"No dumb bastard ever won a war by going out and dying for his country. He won it by making some other dumb bastard die for his country"

General George Patton

Chapter Five-The Calm

One week after joining the military, Jaune Arc was fast regretting his hasty decision to do so. The mornings were brutally early. The training gruesome and exhausting. The meals anything from stale and brick hard to soggy and gloopy. Basically, it sucked.

At least Jaune was finally beginning to connect with the other members of his squad. Buzz had been all too pleased to have a friend close to his age, and had attempted to sit next to Jaune at every meal. Jaune had soon realised this wasn't quite such an innocent action, because the first morning this happened Jaune had sat on a whoopee cushion. Turns out Buzz liked to laugh, sometimes at the expense of others. Having Buzz also drew in Naomi, who would now chat to him at meals as if he were one of her closest friends. Bounty's raucous nature never failed to make Jaune chuckle. Cat had finally stopped laughing at Jaune's inability to march, and had begun to exaggerate her moves to make them easier to imitate. Phil was a constant pillar of support for Jaune whenever he needed it. He seemed just as desperate to make friends as Jaune had been. Even Aiden, the near silent wolf Faunus had shared a few kind words with Jaune. Jaune wasn't quite sure what it was, but something instantly drew him to Aiden. Maybe it was how he was always so calm and collected, or maybe because of his similarities with Ren—

Damn it.

Anyway, he still had headway to make with the others. Ash was as detached as ever, so nothing new there. Terry, who Bounty had taken to calling Terrier ("he's like a lost puppy, following Sarge everywhere," Bounty had explained), honestly seemed too occupied dogging Sergeant Cole's every move to even notice Jaune, and Finn (Finnegan was far too much of a mouthful, Jaune had decided) didn't really seem to want to make any friends.

Oh well. It was a start.

On one particular morning, Sarge took the group to the second field in the compound, this one boasting nothing more than a skull and cross bones sign. With a gleeful expression, Sarge merrily told them that this was a minefield, and that they would be trying to get across it.

"Are you mad?" cried Finn, "we'll be blown up for sure! This is suicide! I can't, I can't do it. I… I won't—"

"Shut it, numbnuts!" shouted Sarge. "We're not going to kill any of you. The mines are remote controlled, in fact, by our very own Lightning." Nine heads whipped around to stare dumbfounded at Phillip.

"We're all gonna die," whimpered Finn. Jaune was forced to admit, rather shamefully, that he didn't like his chances with Phil's jittery finger on the mine trigger.

"Question, sir," Cat raised her hand. "Why does schizophrenic Sal over there get to hold the big red button that decides who lives and dies?"

"Because, Tiger, Phil here is a combat engineer, and the only one with any training in handling explosives." That was news to Jaune. He'd always just assumed Phil was new to the military as well, but if he had training in explosives, that must mean he'd been there longer than he'd imagined.

"So," continued Sarge merrily, "if you'd rather I was in command of the big red button that decides who lives and dies, then—"

"Phillip is fine sir," Cat quickly amended.

"Good. If there are no other questions then— What is it Arc?"

"Um," Jaune went slightly red faced from being the centre of attention. "If you don't mind me asking, sir, what is a combat engineer?" Before Sarge or even Phil could answer, Naomi interjected.

"Combat engineers: soldiers who performs a variety of construction and demolition tasks under combat conditions. Their goal is to facilitate the ease of movement of friendly troops whilst impeding those of the enemy," explained Naomi, monotonously.

A pause.

"Thank you, Naomi, for that wonderful little insight. Now if all you turkey livers are done stalling, there's a minefield in the way of your objective. Clear it!"

Two hours, four lost legs and two 'deaths' later, Jaune was dismissed to return to the dorm with the rest of Beta section. Jaune collapsed onto his bed, utterly spent. He would have been quite content to lie like that for hours, but his bliss was denied when Sarge kicked open the door and bellowed, "ROOM ROOM 'TION." Jaune whimpered into his pillow. "Come on, you lazy snot noses, Santa's come to town!"

