The Breach of Vale

by Mawkish Warden

Your people have risen to create civilisations meant to last an eternity. You have erected walls and groomed your young to fight, making the old and weak forget about the monsters that hunger for their souls. You know it's only a matter of time before your illusion of safety is shattered forever. Let me show you that the time has come. Let me show you that it's time for war.

3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Dozens of airships were shown holding position in a loose formation on Jaune's scroll. Transports, gunships and fighters were combining to form the first response wave against the Grimm. By the minute, their numbers increased, as more and more vessels poured in from Beacon Academy and Atlas' ships. There was a notable lack of elements from Vale's own Navy or Air Force, though that was likely because they were either still hauling ass to get to the fight or assembling at other rally points before launching their own counterattacks.

They'd been waiting for almost a quarter of an hour, and by now, Jaune was restless. He wasn't privy to make the judgement of when they were ready, but every second spent gathering their forces meant more people dying without their help.

Then the order came.

From the Oxhide's speakers, a voice boomed, "All units, Operation Resurgence is go. I say again, Operation Resurgence is go. Proceed to the designated AO."

For half a second, the world remained unchanged. Then Jaune's ears were filled with the roar of engines, as every airship within several hundred metres, including his own, lurched forward in a mad dash for the Residential District.

He heard Nora let out a whoop of enthusiasm, eager that they were finally moving to the action. And although he remained silent, the young swordsman let out a smile of relief.

He was dimly aware of the increasing volume of radio chatter transmitted to and from various units, spontaneously catching a few phrases here and there. He heard reports of aerial Grimm attacking from the Breach that would most likely attempt to engage their craft, which gave him pause. Being in a metal coffin hundreds of metres above the ground was bad enough. But going in with the threat of being plucked out of said coffin by an oversized bird? He was glad he didn't have any breakfast to throw up from the thought.

Just as luck would have it, the Oxhide's internal speakers broadcasted, "Break. Break. All units, this is Watch Master. We have confirmation of flying hostiles inbound. Reaper, Thunder and Hellcat Flights. Move to intercept. How copy? Over."

On cue, a screech penetrated the whine of engines and conversation. It was small, and muffled, which Jaune guessed meant whatever had made it was far away. But there was no doubt just where its shriek had been aimed at. And it was soon followed by more.

He chanced a glance out of the cockpit glass. He saw small silhouettes, which he had assumed were plumes of smoke, steadily grow and form into cross-sections of large avian creatures, which he immediately recognised as Nevermores.

Bone-chilling as the Grimm's call was, the radio was soon alive with the drawl of pilots.

"Reaper Flight copies. Moving to engage. Out."

"Thunder Flight breaking off. On interception course with hostiles. Out."

"Hellcat Flight acknowledges. Most kills wins. Out."

And with that, nearly twenty aircraft zipped ahead of the main group, leaving slipstreams in their wake. Not long afterward, Jaune saw flashes of light from one side, and flecks of black from the other, as the two groups battled for air supremacy. Whispering a quick prayer for the pilots, he heard an update.

"Watch Master. This is Pitcher Flight. We are en route with Strike Team CFVY to LZ Avanti. ETA 60 seconds. Out."

"Pitcher Flight. Watch Master copies. Out."

Pitcher Flight was the quartet of VTOLs transporting them to the target building.

The Oxhide's doors began retracting, letting more of the sun back into the compartment. Jaune was treated to an urban sprawl rapidly transitioning into the high-rise of downtown Vale. Every so often, he could spot a roadblock, full of flashing sirens and barricades, and the lines of traffic that were halted by them. Automated city defences had been activated, their turrets and caltrops providing another layer for the Grimm to push against. Soon, he could see and hear active signs of combat, as gunfire from police and built-in defences clashed with the roar of beasts.

Interspersed in the fighting was the occasional flare of vibrant clothing and custom weapons symbolising the presence of a Hunter or Huntress. Not ones like Jaune who were still crawling their way through training, but fully-fledged warriors – each a one-man army in their own right and the certified badasses of Remnant. Jaune wouldn't have been surprised if some of them had been on a morning run or taking a day off after a long venture outside the city walls, only to switch back into combat mode the moment a Grimm crashed right back into their priorities. The sight of these heroes cleaving through so many monsters, even if some of them were by themselves and without any support, eased his mind.

"This is 1-1. I have visual on the LZ."

He knew the Oxhides' official designations were Pitcher 1-1, Pitcher 1-2, etc. But Jaune supposed they were just saying the number to save time.

