Disclaimer: I don't own RWBY.
This chapter is a little longer. Lots of content to get through, as well as a decent amount of worldbuilding.
Enjoy.
"It's hard to believe that's already been four months. And that you're already leaving!" Ruby exclaimed with a frown. "Uncle Qrow just got here!"
"Yeah, it's a little sad," Yang commented. "I kind of wanted you to see you spar my Uncle."
"Maybe one day," Whitaker said. He glanced at the three older men who were currently having a conversation some ways away from them. Whitaker rested his palm atop the handle for his luggage bag. "I wish I could stay a little longer, but Esmond said we need to start my end-of-the-year test."
"Did he tell you what it's going to be?" Ruby asked
"Wouldn't be much of a test if he told Witt, Rubes."
"Oh. Right." Ruby flushed.
"I mean, he said something about a ruin near Atlas Academy," Whitaker said. He placed his hands inside of his jacket pocket. Just the thought of Atlas made his internal temperature drop. "But I did a lot of research and nothing came up besides the ones near the Pale Cliffs. And that area is closed off for the entrance exam preparations."
"They can close off an entire mountain?" Ruby asked.
"No, it's more like if they catch you inside while it's closed off, then you end up in a lot of trouble," Whitaker explained.
"Back on topic," Yang steered. "So your dad lied?"
Whitaker shook his head. "Esmond isn't the type to lie. Omit truth, maybe. But he'd never lie."
"That's fair. Well, good luck on your test, Witt." Yang stepped forward and hugged him tightly.
Whitaker patted her on the shoulder. "Keep practicing. Remember what Esmond and I taught you." Whitaker pulled away and smiled.
"'Use your Semblance as a single, finishing strike. Not a way to overpower your opponent,'" Yang recited.
"Exactly."
Ruby jumped up and attached herself onto Whitaker, hugging him tightly and wrapping her legs around his waist. She buried her head in his neck. "I won't see you for two years! This is going to make up for the lack of time we see each other."
Whitaker chuckled and ruffled Ruby's hair. "Alright, alright."
"Well, well, well, Rubes," a voice that seemed desperate for water muttered. Qrow approached from behind Yang, the other two men in tow. Qrow wore the same shit-eating grin he'd seen on Yang. "Looks like you finally got yourself a boyfriend."
The girl, in a flash of rose petals, detached herself from Whitaker and stood about fifteen feet away from him now. "He's not my boyfriend!"
"Right," Qrow drawled. "Your face is the same color as your cape, by the way."
Ruby yelped and retreated into the house, petals fluttering in the wind as she did so.
Whitaker rolled his eyes. He smiled at Qrow. "Good to see you again, Qrow."
"Not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing that hearing you say my first name like that feels normal."
Whitaker shrugged. "Maybe it's the overwhelming sense of maturity I exude despite being a seventeen year-old boy."
"Okay, you've gotta loosen up that ego of yours, kid."
"Never mentioned an ego. And I said 'maybe.'"
"Right." Qrow rubbed the back of his head. "Thanks for covering my class while I was out, by the way. Esmond told me you did some good work."
"It's—" Whitaker cut himself off. "You're welcome. Spending time in Patch taught me some valuable things as well."
"Really?"
Whitaker nodded.
"Good," Qrow said. "You've got a lot of potential. Don't lose yourself." Qrow turned to his father as he approached. "Good job on telling your kid to slow it down. I would've done it myself the first time I met him, but I figured you would see it sooner or later."
"I wanted to see if he could see it himself first," Esmond said. "But I appreciate the concern." Esmond turned to Whitaker. "Ready to go?"
"Yeah," Whitaker said, patting the handle of his luggage. While he felt more than a little bittersweet about leaving the Xiao-Long-Rose home in Patch, the excitement and eagerness to face his final test overcame that bittersweet sensation. And after his test, he would be in Beacon.
Whitaker Ash grinned.
Time to kick some Grimm ass.
"Do you two need a ride back to the Bullhead landing pad?"
Esmond raised his hand. "We already have a ride," Esmond said.
Seemingly on queue, a pale car emerged from the forest road that led up to the house. Its sleek, modern design stood in stark contrast to the natural environment that surrounded it. If anything, it screamed Schnee.
