Episode 5:
"Soldiers"
"I said move it, you faggots! Come on! What are you, nannies or soldiers!?" the commissar roared out in anger, swinging his rapier forward atop his beige steed. The rain hammered down upon the two lines of men, draped in long, greyish-white coats with hooded, white ponchos over them and the backpacks they carried, their rifles shouldered and put into leathery bags to save them from the downfall of water. The young men breathed heavily, wading through flooding puddles and muddy pathways across a terrible mountain passage during a terrible day.
This was where one Jaune Arc found himself, heir to the House of Arc and son of Lord-Minister Isaac Asmodianus Arc. This was where boys became men, and men became officers of the Imperial Army- the oldest and most prestigious place for a young man to be. Much like his father, Jaune would fight for this honor.
But shit, did it hurt.
I have to keep going, Jaune scolded himself, as his feet wavered. He was not last, nor first. No, he was just on the average, in the middle of the line. But, beside him was his anchor. A man his age, but a lot taller than him, by nearly three feet. The boys in the barracks called him the Warhammer- Cardin Winchester.
Jaune's oldest and most loyal friend.
"Keep going, come on!" Cardin roared, not to just Jaune, but their comrades. They all began to breathe more heavily, as the end neared for their cross-country hike. In coats and ponchos, not unlike them, instructors and commissars awaited them all, as the main commissar, Samuel Felix, rode on ahead, roaring again.
"You're men of the greatest and oldest army in the world! Your predecessors conquered Marathon and beyond, giving it to humanity! Your fathers and uncles marched, saber and rifle aloft, into Auroria! Do not make them disappointed! Run, you maggots, run!"
The Warhammer, much like his namesake, burst forth from the line, and with the commissar not yelling at him to fold back in line, so did the cohesion of both lines fall apart. Jaune went into a full sprint, grasping his rifle in both hands and hacking out a swift cough, his spittle curdling before he roared out hoarsely, charging forward.
But, red hair brushed past him. Of course, she was here. The very first woman to ever be accepted into the Military Academy of Hyperion- Pyrrha Nikos. The daughter of one of the men seated upon a black steed at the end of the path. Cardin, Jaune and Pyrrha were soon those at front, charging past their comrades in a race toward the finish, as the commissars, captains, instructors and General Nikos stared at them.
As they neared, Jaune noticed that her father wasn't staring at her. He was staring at him. Just him. The other commissars chuckled and pointed at some of them and their comrades lagging behind in the impromptu charge, discussing them, no doubt. Or reminiscing about their own frivalties and enjoyments as youth in the Academy many years ago.
Jaune soldiered on, and soon reached the finishing line, with commissar Felix fired off a revolver shot into the air.
"The winner is Major Cardin Winchester!"
The nineteen year old, heavily built Major cheered, but hoarsely, laughing loudly. This wasn't a competition from the start, a cross-country hike, turning into a jog, then a sprint through rain. Their final day as Major-Cadets- the next, as Colonels.
Jaune couldn't lie if he felt a bit disappointed having not won, but he smiled and chuckled alongside Cardin, who patted him on the back. Pyrrha also came over, congratulating Cardin, smiling warmly at Jaune and then snapping her head toward her father.
Her father, however, his hair slicked back, his mug shadowed by a growing beard, was staring coldly.
He simply nodded, and Jaune had never seen Pyrrha so happy.
As Jaune, Cardin and Pyrrha, alongside their comrades, lined up to be inspected by commissar Felix, Jaune could overhear Nikos trotting up to two inspectors, saying something along the lines of 'bring Winchester and Arc' before trotting away, with the two instructors as mute as dead men, except for their affirmative nods and salutes.
Jaune remembered all of this a few hours later, as he stood patiently outside a temporary office in the main barracks.
Clutching his newly-furnished Colonel's hat under his armpit, Jaune was dressed in a white, gold-and-red lace duniform with various insignia and symbols in both deep and light blue depicting him as a Colonel. Jaune understood what kind of man Jon Nikos was like. He was 'the General who Charged', a title given to him not out of contempt over some zealous charge into enemy lines, but due to his sheer will and skill in keeping together a ruthless, last stand charge against enemy forces in Auroria, driving the killing blow in Major General Ironwood's "Death Blow" plan during the Aurorian Conflict.
