Slightly shorter chapter this time, but I hope you won't be too disappointed...
"War is sometimes a necessary evil. But no matter how necessary, it is always an evil, never a good. We will not learn how to live together in peace by killing each other's children"
Jimmy Carter
Chapter Four—The Atlas Council
General Ironwood marched through the pristinely kept white walls of the Atlas Council Parliament Building. Flanking him on one side was Special Operative Winter Schnee. Winter was an exemplary soldier — loyal, intelligent, calm in the face of danger and excellent at taking initiative in the field. If there were only one soldier Ironwood wanted by his side in a fight, it was Winter.
Ironwood's other companion was no less admirable in the field, though slightly less orthodox. Commander Beatrice Blitz had joined the Atlas military a few years after graduating from a Huntsmen Academy, and had risen through the ranks at an extraordinary rate. She was known not just for her ability to lead men, but of doing so from the front. The thought of shouting orders through a radio whilst her men were fighting for their lives against the Grimm was unthinkable to her. She would never ask her troops to do anything she would not also do herself. Such affinity with her men had earned her the respect of all who served under her, and even from a few higher up the chain of command.
Ironwood examined her now from the corner of his eye. Her bob haircut was dust-dyed mud brown to keep within Atlas regulation. Her eyes were intelligent and piercing, missing nothing and observing everything. When she walked into a room she would never fail to cast her gaze around, noting the exits, calculating the situation, judging the scene. This habit of hers made her excellent in an unknown situation in the field, though sometimes made people uncomfortable around her back home. Although she was decent with a rifle, she never went into combat without her own, personalised weapon. It was technically prohibited in the Atlas military, but Beatrice had proved herself with it more than enough times for Ironwood to see fit to relax the rules around it. After all, it wouldn't do to handicap one of his best soldiers unnecessarily.
When Ironwood finally reached the door to the council chamber, he rotated to face his followers. Both stood to attention immediately.
"Thank you Schnee, Blitz. That will be all. You are dismissed." Both saluted him, then turned and walked away, the picture of military discipline. He knew they'd begin arguing before they'd even left the building.
Ironwood sighed, and pushed open the door to the vast chamber. Inside was a circular table, around which sat his four fellow council members. Two seats remained vacant for him. He sat in one, and nodded to the other councillors.
"Now that we are all seated," began a portly gentleman in a waistcoat that was struggling not to burst at the seams, and which probably cost more money than most people in Mantle would make in a lifetime, "we may begin to discuss the matters at hand. I would like to remind you all before we commence that what goes on inside this chamber is of the utmost secrecy, and not a word of this is to be breathed outside this room." At this, he stared at each of them meaningfully, as if he could command their obedience with a glare. Alan Geld, head of the Atlas treasury and National bank, was a man Ironwood couldn't stand. He had been practically born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and since then it had been used to spoon feed him everything his entire life.
"Duly noted, thank you Geld," this came from Jacques Schnee, head of the Schnee Dust Company; a ruthless businessman renown for ploughing through any and all obstacles to maximise profits, regardless of who got trampled. "As some of you are aware, we are here to discuss the problem of the operations of the White Fang, particularly in regard to its branch in Vale."
"What of it?" demanded Ironwood. "That is a problem left to the hands of the Valesian authorities."
"That," answered Jacques, raising an eyebrow, "is exactly the matter I wish to discuss. Gentlemen, we are all aware of the innumerable crimes the White Fang have committed. However, it has come to my attention that they are particularly active in and around Vale. Why, the SDC has lost more shipments to Vale these last few months than to the other kingdoms combined."
"I struggle to understand why this is a problem for the Atlas council," replied Ironwood icily. Jacques glared back.
"If I may interject," this came from the fourth member of the council. Pierre Capet was the head of internal social affairs. He had a soft, feminine voice which he never raised above a quiet murmur. Long, delicate fingers clutched a silk handkerchief, which he dabbed his constantly watering eyes with. "If I may interject, the good will between the people of Atlas is somewhat undermined by the activities of the White Fang. Successes in Vale against the SDC can breed a feeling that the White Fang are achieving something significant, thus turning some of our otherwise loyal citizens to their cause. Similarly, such actions may also fester resentment to Faunuses within our kingdom."
Ironwood gritted his teeth. He doubted Capet had ever even set foot in a lower-class street in Mantle, let alone knew what caused resentment to Faunuses, or for them to join the White Fang. The main reason for the latter was the white-haired man sitting opposite him.
"Not only that," added Geld excitedly, "but losing business is bad for the kingdom. Loss of business means loss of profit, and that means less capital."
"Precisely my point," nodded Jacques. "Yet it seems to me that the Valesian authorities are unable to manage this menace, if they even want it managed at all."
"What are you implying Jacques?" asked Ironwood coldly.
Jacques turned to look at him, his gaze equally frozen. "Merely that a weaker Atlas means a stronger Vale on the world stage." You could have cut the tension in the room with a sword at that point. Both men stared each other down. Neither was willing to break their glare first.
Eventually, Capet coughed into his hand. "Regardless of whether Vale is taking advantage of these events or not, it is necessary to take some form of preventive measures to protect our kingdom. If Vale will not take action, then I feel we must."
Ironwood finally dragged his eyes away from Jacques. "What are you suggesting?"
"Only that I, and other members of this council, believe it is in our kingdom's best interests, to occupy Vale until the White Fang menace has been dealt with."