Avanti Town Centre was a moderately sized building with a square foundation. Its many glass windows and panes had been shuttered with sheets of metal. Seven stories tall, its once pristine white walls were pocket-marked with scratches and other embellishments from the fighting that had already occurred. Its two main entryways at street level were barricaded, and being clawed at and rammed by the Grimm, who snarled as they were pelted by bullets and grenades from the upper floors.

"10 seconds," said one of the pilots.

"10 seconds. Copy."

"1-3, 1-4. Give those guys in the streets a gun run. 1-2. With me."

"1-2 copies."

"1-3. Solid copy."

"1-4. Roger. Guns, guns, guns."

The thrum of one of the Oxhides firing its primary weapon at the encroaching Grimm hit Jaune's ears. Countless rounds flew out of the VTOL's multi-barrelled Chain Gun and sliced through the creatures infesting the roads and pathways. It felt both exhilarating and slightly mortifying to watch the rain of lead and shell casings.

The roof of the town centre had a single landing pad, which JNPR and the other teams would use for their insertion. They would have to go in one Oxhide at a time, so long as–

"Pitcher Flight. This is Thunder 3-1. Be advised, incoming hostiles at your three. Over."

Jaune, and the rest of JNPR jerked their heads to the right, where a trio of Nevermores being pursued by a pair of Atlesian fighters were banking towards them. One of the fighters fired a controlled burst with its autocannons, the rounds detonating near or in a Nevermore's behind. With a screech of pain, the flying monster drew itself up to launch a storm of deceptively sharp feathers in retaliation.

"We see them, Thunder 3-1," one of the Oxhide pilots responded, "moving to assist. Over."

Their landing temporarily aborted, the quartet of transports aimed their chin-mounted chain guns. "1-1. Guns, guns, guns."

"1-2. Guns, guns, guns."

Jaune felt the floor beneath him rumble, as scores of rounds were discharged at supersonic speeds from his Oxhide at the flying monsters. Concentrated fire brought one down, cleaving through its black skin and almost sawing the avian in half.

"Negative, Pitcher," Jaune heard one of the fighters say, his strained voice conveying a hint of urgency. "Unload your chalk and get the hell o–"

The second Nevermore screeched in frustration and took off, presumably to rejoin the rest of its brethren. The final one, pierced from all sides, let out a dying cry. But in its unceremonious plummet, it made one last dash for the Oxhides. Jaune could only watch in horror as talons sunk into one of the VTOLs and a flailing wing caught its engines, dragging the transport down with it.

"Ah shit. I'm hit!"

"1-1's going down!"

Pitcher 1-1 was the second-years', Team CFVY's, Oxhide.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday. We've got an Oxhide going down."

"1-1. What's your status?"

"Both engines out! Losing control!"

As the two birds, one flesh and one metal, fell from the skies, they began spinning. First slowly, then rapidly accelerating, as the pilot helplessly struggled with her controls.

"Pitcher 1-1 is going down."

"1-1's hit!"

"1-1 has lost her engines and is spinning out."

Fixated on the dance of death before him, Jaune only then noticed that CFVY's Oxhide and the Nevermore were getting uncomfortably close to the town centre's roof. People who had emerged to receive the VTOLs found themselves scrambling back downstairs like ants from a boot.

Overwhelmed by a surge of despair, Jaune looked away as the Oxhide, still in the Nevermore's clutches, descended the final few metres to ground level. A heart-wrenching crash followed, and he dared to look back, seeing the Oxhide dug in at an angle on the streets below, thankfully having missed Avanti. The Nevermore, on the other hand had been, for lack of a better term, scraped off the Oxhide on the town centre, its now disintegrating form draped on the roof to create a sickening layer of oozing smoke.

White noise filled his ears, as a final report was made on CFVY's transport.

"We've got an Oxhide down. I say again, we've got an Oxhide down."

The edges of Jaune's vision blurred slightly, and he found himself hit by a wave of dizziness. With one fell swoop, his Strike Team's leadership had been swatted from the sky. And even if Team CFVY survived the crash, there would be no guarantee they'd be in fighting condition. The landing pad was currently covered in a very large and very toxic Grimm. More of the creatures were still pressing at the main entrances, with some becoming very interested in the metal monstrosity that had just crash-landed in front of them.

