7-2: Ambitions

"...and that concludes my report."

The Veteran's face was neutral as he finished his statement, standing at attention as the man stared into his Scroll's holodisplay. On the other end of the feed was a familiar face, one that brought the Rhinestone Security Officer no small amount of displeasure. Still, as hard as it was to keep a straight face, no one ever said his job was easy, and the Veteran had no choice but to take things into stride as the woman on the other end ignored his presence entirely.

"Oh? Is that so? Excellent."

Not that he held it against her personally, since the man knew how much more crap his boss had to deal with on a daily basis. Then again, she was often the source of those troubles as well, so he wasn't exactly one to give her sympathy either. Most of the time, he simply tolerated her, and there was little doubt to the man that she shared similar sentiments.

"Well, if there's nothing else, I'll leave you to your duties, Commander."

"Commander?" With that said, he was no saint, so there were plenty of times where he had difficulty maintaining a professional air. The Veteran suppressed a twitch at his boss's words, taking in a deep breath as he deliberately cleared his throat, before staring back at her with a deliberately passive expression. "Apologies, ma'am, but I thought that assignment was temporary."

"Hmm?" For the first time since the start of the briefing, the woman focused on him, a curious look on her face. It took her a minute to actually register what he had said, and what followed was a dismissive chuckle as she turned away back to her desk. "Oh! Oh, of course. Ha ha, no need to worry about it. Just a little industry joke. You know how our Atlesian friends get, right?"

Unfortunately, that particular admission was enough to break the Officer's mask. His expression had been replaced by a flash of confusion, his brow furrowing slightly before he could reign in his sudden reaction. Of course, his boss held her position of regional manager for a reason, and quickly caught his little mistake.

"Tsk tsk. You're getting sloppy at that." His boss almost teased him for the slip up, her usual expression of disinterest slowly forming into a light smile.

Something was definitely wrong. There were very few instances where his overseer of a boss would be anything other than dismissive or curt, so the Veteran couldn't help but prepare for the worst. He was about to ask what she meant by 'Atlesian friends', but the woman must've noticed his expression, since she immediately held up a finger to silence him.

"I know what you're thinking, and yes, you're right. Ever since SDC's latest market breakthrough and public announcement, we haven't had as many business opportunities with Atlas. At all." She never dropped her smile as she spoke. Which only made it worse, because she usually never smiled in the first place. "But I'm pleased to say that, as of ten minutes ago, that's changed! Now, you understand that information like this is sensitive, correct? The only reason I'm informing you at all is because it was your operation that secured our little prize in the first place."

Jared remained silent. Not because he had no idea what she was talking about, but because he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"Sure, some companies might object and say it was a joint effort, and that all findings should be publicly disseminated or something." The woman tossed a few documents aside, casually rolling her eyes as she leaned back in her seat. "But. But. I've double-checked with our Financial, Legal, and Public Relations department, and all three of them say that we've got enough grounds to claim the technology for ourselves. Or, at the very least, have a significant majority stake in it. Either way, it's secured relationships with not just Atlas, but Vale and Mistral as well!"

As if to prove her point, the Veteran's boss held up another handful of documents, this one decorated with various stamps, obscuring her own view while remaining completely illegible from his position. Not that his attention was focused on those things in the first place; The Officer's mind was elsewhere. Everything he knew about the object told him this was a bad idea. Everything he saw and heard from people who had interacted with the object told him this was a bad idea.

Heck, even his gut was telling him that this was a bad idea, and that particular sense had been honed over course of two decades of life-threatening slip-ups.

"Oh, actually, now that we're on the topic, there was something I needed to ask you. Well, something that R&D asked me to ask you." The woman's smile fell away once more, replaced by her usual serious tone as she stared at him, silently appraising his expression. "Did you happen to find any White Fang survivors during your operation? From what I've read of your report, the grimm had gotten to them first... but I wanted to be sure."

And there goes his gut again. And again, it was a feeling that had been honed and refined by experience.

But that wasn't the only thing tempered by experience.

"Yes." Without skipping a beat, the Veteran turned nodded at the woman's question, completely professional as he returned her appraising gaze. "As detailed in my report, we did run across White Fang survivors. However, Rhinestone Security Personnel had been unable to secure them before they were engaged by the primary threat. It wasn't until our position had been stabilized that we were finally able to confirm their status."

"Which was?"

"No White Fang members survived."

The air was silent as the woman stared at him, the holodisplay flickering as her hazel eyes appraised him. The Veteran, for his part, merely stared back.

"I see... A pity, then. I'll inform the Research Division that they're on their own. Thank you for your-Oh! There was one more thing." Jared didn't react to her theatric display. There was no need to, and he allowed himself a genuine look of confusion as he stared at his boss. "I've heard some scattered reports that there were... huntsmen in the area? I don't recall reading anything like that on your report."

