirectly. There was a possibility he'd be able to do things right that time, there was a chance he'd be able to make a difference.

But he knew the real meaning behind the offer, the only reason it was made to him was because both men at the table believed him to be a simpleton. He had only to consider the information he knew, and his semblance did the rest. He let the walls come down, to focus and increase his thought process.

The facts he had in mind were: The SDC had been pivotal in creating the Grimm hybrids used by present-day Atlas, there was no way to hide the snowflake emblem. Atlas, or more accurately Watts wanted the possession of the SDC, and he likely wanted the act done flawlessly instead of practically.

Then there was the fact that he had no guards of his own, no androids or much other than the hired smugglers. He'd been relegated to hit-and-run tactics, furtivity. Jacques simply couldn't afford to show it but soon enough the SDC would belong to Atlas. He was fighting a losing battle

That was why they wanted Ironwood, as a scapegoat. If he failed, Jacques would simply pin the efforts on him. Should he succeed, there would be no reason for Jacques to keep him alive. Taking down Watts had ramifications of its own, it meant crippling the military as a whole. And if the military was crippled…

Then the SDC would take over, and Ironwood had no reason to believe it would be any different.

He knew what to do, but it required finesse, something he unfortunately lacked, at least when compared to the likes of Glynda. There was one piece of information he had to know.

"And what if I don't? From where I'm standing it seems as if you both have a good plan, what if I want to retire. Leave my military days behind?"

The smile left Roman's face, Jacques glanced at him with a stern look.

"Simply put, you'll die."

James had suspected it, but the moment he heard the words was still a shock, "How so?"

James leaned back into his seat, "It's simple, really."

A moment later, pain shot through Ironwood's body, directly from the half of body directly connected to the artificial limbs. He lost control as electricity assailed him, falling to the ground as he writhed in agony. He'd experienced it before, but never in such concentration, and with his jaw reflexively clenched shut he could only scream through his teeth. All throughout it, Jacques merely walked around the table, towards him.

The pain stopped as Jacques finally continued, "I hoped it wouldn't have to come to this, but here we are. What do you say?"

James panted as he painfully raised himself from the ground, first to a knee, then to his feet. The damned Schnee had implanted a killswitch on his prosthetics at a time Ironwood was too weak to even consider such a threat. Would it have a dead man's switch, in case he killed Jacques himself?

James cursed internally, but he could still make it work. There was a way to betray the Schnee, even if he had to play along for now. He offered a hand, and Jacques smiled as he shook it.