And right then, Jaune just wanted to give up. He wanted to curl into a ball and hide from the horrors below him. Let them maim, rampage and slaughter until it was all over. Dimly, he was aware of the pilots desperately trying to contact the downed Oxhide, only to receive static. The crew chiefs were occupied with firing their miniguns into the Grimm below, their spinning barrels and deafening fire trying to keep the horde away from their fellow crewmen. He wanted to tell them he was finished. He couldn't fight. He was done.

And then, it passed.

He was panicking. He needed to get control over himself and rally the remaining teams. If they failed here, Vale would lose a staging point that it would otherwise have to expend all the more men and women to take. They needed to hold here and hold fast.

He looked at his team. They looked about as disheartened as he felt. He even swore he saw Pyrrha's eyes shimmer. He knew she wouldn't cry. But she'd been rattled; Ren and Nora too.

He laid a hand on her arm, and their eyes locked. He let an unspoken question ring.

You okay?

The shimmer hardened.

We need to get down there.

Jaune nodded and shuffled his way through the cramped interior to the cockpit. He heard the pilot rapidly conversing with the others.

"–crawling all over this sector. Are there any support units we can pull from? Over."

"Negative, Pitcher Flight. CASEVAC is unavailable at this time. Over."

"1-3, you've got another group coming in at your nine."

"Copy. Moving to engage."

"Thatch! I can't see them! Give me forty-five degrees right."

"Forty-five right. Go get 'em."

"1-1. You still there? Come on, Triss. Talk to me!"

He tapped the pilot on the shoulder, who glanced at Jaune, but then reverted his eyes back to the front to line up a pack of Beowolves charging around a corner.

"Yeah?"

"We need to get down there now," Jaune said, echoing Pyrrha's unspoken sentiment.

"No can do. The Nevermore's still smoking on the LZ. You'll choke to death before you get inside," he retorted with constrained patience. Jaune could tell the radio was filling his head with enough voices to listen to, never mind being worried about his fellow pilot. But this was urgent.

"Then put us down near here."

"The roads have too many hostiles for the birds. We're setting up a secondary point to drop you off, but it'll take time."

"We'll jump."

That got his proper attention. Jaune saw the pilot do a double take and open his mouth to reject his declaration, which confused him. Huntsmen, even ones in training, were some of the toughest people on Remnant. With their enhanced auras, they could absorb enough damage that would otherwise fold a car in half. Then he remembered that the pilot wasn't a Huntsman. He was part of the Army, working with soldiers who, while undeniably courageous and deadly in their own right, were in the end just ordinary people whose own auras hadn't been refined and catered to on the level of someone like Pyrrha or Ren. Of course, Jaune was a special (i.e. fraudulent) case of being severely underdeveloped in his own training, but he didn't need to know that. In the stress of the moment, maybe the pilot was subconsciously thinking he was still transporting regular troops. Jaune would need to remind him otherwise.

"Our auras can take the fall, and that centre, and crash site aren't gonna last forever."

To emphasise his statement, Jaune pointed at the streets, where a group of Boarbatusks were spinning down the asphalt and crashing into one of Avanti's barricades. He leaned forward slightly.

"I need to get to them."

He didn't have to elaborate who 'them' were.

Glancing between the young Huntsman and the ground, the pilot appeared torn. One final report from the radio seemed to sway his opinion.

"Pitcher Flight. Be advised, you have more hostile air units inbound on your position. Escorts are delaying but can't catch all of them. Over."

He grunted. Whether in annoyance or decisiveness, Jaune couldn't tell.

"Fuck it," he muttered. "Watch Master. This is Pitcher 1-2. Team JNPR is requesting permission to jump near the LZ to conduct search and rescue for Pitcher 1-1, then move to Avanti. Over."

Jaune held his breath. Communications from the other pilots ceased, as they tuned into his appeal.

"Pitcher 1-2. Watch Master copies. Does JNPR understand they'll be going in understrength into a hostile zone? Over."

Jaune wanted to roll his eyes, whoever was on the other side of the radio was clearly skeptical. The time for second-guessing had passed. He was training to fight Grimm, and he was damn well going to do just that. He nodded in confirmation to the pilot.

"Affirmative, Watch Master. They can see the ground as well as we can. They know what they're getting into."

Another moment of tension, as they awaited a response.

"Alright, Pitcher Flight. Abort search for Secondary LZ and proceed with emergency insertion of JNPR. Set up an overhead pattern and provide overwatch. Thunder Flight will move in and cover you as long as they can. Until you can verify CFVY's status, JNPR will have command of the Strike Team. It's your call on whether to insert CYAN and BEIJ. Watch Master out."