"Uh…" Whitaker trailed off.
The door to the car opened vertically, and a tall, pale-skinned woman with hair as white as snow and eyes as blue as ice stepped out from the driver's side of the car. She stood at an impressive height, her posture was impeccable, and her hands rested behind her back. She walked towards the group.
"Winter Schnee," Qrow mumbled.
"Ah, you know one another?" Esmond asked.
"I wish I didn't."
"The sentiment is the same on my end, Qrow Branwen," Winter shot back. She glared cold daggers at the man, before turning her gaze to Esmond and Whitaker. "Cousin, Uncle." She bowed her head at Esmond. "It is good to see you two once again. And this time not at a family gathering."
Esmond smiled. "I am glad you are well, Winter." He looked to Whitaker and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Did you say your goodbyes?"
Whitaker looked back to Yang and Ruby, who was making her way out of the house with a small plastic bag in her hands.
Ruby approached Whitaker. She thrust her hands forward. Upon closer inspection, Whitaker saw that it was a baggie full of small cookies. "It's a gift," Ruby said. "Yang and I made it this morning."
"Should… Should I be worried?" Whitaker asked, taking the bag with two fingers and holding it away from him like it was going to explode.
"I helped," Taiyang offered. "They did pretty well."
"Oh, okay." Whitaker stuffed the bag into his jacket pocket. "Thank you, Ruby. Yang."
"Don't mention it," Yang waved off. "Just make sure you eat 'em. Otherwise Ruby will know."
The girl's eyes narrowed into daggers as she furiously nodded.
"Warning received, warning received." Whitaker raised his hands in surrender. Then, he smiled.
"We should leave soon," Winter interjected. She had her Scroll in her hands, the screen illuminating her face. "Our Bulkhead will leave in approximately forty minutes."
Esmond nodded. "Alright, you heard her. Let's get going."
Ruby and Yang hugged Whitaker one last time, while Qrow and Taiyang each shook his hand. As Whitaker and Esmond rolled their belongings toward the car, placing their luggage inside of the trunk, Whitaker waved one last time at the people he'd grown incredibly close with.
They waved back.
Ruby's entire arm excitedly swung back and forth while she seemed to be fighting back tears. Yang casually waved her hand, a small smile on her face. Qrow's wave was much the same as Yang's, though his smile was closer to a smirk. And Taiyang offered Whitaker a salute that transformed into an open hand.
It amazed Whitaker.
Four months. Just four months.
He felt refreshed, like life had been injected into him once again. After spending four months relaxing, the young Huntsman was more ready than ever to face whatever dangers Remnant threw at him.
Destiny called to Whitaker Ash.
And he responded in earnest.
[;]
While Winter drove them to the Bullhead landing zone, Esmond pulled out his Scroll and spoke up.
"Winter, I assume you are informed of what is going on?"
The oldest Schnee child nodded. "General Ironwood keeps his Specialists informed of most international matters. And I am one of his best and most trusted Specialists."
"I wasn't aware that the good General plays favorites," Esmond commented.
"My record speaks for itself."
"Fair enough." Esmond turned to Whitaker. He handed the white-haired teen the Scroll. "That's the debriefing page. In short, you're going on a solo mission."
Whitaker's hands gripped the Scroll. "What?"
"As a test. I've already told you, since you're technically skipping a year of Beacon, this will serve as your end-of-the-year competency test."
"No, I know that," Whitaker said. "But solo? And based on what you asked Winter, this is something highly classified and dangerous!"
"Winter?" Esmond called.
"The mission you are being assigned is a standard Search mission," Winter began, her voice perfectly neutral as if she were reading straight off a report. "You have seventy-two hours to locate the ruins as described in the mission file. You will be given full control over this mission, as well as access to Atlas Academy's armory and databases for any research you wish to do. The mission officially begins in a month's time, by which you are expected to have prepared a mission protocol, as well as a mission objective for yourself."
"A month from now?"
Esmond nodded. "This will likely be the single most difficult thing you have done in your entire life."
"Sounds like it," Whitaker murmured. But he couldn't deny that it got his blood pumping with excitement. "Anything else I should know?"
"For the time being, you will be stationed at Atlas Academy as a transfer student," Winter explained. "You will live in a singles dorm, but you will not be attending any classes or joining a team."