Ah, of course. Fortunately, this was the easiest thing for him to brush off, since it genuinely wasn't his jurisdiction.

"Apologies ma'am, but to my understanding, all personnel arrangements were handled by the Chairman himself." And unlike his previous statement, which was only technically true, this particular assessment was completely true. Even his position of temporary expedition commander had been assigned by the man.

"... Very well, then." Silence hung in the air for a few moments after, the Officer still at attention as his boss shuffled some documents on the display. After a few moments, she set the papers aside, giving him one final look. "Thank you for your report. That will be all."

And with that, the connection was cut. Ordinarily, he'd feel relief after these meetings, since it signaled the end of his worries. That wasn't the case this time, and the man knew it, a tired sigh escaping his lips as he brought a hand up to his temple.

He needed to make one last call.

Nox couldn't help but sigh at his current dilemma, a look of irritation buried beneath his mask as he stared at the distant town.

Sure, the initial discovery of the walled town had done wonders for the Xelor's mood. Not only was the settlement in far better shape when compared to the last one, the place itself was a coastal town, which meant that it could provide him with a wealth of information.

Due to his precarious situation, the information most relevant to him were things relating to local resources and political factions, but he knew from experience that port towns provided far more information than that alone. In the World of Twelve, a wealthy individual or powerful adventurer could persuade merchants and sailors to part with all sorts of information, either through Kamas or blood. And while this alien world might not have people as morally flexible as Rogues or as profit-minded as the Enutrofs, Nox was quite certain that the overall market was there all the same.

Not that Nox needed to participate directly in the market, of course.

He had long since mastered the art of infiltration, and his Noxines allowed the Xelor to have eyes and ears on any city he desired. Whether it was the Sadida's remote island kingdom, or some unassuming village on the edge of Bonta, or even the sacred grounds of the Soft Oak himself, the Xelor's machinations had allowed him to see nearly every secret hidden away by the World of Twelve.

And while he did not yet have the potential to replicate such a feat in this particular world, he was certainly capable of listening in to a single unsuspecting settlement.

At least, he would be, if he could understand what it was he was listening in to. Understandably, Nox's abrupt language lesson with the local warrior had been woefully inadequate, and while he could identify certain key words, there was no reasonable way for him to decipher the language. Thus, until the Xelor had a basic understanding of the local language, it didn't matter how many towns or cities Nox had access to... Which was why his current situation brought him a small amount of irritation.

Only a small amount, though. Language was a skill that, given enough time, anyone could pick up. And Nox had nothing if not time. Time which he would use to his advantage.

It was clear now that he had been a bit hasty with his previous... arrangement. If he had taken more precautions with his previous base of operations, if he had taken the time to scout the area around the settlements or gather some sort of regional information, perhaps he could've been more prepared for the incident. As important as research was, Nox should've recognized the possibility that the local human population would attempt to retake territory from the Shadow Beasts. Perhaps if he had consolidated himself more, he would've been able to resist the local's attack.

And would've been able to withstand the Gods' intervention.

The Xelor's lens flared at that thought, a sudden spark of fire red piecing the blue veil beneath his mask. Could he have? The more he thought about it, the more evident it was that the gods had been deliberately lying in wait for that exact moment. That was what had happened with the Cube, wasn't it? They freely allowed him to lash out at the World of Twelve, knowing full well his plan couldn't have worked. Allowed him centuries of free reign to collect Wakfu from everything, all so they could see the moment when he failed.

Their actions had always been to torment him, to watch him crumble at the world's expense. And it seemed that exiling him to a completely new world did nothing to change that singular fact.

Which was why Nox would be ready this time. The first step of his plan was already underway, and a trifle like an alien language barrier would do nothing to stop it. As his Noxines continued searching the cliff-side, the Xelor set his focus to the town itself, carefully appraising the distant hub as his mask flickered from lens to lens.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, given what he knew of the locals, the town was quite haphazard at first glance; Encircled by a massive palisade wall, the town almost seemed inferior to the walled settlement that he had left behind. While the wooden walls' coverage was impressive, spanning from coast to cliff, the fact remained that they were little more than logs tied together with some form of twine.

Contrasting the primitive image, however, were the sentry towers that had been dotted along the wall's perimeters, fortifications that were manned by faceless humans with identical firearms. This curious aesthetic persisted for the rest of the town, with the only entrance to the settlement being a massive wooden gate. And yet, the gate itself was flanked by two weapon emplacements, their construction and form as advanced as the machinations that had attacked his base earlier.