Jaune was already heading back to the passenger compartment, as he heard the pilot reply, "Wilco, Watch Master. 1-2 out."

"We're going in!" he shouted to JNPR, "Weapons ready!"

The compartment was briefly filled with the ring of metal, as they unsheathed blades and cocked their firearms. Jaune tapped at his scroll to contact the other two teams.

JNPR was ready to jump into the mess underneath, but that didn't mean the others were. They might still be reeling from the loss of CFVY. He had to give them a choice, no matter how desperately he needed the extra numbers.

"CYAN? BEIJ? This is JNPR. The people at Avanti and our guys from the downed Oxhide still need our help, so we're gonna have to fight through the streets to get to them. You might be scared. I get that. If you don't think you can handle yourselves down there, then tell your pilots, so you can get permission to withdraw. I won't judge you for that, and neither will anyone else here. But if you're ready to get in there and kick some ass, I need to know now."

During his little speech, JNPR's Oxhide had steadily descended, trying to find a height that would minimise drop distance, but also keep it out of reach from the Grimm on the streets. The reply was almost instantaneous.

"This is Team CYAN–"

Jaune bit his lip, doubt seeping into his head. Would the others follow after what they just saw?

"–we're with you JNPR."

Their pledge was followed by, "Team BEIJ here. We'll be right behind you. Let's go get our guys."

A sigh of relief escaped Jaune, and he felt the weight of the coming fight feel just that little bit lighter. He cleared his throat, before addressing the other first-years again.

"Solid copy, BEIJ and CYAN. Glad to have you with us."

He had a plan. It was simple. Move as a group to the crash site, then to Avanti, then hold position until relieved.

He crouched and looked over the Oxhide's edge. The sound of three pairs of feet signalled the rest of JNPR following suit.

Ren gave him a nod of acknowledgement and approval.

Jaune nodded back, then peered down into the chaos.

Crowds of Grimm tore across the streets, smashing through cars, light poles and buildings to reach the town centre. Their snarls and hisses filled the air, getting ever louder, as the Oxhide drew closer.

"This is as far as I can go!" the pilot shouted. "You ready?"

Jaune swallowed. It wasn't anywhere near as high as when he was launched into the Emerald Forest, but his current perspective reminded him he was still in the air, and still very liable to feeling queasy from the height. Glancing around, he noted the other two remaining Oxhides were hovering at similar altitudes above the same road his team was over, their weapons still firing to give them as much of a safe drop zone as they could. Cowardice and nausea could take a back seat for now. The others would jump, and so would he.

His mind briefly wandered to the age-old parental rhetoric of whether he would follow his friends if they leapt off a cliff. He wasn't sure if he should find the similarity to his current situation vindicating, ironic, or both.

"Ready!" he yelled back, and keyed in the other teams one last time before they exited the VTOL. "Jump on my mark!"

He took a few steady breaths, bracing himself for the inevitable acrobatics his stomach would make in the following moments.

"3!"

He saw Pyrrha crouch next to him, as Ren and Nora went to the other side of the Oxhide.

"2!"

She bumped his shield with her own, and gave him a tight smile, ready to dive into the fray.

"1!"

He felt the muscles coil in his legs as they synced with his voice.

"Mark!"

And then, he was in free fall.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Codex Entry: The Remilitarisation of Vale

The close of the Great War in 0 AGW saw the Kingdoms of Mantle, Mistral, Vacuo, and Vale simultaneously dissolve much of their standing militaries. Defence of the people against the Grimm was almost completely handed off to the Huntsmen of Remnant, with only small, decentralised militias left to keep watch over areas with more isolated populations.

Mantle was the first of The Big Four to transition back into having a professional military when it was succeeded by Atlas in 32 AGW. Amidst great protest and scrutiny from the rest of the world, it repaved the way for standing armies and navies to proliferate Remnant once more. Yet, while the threat of invasion once more reared its ugly head, the tenets of individualism and liberation that had emerged victorious from the Great War endured in the minds of many, and the world remained largely resistant to being caught up in an arms race.

Such an attitude, forged in remembrance of the sacrifices of those who fought to bring an end to emotional and political suppression, changed with the Fall of Mountain Glenn.

