Disclaimer: RWBY and Harry Potter belong to their respective creators.
Percy deflected the spear that was coming for him with a turn of the wrist and thanked providence that Bill had taken it on himself to complete his swordmastery at the behest of their grandmother.
Not that Percy was any good at swordwielding. He'd stopped learning when Grandmother Cedrella died, and the money earmarked for his tutors was added to his Hogwarts tuition savings.
He'd remembered the basic footwork and the stances and it was enough to build a foundation on but he was still shit at swordwork. It was proved a moment later when he thudded to the ground on his back, wheezing.
"You've gotten better."
"Not good enough," he breathed, not bothering to get up.
Boyd Valkyrie laughed. "Well, this is how I repay you in hand to hand, I suppose. Come on, Constan, another round. How can you become a Huntsman if you let this little thing stop you, eh?"
Percy sat up with a groan, his Aura already easing his bruises. "You know I'm not planning to be a Huntsman, right?"
"Why are you in a combat school, then?"
"I'm going to be a soldier. My weapon skills aren't high enough for the Academy." He sighed and studied his blond friend. "You're entering the Academy?"
Boyd nodded excitedly. "Mr. Carnagione says I just have to make a good showing at the end of year spar and I'm all set."
"Congratulations, Boyd. Your grades must be really good if it's just the spar you're waiting for."
The irrepressible boy laughed. "All thanks to your study sessions! And you know your grades are the highest in school right?"
"I'm pretty sure Galathe and Zib have me beat."
Boyd shrugged. "Galathe has no life and Zibeon thinks books are relaxing. You actually spar with me, so you have them both beat."
"Oh sure," Percy rolled his eyes fondly as he got into a stance, sword ready. "I'm better just because you fling me around sometimes? I bask in your muscle-headed proximity."
"Of course!" Boyd preened. "People don't like sparring with me for some reason."
"Because you're one of the best fighters in school and you hit very hard." Percy was grateful for Aura or his body would be a mass of bruises every spar and his sword would need to be replaced every week.
"That's not a reason."
"Not everyone's a combat nut, Valkyrie," called Zib from the sidelines.
"Everyone sucks then."
Percy laughed and charged his friend, feinting and dashing under the spear's guard. Boyd smirked as the blow was deflected then blinked as his Aura dipped noticeably.
It was Percy's turn to smirk, retracting his fist swiftly and flipping away with graceful ease. "Touche."
All in all, Percy didn't really expect to enjoy combat school. He'd enlisted in the Atlesian military because they paid well for Aura-adepts and he'd been at loose ends as to what to do after acing his Advanced Academic Registers.
He could have applied to a good university but that would've just cost money they didn't need to spend. Scholarships were given to people who worked for years to apply for the best; they weren't given to brats from outside the kingdoms whose academics were limited to Certifications unless the person demonstrated great skill or talent.
Paperwork-ninja skills and the ability to memorize a great deal of data in a short time were not scholarship-worthy, even if Percy was proud of his hardwon bureaucratic talents.
The army recruiter he talked to accepted his enlistment but he was shuffled into combat school anyways. It was fortunate that the Atlas Council needed to replenish their army and decreed a five-year recruitment drive which included acceptance for citizens of their long-time ally Mistral. For Percy, that meant combat school core classes were free if he passed the entrance exams – a privilege generally given only to Atlas-born students.
The recruiter said that if he entered combat school as an enlisted private, he could stay in the barracks while on half-pay. With the bloodshed of what was now officially termed the Faunus Rights Revolution ending two years before he enlisted, there was no need to fast-track recruits to the front lines – especially if they were only fifteen years old.
So he spent two years in one of the Atlesian combat schools as a Private, with his free time taken up at the barracks doing drills and patrols. The other privates who like himself were pushed into combat school for basic training were generally tapped as general dogsbodies by the officers and higher-ranked soldiers there, ostensibly to learn more about Atlesian military hierarchy.
He'd been recommended into Atlas Academy at graduation on the strength of his academics and his Aura skills but he'd had to decline. Atlas Academy was expensive, though student costs were subsidized to an extent. He'd also learned that Atlas Huntsmen were behooved to work exclusively on Atlas Council sanctioned missions for two years before they were released to take on what contracts they wanted.
The regular military was more flexible in terms of the possibility of leaving and he really wasn't that interested in combat. He'd been planning to become an officer in logistics, or an analyst. He wasn't as adrenaline-addicted as some of his family. Additionally, soldiers didn't take as many risks as Huntsmen even if their combat training didn't come close to Huntsman standard.