When Jaune finally found the energy to rise to his feet, he saw that Sarge was hauling a large black bag with him. He yanked it open and out spilled a sea of forest greens, mud browns and tar blacks. Combat uniforms.

"Look who the authorities finally decided to grace with presents," remarked Cat drily.

"That's the bloody government for you," Ash spat. "Military's always last in the pecking order."

"At least we have them now," piped Buzz.

"Fat load of help that's gonna be in a firefight," muttered Finn.

"All of you, shut your pie holes and grab something that fits!" yelled Sarge.

A mad rush ensued as everyone tried to grab the best fitting kit first. Jaune got caught up in the tide of human flesh, and soon found himself crushed under a mountain of Bounty.

"Hurry it up kids," said Sarge merrily, "cause tomorrow we're going on a little field trip."

The frantic struggling froze immediately.

"When you say field trip," began Terry delicately, "what exactly do you mean?"

"Well, Terrier, I'm so glad you asked," grinned Sarge, having far too much fun for Jaune's liking. "The powers from above have deemed it necessary to test out a few of their new sections. That means that at oh five hundred hours, you lot are being shipped out to a forward base in the field. From there, you'll spend the next week completing an objective to be specified once there." The whole room went up in groans. "So pack your bags boys and girls, because what you'll be bringing will be your loyal companions for the next week!"

The crowd that had built up around the uniforms gradually dispersed as the group went to work preparing for the upcoming week in the field. Jaune, who had only a handful of scant possessions was soon finished. As an afterthought, he picked up Crocea Mors and dropped it into his bag. He doubted it'd be much use in a firefight, but he couldn't stand the thought of leaving it behind.

Now finished, Jaune absently looked around the room. Buzz was trying to stuff a bundle of clothes into his pack, without much success. Terry was reading something, a book called... wait, was that the weapon's specification handbook? Not even Jaune had bothered reading that, let alone any of the others (well, except for maybe Naomi). Terry must have really wanted to impress Sarge. Either that, or he just really liked reading 100-page long books that were able to bore a rock to death. Finn was speaking to someone on his scroll in hushed tones with his back to the room. He'd been talking on his scroll almost every single evening since Jaune had got there. Jaune wondered who he was calling.

And finally, he spied Phillip, who was once more fiddling with the strange, flat, yellow device. Jaune watched as Phillip spun the cross that enclosed the stubby cylinder, then adjusted the hand crank so it stood vertically and spun it again.

Well, it wasn't like he had anything better to do right now.

"Hey Phil," greeted Jaune, approaching him. "What's that?"

"What? Oh, hey Jaune. What's what? This? Oh, this is, um, it's kind of my, my weapon," Phil admitted rather sheepishly. Jaune blinked.

"Your weapon? But I thought… is that even allowed in the army?"

"Strictly speaking, I mean, protocol doesn't technically allow it. But the Valesian army is pretty lax about protocol. Which is good, or else I would have left it. The Valesian army, that is. Not my weapon. I wouldn't leave my weapon." Jaune remembered his first day when Sarge had let him keep Crocea Mors, or how they'd only just received military uniform, or the ridiculous blue and purple hairstyles maintained by Naomi and Buzz. Phil wasn't kidding when he said the army was pretty lax.

"So, um, what is it?" asked Jaune. At Jaune's simply question, Phil's eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas day.

"Oh no," groaned Cat, "take cover! Lightning's started again." The inhabitants of the room immediately threw pillows over their heads or fled the dorm at Cat's behest. Alas, Jaune was not one of them.