Seeking to expand its borders, the Vale Council had authorised the monumental task of building an entirely new large-scale settlement beyond the protection of its walls. Tens of thousands were commissioned to facilitate their expansion, and the Mountain Glenn District was completed in 60 AGW. Receiving much applause and acclaim from the rest of Remnant for their valiant and tenacious efforts to thrive in a hazardous world, Vale received a spike in tourism and migration rates from those who wished to see or live in the new metropolitan area.

And yet, even amidst the celebration warranted by their success, the Grimm came. Initially, they attacked in small numbers that could have easily been eliminated by most town watches. But over time, the creatures swelled in both number and ferocity. By mid 61 AGW, there were visible signs of damage to the foundations of Mountain Glenn's walls, and people were beginning to grow restless. In late 61 AGW, Vale was horrified to learn that a mining operation near the rail line and highway linking the district to the main city had uncovered a horde of Grimm. Efforts to beat back the creatures were unsuccessful, and Mountain Glenn was cut off by land.

A concentrated effort was made to supply the isolated populace by air. But with no Air Force or Navy, many airships found themselves ambushed and beset upon by a surprise influx of beasts the moment they set out beyond the range of the main city's automated defences. Even with Hunters and Huntresses streaming in from all corners of Remnant to assist the besieged defendants, the people of Vale could ultimately only watch as, bit by bit, the district's walls cracked.

In 62 AGW, the walls surrounding Mountain Glenn collapsed. In a sea of black and white, the tide of Grimm swept in with a savage ferocity. What Huntsmen that weren't overwhelmed by the onslaught bore witness to an endless wave of death. For every Grimm one killed, two more would take its place. And for every group of survivors they were able to protect, another would be left at the mercy of the horde.

Within two hours, the district was covered in Grimm, and the whole area proclaimed lost. Demolition charges were detonated at the main city's exit to Mountain Glenn to prevent the creatures from pouring into the main city. The desperate screams of the district's final survivors became etched into the nightmares of many, who could only stare helplessly from a distance as further evacuation efforts were deemed untenable, and their people were left to a violent and brutal end.

Over twenty thousand people died in the Fall of Mountain Glenn, including eighty-seven Huntsmen who had fought to keep the creatures first outside the district, then away from the evacuation craft. It was the most horrific loss of human life since the Great War.

From the ashes of such a colossal failure to protect their people, the Vale Council had learnt an important, and incomprehensibly expensive lesson. Six decades of relative peace and prosperity had let their ideals of freedom and autonomy become twisted into sedentary complacency. In memory of the events leading up to the Great War, they refused to resort to tyranny and oppression. But their defeat to the Grimm had shown their current ways of life could not be sustained as they were.

In 63 AGW, Vale announced to Remnant that it would be establishing its own fully-fledged military. Eager for and determined to set up a bulwark to prevent another Mountain Glenn from ever happening again, the Valeans turned to Atlas for assistance in reforming their own service branches.

The Vale Army was formed in 65 AGW, followed by the Vale Air Force in 67 AGW, and the Vale Aerial and Seaborne Navy and Marines in 70 AGW. Initially, much of their equipment came straight from Atlas, buying time for Vale's own industry to restructure itself. Vale's borderline overdependence on Atlas has produced polarising opinions. Some have praised the former for being able to swallow its pride to ask for help, and the latter for being gracious enough to provide it. Yet, others have grown wary at the partnership between the two Kingdoms, wondering how long it will be before Atlas uses Vale's reliance on its production lines to blackmail it into becoming a puppet state. Many are also concerned of the rift that has appeared within The Big Four, with Vacuo and Mistral becoming increasingly wary of the alliance of steel that has developed between Atlas and Vale.

At the very least aware of their need to become more self-sufficient, Vale has continuously worked to develop, test, and implement more 'home-grown' gear into their forces. In particular, the advent of equipment such as the M2 Carbine in 73 AGW, the Archangel-class Destroyer in 75 AGW, and the A/UV-71 Oxhide VTOL in 79 AGW mark Vale's slow transition away from relying almost purely on Atlas' wares.

In the present day, Vale has yet to catch up with Atlas in terms of the quantity and quality of its military. With that said, they are still considered being leagues ahead of Vacuo and Mistral, whose similar policies of rearmament have been comparatively reluctant and stunted. However, while on paper, Vale has a well-equipped and well-motivated defence force, it remains largely untested, with the majority of its divisions, wings, and fleets having yet to earn their 'scars' in any large-scale or protracted engagements. It has also deviated from Atlas by electing not to incorporate its Huntsmen into SOCOM (Special Operations Command), seeing their individualism and unpredictability as a valuable check and balance against their conventional forces.