Ironwood was up on his feet in a flash, his chair skittering across the floor behind him. "No. Never. What you're suggesting is an invasion of another kingdom in a time of peace. It is madness!"
"Sit down, James," reprimanded Geld, as if he was disciplining a naughty child. Judging from the lack of outrage in the faces of the other councillors the 'other members of this council' meant everyone there except for Ironwood. They must have decided on this course of action days ago, and knowing that he would never agree to it, they were trying to force his hand with a broad front attack. Typical.
"No. I won't stand for this. Under no circumstances will I be responsible for ushering in an age of war. Not for some personal gain," he said that final part with a meaningful glare at Geld.
Geld's face began to shake. "I have no idea what you're insinuating Ironwood, but I assure you this is purely for the benefit of Atlas. It will not be an invasion, we will merely be moving troops into their territory and conducting a removal of the White Fang presence in the area. We will be helping the populace of—"
"Rubbish," growled Ironwood, slamming a fist on the table. "It will be an invasion no matter what you claim, and people will fight us. My men will die for an unjustified, illegal war. You, meanwhile, will gain some very tidy profit from it. Let me guess; the Atlas army will need a lot of dust to fuel their forces, dust which will no doubt come from the SDC. Not to mention the weapons and equipment we'll need. If I'm not mistaken, you have several personal businesses which specialise in that area, Geld."
By this stage, Geld had gone beetroot red and was practically foaming at the mouth. "Baseless accusations!" he screamed, spittle flying.
Just as he was about to explode into a frantic rage, the last member of the council laid an arm on him and said diplomatically, "Calm, my friend. Arguing will get us nowhere." Immediately, Geld went silent, and some of the crimson colour leached from his face.
The last member of the committee now rose and walked over to Ironwood, laying a reassuring arm on his shoulder. He was the head of the Atlas secret service, if Ironwood remembered correctly. He wore an immaculate suit, and had a pristinely kept moustache. His voice was as smooth as velvet.
"My friend, I understand your apprehension. Your moral sense of duty is admirable. But this is what is best for both our kingdoms. My sources assure me that the people of Vale are unhappy with how their council is handling the situation over the White Fang. If we make our cause known to them they will welcome us with open arms. Very few casualties will be sustained, and if we remove the White Fang from Vale we will be saving many more lives in the long term. Can't you see the benefits from this course of action?"
Ironwood mulled over what had been said to him. Yes, it would be better in the long term, both for the people of Atlas and Vale. People would surely flock to his cause. Plus, if he was at the helm of the operation, he could ensure the campaign remained short and as bloodless as possible. Yes, it could be done. He could do it. He could designate certain areas off target, like Beacon, and areas with a high population. He could be a saviour of Vale. The saviour of Vale. Yes. He could become a hero. Surely even Ozpin wou—
Ozpin! What was he thinking? Ozpin would be horrified to learn that one of his closest friends and most trusted allies had even considered invading his kingdom. Now, when peace was so desperately needed. When at any moment the enemy could make their move, and try to kill the maiden. A war would be the perfect opportunity for that. It might spread panic, and bring the Grimm.
But the glory of—
No, he clamped down on that voice in his head with an iron will. He wouldn't be responsible for a war after so many years of peace. Not after the last one almost wiped out humanity.
He shrugged off the arm that had remained on his shoulder the whole time, and stepped back.
"No. You need a unanimous vote from the council to declare war, and you will never get my seats' vote. Not whilst I live."
"Are you sure about that?" questioned his fellow councillor.
"Yes. I refuse to be a part of this madness. I am sorry Watts."
"I see," Arthur Watts replied stiffly. "That is a great shame. Are you sure you will not reconsider?"
"No. If there is nothing else this council wishes to discuss, then I will return to my quarters. Goodnight gentlemen." And with that, he was gone.
That night, no one heard as a shadow detached itself from a wall and crept into a heavily guarded military compound. Nor did they hear as the door to General Ironwood's room was opened, and then closed with a near silent click.
The next morning the councillors were awoken to an emergency meeting. General James Ironwood had tragically died during the night when his wardrobe had collapsed onto his bed. The sheer weight of the giant, metal box had been enough to crush Ironwood underneath it. It was terrible accident, simply dreadful. General Ironwood would be greatly missed. But the Atlas council must continue regardless. And with two seats on the council newly available, they would need to be filled. By the end of the day a new headmaster of Atlas academy was appointed, weak willed and easily controlled, and Arthur Watts found himself head of the Atlas military, along with his other duties.
When the council disbanded again, Watts smiled, and typed out a quick message to a memorise number. It read simply:
White bishop dealt with. Proceeding to stage two.
And so, the first signs that things aren't as they seem are revealed. Sorry Ironwood, I um-ed and er-ed about keeping you alive for a long time, but in the end decided there was no way you'd stand for a war between Atlas and Vale. So you had to go. You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain. I also realise that in this fic Ironwood may seem more hostile towards Jacques than in the show, but hey, it was more fun to write about it this way, and to be honest, it's my story.
I hope you guys all enjoyed this chapter. For me, this was incredibly fun to write, and I had great fun playing with Pierre Capet and Alan Geld, two characters who I never originally intended to create, but who I decided would make a good addition to the Atlas council.
Now that this is done, we're beginning to close in towards the end of what I call the first section of the story. I can't wait to get there with you guys. Keep reading, keep reviewing (reviews make all the hard effort worthwhile) and I'll see you in two weeks for chapter 5.