Something the Torians, though occupying Auroria, wish they had created, not some 'lowly Atlan General'. Though smirking with pride, Jaune remembered more about Nikos.
After his actions in Auroria, the commoner-turned-War Hero and now General was targeted during the horrifying Night of Long Fangs. The name alone drove a deep knife into the back of any Atlan born and raised in Hyperion. Hundreds dead in assassinations- a purge from outside the government. Generals and their families who had done 'attroticities' to Faunus citizens in Auroria were killed by FLA extremists, so were low-standing officers and even simple soldiers who had been given the Sword of Valor medals for bravery in the call of duty.
Jaune clenched his hat. No. He couldn't be mad. It was a counter attack by the enemy. He wasn't blinded by the Kuresheim propaganda- the same propaganda created by its current leader, who was in the office now.
The secretary startled Jaune, as she looked to him from the doorway.
"General Nikos will see you now."
Nodding, Jaune slowly stepped inside before being led into another adjacent room to the secretary. A soldier was dismissed by a smoking Jon Nikos, his dark, green eyes staring Jaune down as the newly-minted Colonel stood in the middle of the small room.
Behind his desk, Jon Nikos looked tamed, if not for his uncannily dark coat with Atlan insignia and an armband made of dark silk, with a white eagle staring forward, an upside down star underneath it and a laurel underneath that.
Shifting in place, Jaune saluted him.
"Sir."
"At ease, son."
Letting his palm down, Jaune nodded. Silence passed, and Jaune stared back intently at Nikos, who was doing some paperwork. After the bout of silence, it was answered by Jon.
"Do you know why you're here, Colonel?"
"No, sir. May I ask why, sir?"
He didn't get an answer at first, but Nikos appraised him, watching him for a moment, before extending a hand toward the empty seat before the desk. "Take a seat." Jaune did as was told of him, and soon the General pulled something out of his desk's drawer.
Jaune was passed a newspaper, and soon took it, reading it after a nod from Nikos.
UNIONISTS RIOT IN DACIA SQUARE, 11 KILLED, 1 INFANTRYMAN INJURED
Jaune narrowed his eyes, and couldn't resist frowning. Jon seemed to notice this, speaking up. "A rot has infested our streets. Hyperion's not always been the best place to live, but it's our capital. Our home. The beating heart of Atlas. If we lose it to Unionists, you can imagine what will happen to good men like us, Jaune. The same as Mistral."
Everyone knew about the Unionist Revolution of Mistral. Almost fifty years ago, anarchy started up again after the Fifth King died, but it soon turned from another period of warring clans to a period of warring peoples. A class war, in the fullest. Many other nations tried to put their own, stable dynasties in power, but soon it turned into a battle between Unionists and Republicans.
The Unionists won. Now a man named Lionheart ruled them after a totalitarian, silent coup of prior, revolutionary leaders. Now their plague had spread south, to the capital of Humanity.
"... I agree, sir. I do."
"Of course. What else, however, plagues our streets?"
Here it comes. Jon Nikos was the leader of the Kuresheim party, a radical para-military group operating in Hyperion that used veterans and disgruntled citizens to call for a government without the Imperator. Very radical, almost as much as the Unionists, but they also called for the power of the people to be entrusted to the military. The backbone of Atlas' waning might in southern Marathon and all of Remnant as a whole. Nationalists- Ultranationalists to be exact. And also heavily anti-Faun. Heavily, heavily Anti-Faun, with some of their upper echelon demanding the expulsion and even killing of Faunus. With, admittedly, a just purpose-
Revenge for the Night of Long Fangs.
Revenge for Jon Nikos' murdered wife, and two children.
And as Jaune looked back up at Jon Nikos, Jaune swallowed his spit. He had to stand by his morals. He was a man of duty, of the Imperator. Of Atlas' stability.
"... The Unionists are the only rot in Atlas' stability, sir. I do not think the Faunus are at fault for anything. In fact, if you think that-"
"I agree."
"-you can change my mi…. What?"
"I agree."