"Good." That would have been too much to handle.
"You are also forbidden from asking or informing those around you about the ruins. This is classified and sensitive information, Whitaker," she emphasized.
"I understand."
"You are also forbidden from asking those who are involved with the mission about the ruins."
"Is it safe to assume you guys already know everything there is about these ruins?"
Winter glanced at Esmond. Esmond nodded once.
"Yes, we do."
So they can grade how well I did in terms of preparation and execution, Whitaker determined. "Okay. What else?"
"That's all for now," Winter reported. "More information will be sent to you through your Scroll as the mission approaches."
"I have a question," Whitaker said. "What happens if I fail?"
Esmond smirked. "Do you think you will?"
"No. But if—"
"Then there's no point in asking, right?"
"I…" Whitaker trailed off. "Call me curious, I guess."
"Should you fail," Winter interrupted. "Then you will likely be admitted into Beacon as a first-year student."
"Oh. That's…"
"Not as bad as you were expecting?" Winter finished.
"Yeah."
"I believe it is fair to say that it would be a waste of your talents to not allow you into a Huntsman Academy. And if Beacon did not accept you, then Atlas Academy would have gladly taken you in. On my personal recommendation."
Whitaker bowed his head, slightly surprised at her comment. "Thank you, Winter."
"You are welcome."
"Winter, don't butter him up just because you want him to spar you."
Winter cut Esmond a glare. "It is quite rude of you to assume that would be the sole reason why I would—"
"I would be happy to spar you."
"Really?" Winter failed to hide the excitement in her voice.
"I… I guess?" Whitaker tried. "I'm not really sure why you're so interested though."
"Well, your Semblance intrigues me. It seems like a good way to practice my accuracy with both my glyphs and my summons."
"Both…?" Whitaker knew of the Schnee Semblance. And he knew that Winter Schnee was a master of her glyphs, and more than that, she was a very skilled Huntress and Specialist of Atlas.
"Why, yes. Did you think I was going to hold back?"
Whitaker sighed. "No, I suppose not."
"Good."
[;]
The flight from Patch to Atlas Academy was a little over twelve hours. Normally, it would have taken around fifteen, but thanks to the personal Bullheads created by the Schnee Dust Company, they had more than a few upgrades compared to the regular Bullheads. Most of which were classified. Unfortunately.
Whitaker could hardly remember the last time he traveled to Atlas (or Mantle for that matter). Maybe it was almost five years ago, maybe even ten. Ever since his mother, Aurelia, married his father, they rarely went back to Atlas. When they did, it was for enjoyment, or because Esmond was personally invited to an event.
From what he could remember, the last time he came to Atlas was the year before he started Pharos. That was when he first met Weiss.
Whitaker chuckled at the memory.
Winter caught his laugh from the opposite side of the Bullhead. She raised a brow.
"Just reminiscing," Whitaker offered. "About when I first met Weiss."
Winter smiled at the mention of her sister. "Yes, you two look… quite similar."
"Is it even more apparent now?"
Winter narrowed her eyes. She scrutinized Whitaker intently. A few moments later, she nodded once. "Besides her scar, feminine features, and unfortunate altitude, you look quite like her. The hair length is the same as well."
"I suppose I should cut my hair then."
Winter shrugged. "Do what you wish. I find that it suits you."
Whitaker attempted to picture himself with short hair. It was… normal. Standard. Nothing too exciting. He set aside the possibility for a haircut, which he hadn't had since he was ten.
"We'll be touching down at Atlas Academy in ten," the pilot announced. He went on to ask the CCT for clearance, and in the meantime, Whitaker began to buckle himself into his chair.
Winter interrupted him. "You won't need to do that. This Bullhead is advanced enough that we're able to move freely while it lands."
"That seems… pointlessly excessive."
"It is," she began, "until you need the stability for air-to-ground fire support or rescue."
"Fair." Whitaker hummed. "We're in Atlas territory now, right?"
Winter nodded.
"And, technically speaking, my mission has already begun, right?"
She nodded once again.
"And this Bullhead would technically be classified as Atlas Academy property, right?"