He wasn't sure the family could take a loss of a member at this point. They'd all agreed that combat training was essential anyway. Percy was simply taking calculated risks for better data and resources.
So even if his weapons combat wasn't noteworthy, he still knew how to fight. He wasn't going to be the flabby paper-pusher he was in Gaia. While his swordwork needed refinement according to his instructors, he was devastating at hand-to-hand.
For a wizard who had not once in his adulthood thrown a punch in anger, it was surprising. Had he channeled the frustrations of his former life into unarmed Aura combat, so different from wizardly tradition?
In any case, it was a good thing. As an Aura-adept with top grades, he was paid more as incentive to stay with the army. He put in a good enough showing to be given the rank of Corporal upon graduating at seventeen years of age and in charge of five other recent graduates.
Leadership was odd to Percy. He didn't have the natural charisma of Bill and Harry or even the twins but he was clever and not unintelligent. His superiors watched as he listened and he learned, tempered by a maturity beyond his seeming age according to the notes on his brief.
Percy tried to strike a balance between what his men thought a good leader would be, what his superiors thought a good leader would be, and what he saw or experienced of leadership in his two lives. Surprisingly, being a politician's assistant in another life was incredibly helpful – he didn't realize that part of being a good leader was knowing how to benignly manipulate the men under your command. For one who'd always followed, leadership was frightening. It was also, in some bizarre manner, rather freeing.
It was bizarre partly because he knew he was just on the low rung of a hierarchy and he really didn't have all that much freedom as a grunt. Bill smirked at him from a terminal screen during one of their weekly calls when he'd tried to voice the oddness he felt.
He tapped impatiently on the crystal screen as his brother smiled in that smug, knowing way all older brothers had. He debated swiping the disconnect button. One good thing about the technology so advanced in this world, it had a speedy efficiency that appealed to him; shutting down a floo call did not have the same quick finality or satisfaction.
"What?" he frowned at Bill.
"You like being structured," his brother said. "You joined the Ministry because you wanted Mum off your back and some excitement. At the time, things were chaotic. Even if you got the position you wanted, it didn't deliver satisfaction considering the corruption inherent in those offices."
"Oh." Percy blinked. He'd entered the Office of International Cooperation because he didn't want a post that was tied to Britain and being a diplomat was somewhat attractive.
Oh. The life he thought he chose then was...
The last time, his choice was tinged with years of being the only one their mother could rant to, despite him being the generally over-looked child, since all the rest ran away. Even his birthday was less a big deal to his family than the rest of his siblings' birth celebrations, overshadowed as Aug 22 was by Ginny's Aug 11 birthday. The celebration of the youngest and only girl was more looked forward to than a simple third son's. He'd wanted to make his mother look at him proudly even as a part of him wanted to leave and make his own place in the world like Bill and Charlie had.
The last time, his being accepted into the Ministry was adversely colored by his family's political stance. The office of International Magical Cooperation was a dead-end job, considering that magical nations had been somewhat insular. He'd seen it as a stepping-stone to the ICW but looking back, he knew he would never had gotten the recommendations needed.
The last time, his promotion to Minister's aide was made in contempt of him, to hold him hostage against his family, and not because of his work.
The last time, his triumphs were not his at all.
Oh. Bill laughed at his embarrassment at not putting it together like that.
"Shut up, Scyld."
Bill grinned at him. "So you're doing well, I see. I'm glad."
"Thanks," he muttered. The others had not understood his choice to enter the military, Charlie especially. Hadn't there been enough war? Tonks had looked exasperated but had eventually hugged him when he left, with a directive to stay safe. Bill worried but had not stopped him, advising him to be cautious and careful.
"How are things with your section? The last time I called you looked like you were going to tear your hair out because of them."
Percy smiled sheepishly. "I was thinking like Crouch. It wasn't so serious."
"The grouch? I hope you won't make it a habit." Bill huffed another laugh and smiled widely. "I was a bit worried for a while but the military's good for you. You smile more."
"Yes, I...I think I'm happier."
"Good. That one officer still wanting you to enroll in the Academy?"
"He's backed off since I was promoted."
"Congratulations again!"
"It was a month ago already."
"But we're so proud! There hasn't been an army officer in the family since Great-grandfather Prewett. We should've celebrated."
"I'm a non-comissioned officer. Great-grandfather was a general. You're overreacting. Don't be like Mum."