Jaune was caught off guard, fidgeting under the man's stern gaze. Soon understanding that he was gawking, jaune blinked again and laid the newspaper back down onto the desk. "Well, sir, erm… What exactly do you agree upon?"
Nikos didn't answer at first, as always, but leaned back in his chair, before standing up. Standing by his desk, the man slowly took out a packet of cigarettes and a matchbox, opening both and soon lighting a cigarette in between his lips. He offered one to Jaune, but the young noble declined.
Walking toward a window to the outside, where the rain slowly descended into a light dribble across the military barracks, Nikos popped it open and puffed smoke forth into the evening sky. The smoke carried across the wind and Jaune wiggled his nose, not quite liking the stench of tobacco.
"When I created the Kuresheim party," Nikos began "I sought to build a party based around the strength of Atlas. After Auroria, our invasion of the principalities has drenched us into debt and ever-lasting ridicule. Atlas isn't the greatest power anymore, Jaune. All the crap they spout here is just empty air- like monkeys beating their puffed up chests. Nonsense, all of it…" Taking the time to take another drag, Nikos looked back to the young Colonel.
"But, soon enough, I understood what was at fault. The decision makers. The men at the top. The Imperator may have created the Duma, a suitable form of elite democracy to represent the will of the higher classes, but it does not represent the will of the farmer that works the field, or the workers that toils in the foundry, or the common-born soldier that marches for Imperator and Country… Atlas is lost, Jaune. It's in a muddy puddle." Jon said, looking back out the window, his gaze far off.
"And I seek to pick it up."
"Dictatorship."
Jon's head snapped back to Jaune, and Jaune blinked, understanding that, one, he bad mouthed a General and, two, he was glaring. Affixing himself, Jaune sat straight back from his leant forward position and coughed acutely. "Sir."
Nikos smirked, causing some confusion for the Arc, before the General took another drag.
"Yes. What of it? Have you met the Imperator, Jaune?"
"No, sir."
"I have. So have I met your father. No offence- Isaac Arc is a lapdog." Jaune looked away, not in anger, but in shame. It was a known fact that Isaac Arc was a great General, but a career one. A noble Lord at the head of the Duma, alongside Minister Torchwick, a 'Republican' within the Duma trying to bring forth a true, Constitutional Monarchy, like in Gaillas.
"... it is true that my father surrounds himself with Kellibophiles."
"Republicanism wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't so slow, Jaune. I hold nothing against your father, or the Duma. They tried, but nothing has changed. The Unionists try, but their way is hell. What is left, Jaune? To represent the farmer, worker, and most of all, the soldier of Atlas?"
Jaune looked back up at Nikos, finally understanding why he was here.
"Are you trying to recruit me, sir?"
The smirk lingered, before Nikos took another drag, stepping back from the window and back over to his desk, pulling out something else from the drawer. He soon handed it to Jaune and Jaune took what seemed to be a polaroid of…
"I understand you're fond of my daughter."
Awkwardly, Jaune blinked at the beautiful picture of Pyrrha. Slowly nodding, Jaune replied: "Yes, sir."
"She is fond of you, too. She writes to me a lot. Considering she's the son of a lowly commoner turned General, I suppose it would be a… nice match." Jaune blinked rapidly, looking up at a smug Nikos. Jaune didn't want to say it out loud, but it was clear what the General was trying to do- he was trying to bribe Jaune with the girl he loved.
Pyrrha Nikos was an interesting figure. The first woman to ever enter Atlas Military Academy, as well as the first to pass physical training and tests. Some suspected that she got this far due to ehr connections, but both jaune, Cardin and even their whole graduating class knew the truth- she was a tough girl. Many called ehr the Invincible girl due to her sheer willpower and endurance.
Some called her Thunder Thighs but they didn't last long with that kind of mentality around her.
Nonetheless, Jaune and Pyrrha were at odds with each other at first. Jaune had come as a spoiled brat, he'll admit it, with Cardin being the more cool minded of them. As the four years of the Academy passed by, however, Jaune understood the true meaning of being a soldier, and the responsibility.
Alongside his feelings for the Invincible girl. Something she shared with him, as it had been a year since they had… done.. That… behind the barracks. Luckily not the barracks that Jaune was sat with her father in at this very moment.