Winter sighed. "Yes. You can requisition this Bullhead on your mission." She smirked. "Good luck finding a pilot, though."
"I'm sure someone at Atlas would be willing to fly me."
"A student? You are aware that telling—"
Whitaker shook his head. "No, an official member."
Winter only appeared more confused.
"One General Ironwood as my pilot, please."
Winter facepalmed.
Esmond, who had likely been listening to the conversation the entire time, let out a boisterous laugh. When he was done, he was wiping fake tears from the corners of his eyes. "He got you there, Winter."
"I…" Winter trailed off. "I will mention it to him."
"Thanks," Whitaker said with a smirk.
[;]
When the Bullhead eased itself onto the landing pad, the cargo bay doors lowered, and the signature chilling cold of Atlas burst into the Bullhead. Whitaker quickly found that the light jacket that he had been wearing in Patch was entirely useless in Atlas. Just as he began to shiver, Winter tossed him a blue, thick winter parka. She donned her own parka with a nod in Whitaker's direction.
"Thanks," he murmured, sliding the coat on.
Esmond came up from the cockpit wearing a white long coat that came down to his knees. He stared out from the cargo bay, standing between Whitaker and Winter.
"Nice coat," Whitaker commented. His father was already looking rather Schnee-like.
"Were it not for your hair and eyes," Winter began. "People would think you were our father."
"Perhaps it's for the best that I look differently then."
Winter looked at Esmond earnestly. "I would much rather have you as my father."
Esmond was stunned. "I—"
"Unfortunately," Winter interjected, bitterness seeping into her voice. "That will not be happening any time soon."
A low voice called out from the landing pad. "Looking like quite the motley crew." The remark came from none other than Atlas Academy's Headmaster, and the General of the Atlesian Military, James Ironwood. He wore standard Atlas Military attire, with the signature five silver stars lined in a row along his collar that signified his rank as General. A small small graced his normally stern face.
Esmond walked down to Ironwood, Winter right at his heels. Whitaker rolled his luggage down carefully, his gaze flicked between Ironwood and Esmond as the two engaged in quiet conversation.
"Hello," Ironwood said as Whitaker came down to greet him. "It is good to finally meet you as a Huntsman, Whitaker. At least one in training."
Whitaker saw Winter snap to a salute and quickly moved to mimic her.
"At ease. Both of you." Ironwood sighed.
"It's good to see you as well, sir," Whitaker said. The thought to call the general by Ironwood had passed him, but it was nothing like calling his father by his first name. It felt almost… insulting. That, and Winter never did it.
Ironwood looked to Winter. "Specialist."
"Sir." Winter fought a salute. "I suppose you will be accompanying us to the Academy?"
Ironwood shook his head. "Unfortunately, I have a council meeting to attend." The general's eyes flicked to Whitaker. "And a young Huntsman has a test to prepare for." He brought his hands to rest behind his back. "Esmond, I will be meeting with you later as we discussed."
"Right."
"Now," Ironwood said. "I must depart. I look forward to seeing you once again, Whitaker."
Whitaker bowed his head. "You as well, sir."
With that, the general turned on his heel and began walking towards another Bullhead just as it began to land right beside the Schnee-model Bullhead. Whitaker jogged up to Winter, his luggage bag rolling on the asphalt, and nudged her with his elbow.
"I thought you were going to mention it to him?" Whitaker asked.
The woman clicked her tongue. "I will mention it to him another time. I can't be asking things of my superiors when I meet them for the first time in a day."
Whitaker chuckled. Despite their age difference, and Winter's greater-than-average height, Whitaker still stood a good three inches over her.
"Are you sure that you and Weiss are related?" Whitaker asked. "I mean… she might have grown, but she's still—"
"Weiss' height is unfortunate," Winter said with a sigh. "But yes, she and I are blood-related sisters."
Whitaker chuckled.
"Whitaker, Winter," Esmond called. "I'm going to be leaving you two for a bit. I have some errands to run in Mantle."
"Of course," Winter replied. "I will have someone bring your things to your room."
"Thank you, Winter." Esmond turned back to the Bullhead, his hand waving back to both of them.
Winter looked to Whitaker. "Shall we carry on?"
The teen nodded.
"Would you like a tour of the Academy grounds?"
Whitaker shrugged. "A map works too."
