After the chief of Staff returned to his seat, Winter resumed her place in the podium.
-"In front of Beacon Academy there is a statue. It displays two bare figures, only denoting the weapons on them. This wasn't artistic license, but my research found it was true to the events that transpired that night."
Winter had to bite her cheek to avoid cackling at the innuendo.
-"To avoid attracting grim due to low morale amid the Great War, Mad Jack Arc maintained his bagpipes at hand with his second in command. That proved invaluable, singing and chanting even when they were besieged in three fronts by enemy forces and cutoff of supplies."
There wasn't a single soul in that auditorium that missed the message: everyone there knew that the lifeline of a fighting unit was the supply train.
-"Their scouts informed that by dawn, all the Pure Human forces would attack them.
Knowing his history, Mad Jack, who was a bad luck magnet and always needed every ounce of cunning, urged his small force to ditch all gear and look for Sleeping Root.
The plan was to take advantage of Faunus' superior night vision and filter between the cracks. They would pass at less than a rock-throwing distance between Goodwitch and Winchester's front.
It was daring, it was desperate.
Historians agree on one thing; it would have been an utter humiliation for the combined alliance of Lagune, Goodwitch and Winchester."
The crusty old Master Sargeant voiced what everyone was thinking.
-"They would have killed each other outta spite."
-"Correct. But that scenario will remain unknown because they were attacked that same night.
General Lagune wanted to off Jack with his own hands.
The Mad Jack Arc had dragged his personal ego through the mud.
He raided one of his forts alone, capturing 47 soldiers with his sword.
Jack shot his second in command with a bow in the age of the gun.
He even made his forces retreat when they stormed a town from all sides. Screaming at the top of their lungs-"
The Chief of Staff stood up.
He unbuttoned his coat.
-"In the past, when I still had hair…"
He pried open his cufflinks.
"...I learned that the founder of the Hunters, was none other than the father of a certain institution…"
He rolled his left sleeve and revealed an inked bayonet. She scrunched up her brow. Nay, a Fairbair fighting knife.
-". .. based on his own life experiences, a small unit of highly motivated and properly trained individuals, using irregular tactics…"
Some young lad gasped.
-"He institutionalized crazy!"