Was this another outpost? The defenses certainly seemed to suggest so, but the rest of the town carried a different tone with it. He would have to confirm it, and that meant sending a-

Without warning, a bestial cry echoed from the nearby forest, snapping the Xelor out of his thoughts. Had he not known better, Nox might've mistook the chilling howl for the cry of wolves, but he had spent more than enough time to recognize the signature howl of the shadow beasts. And, judging from the town's immediate response, so had they. Nox's view shifted away from the settlement's defenses to the source of the noise, taking just a single glance to appraise the marauding creatures.

Dozens of the shadow beasts began pouring out of the forests, and from Nox's position, the congregation looked less like a herd of animals and more like an organic fog of ivory shadows, slowly bleeding out of the trees. In contrast, the garrison of the settlement had taken on a more structured role, armoured warriors lined along the walls, firearms poised over the ramparts in an immaculate lattice of metal. Even the weapon emplacements matched the rigid formation, fixed in the same direction as the soldiers above as a hum of a blue light washed over the machines. The settlement was prepared for the attack.

And it was an attack that Nox ignored.

As insightful as the event might've been—it was a chance to see how the locals used Powder Fuel, after all—the Xelor simply did not consider it a priority. Nox had long realized that the hostilities between humans and shadow beasts were a constant in this world, and as long as he maintained his presence in this region, he would get plenty of opportunities to observe future conflicts.

Instead, he chose to use the sudden attack as an opportunity, as it provided a distraction for the local garrison. Rather than the armed forced, Nox need to see how the inhabitants of the town itself reacted; Were they soldiers or civilians? Was this a town or simply a military base? With those questions in mind, the Xelor shifted his focus, directing his will into one of his Noxines as he carefully flew it over the coastal cliffs.

It didn't take long for the mechanical scout to infiltrate the settlement, its movements unhindered as it slipped past the walls. And as the artificial insect entered the port town proper, Nox couldn't help but be surprised by what he saw.

It was neither. Which meant that they were neither. Perhaps the civilians were used to these attacks, but there was no air of panic among the populace. Adults continued with their daily routine, ignoring the sound of distant gunfire, while the many youths of the city had seemed divided on running towards or away from the conflict. Every so often, he'd see one of the crimson-armoured warriors directing the people, completely poised as they addressed the populace with a calm tone. And the people themselves mirrored this attitude, casually moving about with their day.

A curiosity indeed, but one that he'll have to solve at a later date. For now, his focus had been on the fact that the city contained youths. Youths meant educators. And considering that this world had some degree of technological advancement, it wouldn't be too farfetched to assume that language would be one of the many topics covered by said educators. As his contraption slowly scanned the port town, as he took in the size and reach of this singular settlement, one thought came to Nox's mind.

He needed more Noxines.

Once more, the Headmaster of Beacon settled down at his desk, completely silent as he refilled his mug for the fifth time today.

Though, perhaps it would be remiss to say he 'settled down'. Things were far from settled, and the recent reports only fueled his anxiety. Even now, the Headmaster mulled over the report he had received from the old Veteran. It was curt, simple, and almost noncommittal in its writing.

And at the same time, it was a single grave indicator that things would be getting far worse before it got better. The last thing he had expected was for there to be a tangible artifact at the old White Fang Fort. All circumstances had pointed to the expedition being nothing more than a foolish, if costly, expenditure. Yet, with the discovery of the item, he knew that many companies felt vindicated in their decision. And even in the best case scenario, where custody of the artifact was limited to a single benign corporate entity, that feeling of confidence would mean dark tidings for the Kingdoms.

To say nothing of the worst case scenario. There were far too many unknown variables surrounding that artifact, and the only thing they knew for certain was that it was powerful. Even Ozpin couldn't possibly imagine all the different outcomes that came with meddling with such a device, which only compounded the danger they would face if particularly ambitious and malicious minds got their hands on it.

With things so precarious for the Kingdoms... With the drastic shift in White Fang's attitude, the troubling coincidences that have surrounded the maidens, and sudden appearance of the mysterious mummy, the last thing they needed were foolhardy corporations conducting short-sighted operations, all to test their limits.

And as his mind fell to the mummy, the Headmaster couldn't help but frown once again, staring blankly at his mug as he mulled over his thoughts. If only the individual had cooperated, Ozpin was certain that half of their grievances could've been cleared up. Perhaps they could've come to some agreement, some mutual understanding that could've ultimately benefited the both of them. Unfortunately, that was not the case, and there was no point in continuing that line of thought any longer.

He didn't blame Qrow for that particular outcome, of course, since it was quite clear that circumstances had spiraled out of control. While his report about the mummy was disheartening, Ozpin could hardly fault his friend for the loss of the individual. Not only had the stranger employed deceit, but there was little doubt that the mutated grimm had caused the situation to escalate drastically. Had the huntsman not intervened, they would've likely lost their best lead to the mummy. All things considered, that fiery Ursa was a far more immediate threat.