Winter sighed. "I will pretend that I did not hear that. For your self-preservation in Atlas, learn to accept any courtesy that is extended to you."
"Ah. Right," Whitaker recalled. He'd forgotten Atlas' strange obsession with courtesy. Despite being criticized as one of the few nations that actively discriminates against faunus.
"I shall take you to your room first, I suppose," Winter said.
And with that, Whitaker followed his older cousin through the grounds of Atlas Academy.
[;]
The days passed slowly in Atlas. Much slower than what Whitaker had grown used to during the four months he spent in Patch, at least. Here in Atlas, there was not much time to sightsee, play Legend of Remnant (though he still occasionally logged on and ran a few instances with Ruby and Yang), or relax.
He visited the library at Atlas Academy nearly every day. Whitaker spent hours, even days on end reading, researching, and taking notes. It's like I'm back in school, he mused. The only difference this time was that his year as a Huntsman's apprentice was on the line. Not so much his future as a Huntsman, but what he learned from that year.
If Whitaker failed, it would mean that he learned nothing.
And Whitaker Ash could not accept that.
He scoured Atlas history. Remnant was covered in ruins, and Solitas was no different. But nearly all of them had been discovered, excavated, and any artifacts or pieces of art were brought to the Museum of History in Atlas. The idea to visit the museum had occurred to him, but Whitaker believed it would have been a pointless affair.
The mission specifically required him to locate the ruins described in the dossier— not that the description helped any, it was so poorly written that Whitaker could hardly believe it even made it into the dossier.
Ruin Description: A large stone entrance. Unsure of actual size. Found in northern Solitas. Appears to be a tomb, crypt, or mausoleum.
The location helped some. However, everything in northern Solitas was either pure ice, buried beneath miles of snow, or stuck in a glacier. Whitaker knew that it wasn't likely that he would find the ruins unless he was there in person. And the only time that would happen is once the mission officially began. Which was a little less than a month from now.
Something that did catch his interest, however, was the lack of conflict in Solitas compared to the other continents. Before the Great War, there were only two recorded instances of major wars or battles— while the other continents, Sanus, Anima, and even Menagerie could fill entire bookshelves with how many wars there were before the Great War.
Whitaker let out a long, heavy sigh as he returned the history book to its place on the shelf. It was a strange thing.
Solitas has about as many document ruins as Sanus or Anima, but nowhere near as many wars. While ruin followed in the wake of war, as did civilization, peace, and advancements in technology and ideology. One civilization falls. Another rises. One civilization rises too far, and it falls. War brought change. And ruins were a sign of change.
So why were there so many ruins and so few wars?
[;]
Whitaker sat within the arms of a black chair upholstered with intricately designed, blue fabric. Directly across from him, sat his younger cousin, Weiss Schnee, wearing a dress as white as snow. Her hands rested neatly in her lap as she glanced between Whitaker, Esmond, and her father. To Weiss' left, further from his father, sat little Whitley Schnee, looking like a miniature version of Jacques.
To be honest, the kid put Whitaker off. He always seemed to be scheming, to be planning something much like his father, but Whitaker wasn't sure if he even fully understood what he was doing, much less emulating. Yet there he sat with impeccable posture, a perfectly neutral countenance, and his eyes as straight as an arrow.
To Weiss' right, seated right next to Jacques was Winter. She wore her Specialist uniform, and in classic Winter style, was extremely disciplined.
Seated at the head of the table was none other than Jacques Schnee, Head of the Schnee Dust Company, and father of the Schnee family. After not seeing the man for almost five years, he looked even older now. It seemed that the recent successes of the SDC did not make his life any easier. His hair was fraying, his hairline was receding, and Whitaker could see how the stress impacted him.
"How has your year of training gone, Whitaker?" Jacques asked, resting his hands atop the white cloth of the table. "It is my understanding that you opted to apprentice as a Huntsman for a year than attend Beacon, correct?"
Whitaker curtly nodded. "It went well. I learned much, and did what I could to help those I was around during my assignments. I am more than a little excited, however, to officially begin my time at Beacon."
"That is good," Jacques said. "Weiss, I believe you ultimately decided to study at Atlas Academy?"