Jaune seemed to have dozed off in thought, as Nikos continued.
"She's already accepted, Jaune. So have others. I'm building up a corps of young men- young, bright officers who can think for themselves."
"For your private army, sir?"
"Ah… You've heard about that, hm?" the leader of the Kuresheim asked, grinning a bit, but then looking away with a thoughtful expression.
"Suffice it to say, jaune, I don't control them. Their views on the Faunus are… their own. Despite my trepidations with them Jaune, I assure you that I do not see them as the error with this Kingdom. But…"
"A crutch to stand upon, sir. I understand." Jon was caught off, both men's stares meeting each other. Nikos' turned into one of appraising understanding, and he took a drag of his cigarette to celebrate.
"... You know of the White Fang, I hope?"
"Yes, sir. A para-military secessionist group from the Faunus Liberation Army, led by a man calling himself 'The Red Bull'. Supposedly a Unionist group, it seems to be a Railroad for Faunus escaping Hyperion law. What of them, sir?"
"I hope to come to an agreement, when the time is right. But that conversation is for another time… Jaune…" Nikos' stare and voice grew darker, and with a final drag, Nikos sat down behind the desk and stubbed his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. Locking palm with palm atop the table, the General leaned forward.
"I need you. And many more for what is to come. When the dust clears, you'll not only be a hero, but also my son. Do you accept this agreement, Colonel Arc?"
Jaune stared at Nikos, then looked back down on the newspaper. The headline still burned brightly, like a coaxing fire heating Jaune's soul up. With a final gaze toward Jon, Jaune asked one simple thing.
"When do we start, sir?"
"When do we start, then?"
Adam looked up from the sewer layout of Hyperion. Meeting Sun Wukong's eyes, Adam arched an eyebrow. The Mistralan political commissar sighed, his armband a shining yellow- the color of the revolution. Combed blond hair sat neatly under a Mistralan officer hat and his combat gear was mixed with a commissar's trench coat.
Beside Adam was Ilia Amitola, who sighed, speaking for Adam.
"Adam wants to start during the night, so that the next patrol doesn't get there in time."
"We're talking about Fascists, comrade Ilia." the commissar chastised. "You cannot expect the Unionist Front's support in the heart of Kuresheim controlled territory."
"If we don't act now, Captain Wukong," Adam said, speaking up in the crowded war room, gaining the attention of the FLA attache and Mistralan attache, "hundreds of innocent Faunus and even Humans will be lynched like cattle. Will you have that blood on your resume, sir? Will you report that back to Mistral?"
"Do not take me for a coward, Taurus." Wukong said, showing his narling, yellow teeth. Wukong was often called the "Lion Attache", due to being the nephew of the enigmatic Lionheart, general Secretary of Mistral, as well as being mostly human, rather than the full Lion-Faunus that the Mistralan general Secretary was.
Also the man was as proud and ferocious as a Lion. And had the bravery for it, too.
"The Revolution does not back down, but do not expect my men to stand by while being shot at, if we are to be shot at."
"No blood." Adam tried to chastise, as he saw Ilia shake her head in his side vision. Sun Wukong barked out a short laugh.
"Please, you can't be serious…" Wukong asked, unbelievingly, looking at Ilia for an answer. The FLA attache fidgeted, before Adam continued to defend himself. "Commissar Wukong, the White Fang is an organization of peace. We defend ourselves, but we do not take lives. We are not unjust as to become vigilantes."
"Vigilantes? Boy, we are freedom fighters. We are the sons and daughters of the revolution! What we must do is act, act now. We're soldiers, Taurus, not some pacifists!"
Adam was about to retort, his teeth bared, before Ilia raised her arms.
"Enough!"
Everyone in the room looked to the reptilian Faunus, glaring back and forth at both of the hot headed male leaders in the room.
"If we encounter anyone, that remains to be seen. But we can all agree that we are allies. If a patrol comes in range and wishes to attack, then we can easily -count- on the good men and women of the Unionist Front to protect us while we save our kin?" She asked rhetorically, but could see Adam and Wukong deflate as they looked to each other.
Adam was the first to extend his hand, which the commissar grasped and shook roughly.
"Very well, then. Let's begin- tonight."