"Well, for a start, she's called Aeron Wasp. Isn't she the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. Isn't she? State of the art technology. You see this drum here?" Phil pointed to the fat, metal cylinder enclosed by the yellow cross. "Well in that little baby is 400 electric dust rounds. 400! If I rotate this crank on the drum here, then this beauty can spit three of them every second. Every second! Grimm or human, nothing's gonna last long under that. The top of the crank also has a camera on it, helps me to see my enemies, you know?" Jaune wanted to point out that if the camera could see an enemy, then surely so could Phil, but Phil's barrage of rapid speech wouldn't let Jaune get a word in edgewise. "That's not even the best thing about her. See here, this lil' treasure can—" suddenly, Phil stopped, finally allowing himself to snatch a breath. He shot a sly grin at Jaune. "Well, let's just say there's more to her than meets the eye."

Jaune was a little… overwhelmed, to say that least. He was once more reminded of how simplistic his own weapon was. Ruby would have a field day if she was ever introduced to Ph-

Damn it. "Stop thinking about them," he reprimanded himself.

Desperate to distract himself, Jaune decided to risk another protracted answer from Phil. "Where did you get something like that?" he inquired.

"I made it," Phil announced proudly. "Every square inch of this baby hand crafted by yours truly."

"You made that?"

"You betchya. It wasn't easy. The amount of circuitry something like this requires, not to mention the armoured plating, and that's even before you get onto the specialised electric dust rounds needed for this. That alone can cost an arm and a leg. Well, not literally an arm and a leg, that'd be weird. But almost. Like, a lot of money. Though I got lucky with those. My dad owns a business that specialises in electric dust application, you see. Technology of the future, all that kind of stuff. Never really understood it. He never bothered to explain. But it meant I could get my hands on these relatively easily. Well, not that easily, but easier than otherwise."

"Is that why the others call you Lightning?" asked Jaune, glancing to the other members of his squad, still cowering under their sheets.

"Lightning? Nah, they call me that cause of my surname."

"What is your surname?" asked Jaune.

"Mine? Oh, uh, it's Blitz," Phillip informed him. "Phillip Blitz."

Beatrice Blitz sighed as she strode down the long corridors of the Atlas Military High Command Centre. The death of General Ironwood was still hot on her mind. It was almost impossible to imagine that the extraordinary man under whom she'd served was now in a grave. It wasn't fair that such a great man had been stolen from them. It just didn't feel right.

Beatrice sighed again. The new General hadn't made things any easier either. Almost as soon as he'd been appointed, he had ordered the execution of several complicated military exercises. He had also increased the alert level of all units. When she had wanted time to digest what had happened and grieve the loss of the General, she had instead been forced to lead a number of soldiers in practise manoeuvres. She didn't understand why it had been necessary. She intended to bring it up in the meeting with General Watts she was going to now.

The moment Beatrice entered the command room, she knew something wasn't right. There was an almost palpable apprehension in the air. Her senses were jingling in a way they often did whilst out in the field, just before a Grimm attacked.

She scanned the assembled people in the room as she often did when entering an unknown situation, trying to identify the source of her unease. Some of them she knew, others she didn't. But she realised one thing they all had in common instantly. They were all high ranking commanders in the Atlas military. Something big was about to happen.

She spotted General Watts standing behind a large table across which was spread a map of Remnant. Behind him, with hairy arms crossed over his chest, was a bearded giant of a man surveying the scene. His gaze over the assembled Atlas personnel was critical and calculating, as if he were judging his chances in a fight. In fact, Beatrice realised with a start that he was scrutinizing the room in much the same way she was. A bodyguard? But the man seemed to hold himself more aloft than that, and was it her imagination, or when his eyes passed General Watts did he look at him almost with… contempt? The man hid it well, but Beatrice was a master at reading people. Just then though, the man's hazel eyes fell upon hers. Beatrice quickly looked away, as if she were a naughty child, though she'd done nothing wrong. Something about that gaze though, the intensity of it, had forced her to avert her eyes. Beatrice realised the man behind General Watts was not to be messed with.

"I believe that is everyone this meeting requires," began General Watts. "Ladies and gentlemen, as you may well be aware, I am the newly appointed General of the Atlas military after the recent passing of General Ironwood. Some of you, I will have already had the pleasure of making an acquaintance," General Watts nodded to a few older men, "whilst others I will no doubt come to know in time." At this General Watts's eyes roamed around the room, pausing on Beatrice's for a split second before moving on. Beatrice shivered slightly.