The young girl did not at all look happy about Jacques bringing that up. Guess it wasn't her decision, then. But she still wore a perfect look of courtesy. "Yes," she said through a forced smile. "I'm happy to stay here in Atlas while I train to become a Huntress."
"Perhaps that is for the best," Whitaker commented. "I'm sure that she will come to miss home within a month of being at Beacon."
Weiss looked absolutely abhorred.
Whitaker smirked.
"Nevertheless," Esmond interjected from beside Whitaker. "Thank you, Jacques, for allowing my son and I to join you for dinner. Unfortunately, Whitaker has a test to prepare for and he will need every spare second he can get."
Jacques bowed his head slightly. "Of course, Esmond."
Esmond's chair screeched slightly as he pushed away from the table. He motioned for Whitaker to follow him. But Whitaker had other ideas.
"Actually, I want to catch up with Weiss," Whitaker said, throwing a glance at his younger cousin's direction. Weiss was shocked. "Just leave a Bullhead for me?" He suggested.
"I will have a Bullhead drop you off at Atlas once you and Weiss are finished," Winter suddenly said, joining the conversation.
"Well," Esmond said, placing his hands on his lips. "Who am I to stop you from bonding with your cousin?"
Whitaker waited for Weiss to stand up, and when she did, he immediately stood up as well. Weiss cut him a look and stomped off towards her room. Winter merely shook her head at Whitaker's antics as he followed ten steps behind the temperamental Schnee.
After following Weiss throughout the manor, she stopped at the entrance to a balcony that overlooked the Schnee Manor courtyard. The teen followed Weiss outside to find her staring out at the courtyard, and at the view of Atlas as a whole. Despite the massive city being held aloft by a mixture of chains and gravity Dust, it still seemed to stretch on for miles and miles into the horizon.
Weiss rested her elbows atop the marble banisters of the balcony.
"Miss Schnee," Whitaker said, attempting to do his best impression of an Atlesian gentleman. "I hope this evening fares you well thus far?"
"Whitaker, I know it's you," Weiss said flatly. "Why did you follow me?"
Whitaker stepped up beside her, bringing his hands behind him. "I wanted to catch up with my cousin. That's it."
"Right."
Whitaker smiled. "That really is it, Weiss. How are you? How is Olympia Academy? How is your training coming along?"
"I'm doing well enough," Weiss answered flatly. "Olympia is fine, if a little trivial. And my training is proceeding as expected."
"How others expected or how you expected?" Whitaker asked.
"How others expect," Weiss clarified. "Were it up to me, I would've labeled myself a disappointment long ago. But it seems the world has not yet given up on me."
"You mean you haven't given up on yourself," Whitaker corrected.
"What?"
"If we're related in any way, Weiss, it's that we refuse to give up," Whitaker reasoned. "Winter is the same way. She suffered, bled, and nearly died to get where she is today. And I…" Killed to get here. He left that out, of course.
"You?"
Leave it to Weiss Schnee to press that question.
"I also suffered to get here," Whitaker deflected. "The point I'm trying to make is that us Schnees are strong-willed, determined, driven." Whitaker's thoughts drifted to Jacques and Whitley. "In our own ways," he corrected.
"I know that," she said. "I wasn't suggesting that I was going to give up any time soon."
"Oh. Then why did you phrase it like that?"
Weiss smirked. "I simply wanted to see your reaction. It's good to know that my dear older cousin cares so much about me."
Whitaker narrowed his eyes, attempting to threaten her, but the smile on his lips betrayed him. "Look at you, playing Schnee mind games."
Weiss wore a look of shock and surprise like it was her natural state of being. "How dare you insinuate such things!"
Whitaker stared a moment longer at Weiss. And then the two erupted into a shared laughter. Even though he hadn't seen her in awhile, in some ways, she was still the same Weiss Schnee that he remembered, if a little pricklier and sarcastic. But he could work with that.
"Your father mentioned something about a test," Weiss said. "Care to elaborate?"
"I…" Whitaker hesitated. "I can't. It's classified, unfortunately."
"I figured." She sighed and looked back out to the courtyard. "It's a shame. I would have loved to join you."
Those words brought an idea to Whitaker's mind. "Say," he began. "You're going to Atlas Academy, right?"