Bill gasped and lifted his hands dramatically to his chest. "Don't be mean, little brother. I tell you, I do not have the lungs to be Mum."
Percy laughed. "You look like you're getting the hair, at least."
"Don't remind me." Ever since Bill decided to grow his hair long again, his hair refused to be the sleekly straight locks he sported formerly but insisted on curling into a slightly unmanageable mane. Fleur thought it looked adorable and intimidating and promptly decided he was her lion. Her black and red lion.
The rest of them thought it was hilarious.
"How are the rest, by the way? You said something about blacksmiths?"
"Fierus. He's been spending time visiting the local smiths."
"Really?" Not quite the profession he thought Harry would gravitate to. "He did say he wanted something to do with his hands. I thought he was joining the twins in their venture."
"That was Stanz who was considering it. Want to talk to them? They just came in."
"Yes please."
Bill grinned at him again and leaned away from the screen to call someone. Percy waited, amused at the uncharacteristic anticipation in him. It was not so long ago that he forgot how painful it was that every communication between him and his family was strained.
"Zan!" Hermione appeared on-screen, eyes excited and lips already starting to babble. He smiled and listened, contentment thrumming through him as Harry pushed his face next to hers and begun refuting the 'outlandish accusations' she was slinging around. Then there was a thump and two yelps as they both disappeared from the screen.
He straightened in alarm until Ron leaned into view with a sly smile. "Hey Zan. How are you?"
"You kicked the chair out from under them, didn't you?"
"They were hogging you."
"You have my schedule, you know. You can call anytime I'm in the barracks."
"But then I wouldn't have opportunities to kick chairs out from under people." Ron protested, the most innocent look on his face. There was a battlecry and two bodies crashed into Ron with Semblances active, leaving only a whirl of rose petals to Percy's eyes.
A hand righted the chair on-screen and a bright-eyed girl sat down on it, a mischievous smile on her face. "Hey Sergeant Zan," she chirped. "How are you doing? That's the second promotion in two years, right? Does that mean you'll get promoted every year? How cold is it there? When's your next leave?"
Percy laughed lightly. "I'm good. No, promotion isn't every year. Weather-proof clothing is a thing here. I'll be home next month for a few days barring sudden missions."
Ginny nodded and they settled into an intense discussion regarding the kingdom with the only military in Remnant and the many Grimm he had encountered at the walls and the places he'd been posted to over the years.
She told him of Harry falling in love with anvils; Hermione getting into the muggle version of potions; Bill thinking of permanently buying the house they were renting in the more agreeably mild weather of Southern Anima; Ron thinking about food as a career rather than joining Fred's crazy inventing business idea which George was researching with Fleur; Charlie and Tonks seeming like they were courting the same woman at the same time and seriously, what was happening, it looked like that double-courtship was actually working.
Percy smiled. His family was finally healing from scars old and new. It had taken him some time to know it conclusively, but it was a fact inherent to his life now: as long as they were together, they were stronger.
AN: Any idea when Atlas started pressing their Huntsmen into the Specialist branch? Qrow made it sound like it happened in his generation of Huntsmen, and STRQ aren't even Hunting Academy age in this chapter. I don't know so in this chapter, Atlas doesn't have Specialists yet.
The Atlas military is interesting, in some ways. It offers army services to the other kingdoms, considering it's the only standing military. So it's like a security company backed by the Atlesian government. Treaties between the kingdoms must be interesting, or did Atlas sneak in a military monopoly despite losing the Great War?
In this fic, the Faunus Revolution ended with concessions to the faunus because Mistral fielded green recruits and Atlas really wasn't ready for a guerilla war. Also because everybody and their faunus-hating grandmothers thought that 'sub-humans' couldn't win against the kingdoms.
Atlas has the fewest population of the four kingdoms, too, so in retrospect, a military would make up for having to rely on fewer native Huntsman recruits. So the recruitment drive that Percy took advantage of was part of an initiative to massively increase military strength so losing a 'revolution' to non-citizens that don't even have a kingdom doesn't happen again.
I say the surprise win of the Faunus Revolution was the reason that the canon Atlas military was so large and well-funded, along with the fact that Jacques Gele was a soldier that fought in the war, or he had relatives that did so, which is the reason he's a bigoted jerk. Being night-blind and fighting things that disappeared when you blinked and seeing your people cut down by shadows is deeply traumatic. Atlas military being the primary opponent at Fort Castle means there's an entire generation of Atlas citizens possibly developing faunus-triggered PTSD. Fear leads to anger.