What worried Ozpin the most was that it was a threat the mummy had created.

What exactly were its motives? It was clearly intelligent, as evidenced by everything he had seen and heard, but that only served to make the unknown element that much more dangerous. It had no qualms with experimenting with dust, nor did it seem to harbour any hostility towards grimm. And from what he could tell, that particular armistice was mutual, which only made matters worse. There was no doubt: they had to figure out what the man's motives were.

The Headmaster allowed himself a rare moment of emotion, releasing a heavy sigh as he activated his desk console once more. Putting on a pair of headphones, the man accessed the audio file that Qrow had attached to the report, the only clue they had about the individual's origins.

Taking in a single deep breath, the man of Beacon closed his eyes, activating the file for the fifth time today.

And for the fifth time today, he was at a loss. The speaker's tone was obvious, of course. The feeling of loss and regret was hard to mistake, even with a language barrier. Rants and ravings that were all too familiar for the man. And through it all, Ozpin could almost feel the tension rising up in the air around him, a distant sensation that...

Yet, despite the commonalities in tone, Ozpin simply couldn't identify the language itself. Despite the tone carried by the voice, the words themselves were unlike anything he had heard before, and genuinely shared no links with any languages that he knew.

Which was worrying, since Ozpin knew a great deal more than most.

His brow was furrowed as he stared at his console, setting the file aside as he shifted focus. After all, he didn't have time to dwell on the subject. Just because this juncture yielded no results didn't mean he could afford to stay idle. In fact, recent developments only underlined how frantic things would be in the coming months. He still didn't know how to deal with James's misguided project; things were far too early, and systems simply weren't in place for what his friend had hoped to achieve. And while Ozpin wasn't sure how the project would proceed with Rhinestone's own plots in motion, he knew with absolute certainty that the two will intersect eventually.

To say nothing of the fact that such projects would be held under scrutiny, both by the political heads of the various Kingdoms, and by external elements such as the White Fang. Ozpin had no doubts that both groups would eventually notice these events, and escalate their own agenda in an effort to disable, or worse commandeer, these projects. And what happens afterwards? When the mummy makes his presence known once more, in order to reclaim his artifact? The Headmaster had no doubt that he would, especially if the artifact was half as powerful as they were led to believe.

Ozpin's eyes settled on his display, staring at James' contact information as he held his finger above the icon, pausing for just a few short seconds. He needed to do something... but what?

Those seconds were enough for him to come to a decision.

Clearly, there were two things he needed to do. First and foremost, Ozpin needed more information on the mummy; this entire situation was the result of the Kingdoms reacting to the individual. In order to properly plan ahead, the Headmaster required some insight on the mysterious stranger. Secondly, and just as important, the headmaster needed to establish an entirely new foundation for his operations. While he'd still maintain his current network, it was clear that he needed a more flexible network of information, so that he'd be able to react to the changing landscape.

Which meant he had two calls to make. And while the second call would be difficult, as was always the case when dealing with the underground, the first call he needed to make was another trial entirely.

The Headmaster of Beacon took a single sip of his mug, closing his eyes in preparation for the call as he pressed the icon on his console. There was a brief ring, then two more as the call reached out to his... protege. Yes. That was one way to describe it.

"Professor Ozpin?"

A light, female voice answered his call. The old man settled his thoughts, slipping into his familiar tone of professional nonchalance, even as he heard the sound of raging winds from the other end. It took some effort, admittedly, but he was fully capable of maintaining an illusion of control; Such a talent was required for a Headmaster, after all. In a single deliberate motion, the Headmaster of Beacon carefully lowered his mug onto his desk, turning his attention to face the young woman completely.

"Is there something you needed?"

As he stared at her hazelnut eyes, the man replied with a gentle tone, almost amused as the corner of his lips curled upwards. "Indeed there is, Amber. But, before I begin, could I ask you to... conclude your current tasks, first?"

"Oh. Of course." Her eyes widened slightly, her mouth parting for a split second as she realized something was wrong. Still, her tone remained balanced, and it only took a single gesture for the woman to correct her mistake. Within seconds, the turbulent winds ceased entirely, no longer drowning out their conversation as she turned back to the Headmaster. "I'm sorry about that. Please continue."

"Thank you. Now-"

A loud quake interrupted the headmaster's words. And unfortunately, that was something he had anticipated. After all, what other result could you expect from a Goliath impacting the ground? Still, he threw a single inquisitive glance at Amber, one brow raised as he stared at the maiden.

Amber gave a nervous cough, clearing her throat as she shot a quick glance at the fallen Goliath, watching the poor beast's dissolving body for a split second before turning back to Ozpin.

"Erm... Apologies for that as well."