"General Watts," spoke a young commander whom Beatrice had never seen before. "If I may ask sir, why have you called this meeting?"

"An excellent question," General Watts drawled. Once more he scanned the assembled faces before him, and once more Beatrice shivered when his eyes met hers. There was something about him that caused the hairs on Beatrice's neck to rise, and she didn't like it. "I see no reason to keep you all in the dark. As you all know, the military has been on a heightened stage of alertness for the past week. This is not a drill. The Atlas council has decided to occupy the Kingdom of Vale."

"What!?" cried Beatrice, unable to control herself. They couldn't attack another kingdom, and especially not Vale. Surely the other commanders in the room was agree with her. This was madness.

An instant later, she mentally kicked herself as the entire assembly turned to stare at her. What was she thinking? Of course the others wouldn't object. Not to someone as superior as a general. Almost all of them had been born and raised in Atlas their whole lives, some no doubt attending the academy. If there was one thing that kind of life would stamp out faster than a spreading fire, it was insubordination. She would get no support here.

General Watt's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Commander Blitz, is it?" Beatrice nodded. "I understand your apprehension, but it is not your place to question orders. You are to prepare your men immediately for ferrying to Vale at five o'clock tomorrow morn—" Beatrice desperately tried to keep her mouth clamped shut, but she had never been one for submissiveness.

"But sir, we are at a time of peace. What use could the invasion of a friendly Kingdom possibly ha—"

"That is enough, commander!" For a moment, Beatrice honestly thought General Watts was about to leap across the desk and throttle her, but he reigned in his anger. Instead, he walked around the table and approached her, his arms outstretched in peace. "It is understandable that you would have lots of questions." As he came closer Beatrice fought to stay still. Her instincts, honed by her years of training as a huntress screamed at her to react, to move, to do something! "But it ends now." Watts laid an arm on her shoulder.

An odd feeling seeped through Beatrice's body from the epicentre of General Watt's hand. It was a strange numbness, like warm water snaking through her veins. She felt it flow up her arm like shoots of a tree, but for some strange reason, it didn't bother her. It was soothing, like a painkiller, dampening her stress, her discomfort, her suspicion.

"You will ask no more questions about this matter. You will do what you are ordered to, and ensure that your subordinates do the same."

She really should. That was what the army had trained her to do, wasn't it? Follow orders. What those orders were didn't matter, did they? General Watts wouldn't tell her to do anything without having considered every option first, would he? This was for the best. She was sure of it.

"Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, sir."

"Good," said General Watts, stepping back from her. He then turned back to face his entourage. "You will receive specific orders once you return to your posts. Prepare your men to move out at five o'clock sharp. I understand that some of you will think that we have not had long enough to prepare for this monumental task, but I assure you, every variable for has been carefully considered. The Valesian military is poorly trained, poorly equipped and will be easily overcome. The Council does not want to allow time for that to change. We will move quickly and finish this campaign within the month…"

Beatrice tried to pay attention to what General Watts was saying, but in a rare lapse of concentration, she soon zoned out her superior's instructions. Her mind wandered to what she was about to be a part of, what she was about to do. In particular, she thought about the opposition she would face. General Watts seemed confident that the Valesian army wasn't worth much; that there was nothing to worry about. But Beatrice still couldn't help but wonder about a certain tall, dark haired man with dull red armour. Wars always had casualties, of that she knew.

She wondered if her twin brother would be one of them.

Chapter five, done! Things are finally coming together, pieces are being moved, actions are being taken. We're still in the calm for now, but how long will it be before the storm arrives?

I'm super stoked for where this story is going, and I hope you guys are too. If you think this story is going too slowly, don't worry, big things are coming soon. EEEEKK!

Keep reading, keep reviewing, and of course, keep following Sergeant Arc.