"Yes, I am."
"And you've already been accepted as a student, correct?"
"Not officially, but I have submitted my transcripts from Olympia Academy. And I like to think that I have a good chance of passing the entrance exams."
Whitaker grinned. "Well, I think I might have a way for you to join me."
[;]
"You want to bring my younger sister, who is not as trained, does not have the appropriate experience, nor the qualifications, on an extremely dangerous mission that is meant for you to be taken alone?" Winter asked. Her face was perfectly neutral, as it often was, but Whitaker knew that her porcelain appearance was on the verge of cracking. "I hope that the next words that leave your mouth are a punchline, Whitaker."
"Uh…" Whitaker trailed off. "Just kidding?"
The Atlesian Specialist groaned. "Why am I not surprised that you're serious about this?"
"Because it's totally something I would do," he said. He grabbed the handle of his mug and sipped at the coffee that Winter had prepared for him when he stepped into her personal office. Or room. Considering she spent ninety-percent of her time here, Whitaker decided it was better to call it her room. "Besides, it's not against the conditions of the mission, right?"
Winter sighed. "Whitaker, you realize that bringing someone with you defeats the entire purpose of a test, correct?"
"When you put it that way, it makes it hard to argue with you." Whitaker set down the mug. "So we're not going to put it that way."
"Whitaker, be genuine for a moment." Winter drew her hands together and interlocked her fingers. "If Weiss comes, your test would be considered void because—"
"I read that Huntsman Academy teams always take their end-of-the-year tests as a team, and never alone."
"You are a special case," Winter replied calmly. "As I'm sure you already know. I'm sorry, Whitaker, but Weiss will not be accompanying you on your mission."
"Winter," Whitaker groaned.
"Are you complaining?" She asked. "Are you seriously whining? To me? Of all people?" Winter sounded like she was trying to maintain her composure.
Just as she was about to speak again, the door to her office slid open with a mechanical whirr. General Ironwood marched into the room, his eyes flicked between Whitaker and Winter, sparkling with curiosity.
Winter shot up and snapped to attention, her hand flying into a salute. "General Ironwood. I was not expecting you this evening."
Whitaker mimicked his cousin's movements, also saluting the General, though his was far more casual. Over the course of the week, General Ironwood had urged him to not fall into military protocol, as he wasn't a member of it.
Easier said than done, considering the man commanded the attention of entire rooms by simply walking into them.
"At ease, Specialist." Ironwood looked towards Whitaker. "I assume you are here asking Winter about something relating to your test, Whitaker?"
"Yes," Whitaker replied with a nod. "I was asking her if Weiss Schnee could accompany me on my mission. It wouldn't hurt having an extra pair of hands for help, and the experience would greatly benefit her."
Winter looked ready to kill the teen.
Ironwood hummed in thought.
"Sir, you cannot seriously be considering this," Winter urged.
"I am in favor of Weiss joining Whitaker," Ironwood said. "On one condition."
"Now we're talking." Whitaker grinned.
"Oh dear." Winter rubbed her forehead.
Ironwood smirked. "Whitaker. You must defeat Winter in a fight."
[;]
"So, wait," Weiss said. "You beat my sister?!"
Whitaker laughed, resting his head on his palm. "No. She wiped the floor with me." Even through his best efforts, he knew that defeating Winter Schnee was a slim chance. She was the youngest Atlesian Specialist for a reason. "I wish I did though."
Weiss groaned. "And here I thought you'd have a chance. Especially with your Semblance."
Whitaker shook his head. "As it turns out, Schnee summons disable it."
"Really?"
"She summoned four Beowolves and sicced them on me," Whitaker recalled. "When I tried to use my Semblance on them, my Aura took a hit. Then, she used her glyphs to slow me down. And the rest of the fight went downhill after that."
Weiss re-crossed her legs, resting her hands on her lap as she looked out from the large window in her room. Whitaker, sitting across the table from her, tilted his head slightly.
"I'm sorry you aren't able to come," Whitaker said.
"It is fine," Weiss replied. "It is probably for the best that I don't join you. It is a test after all. Winter was right about that."
Whitaker agreed with the sentiment. Not having Weiss accompany him was unfortunate, but his loss against Winter was more unfortunate. It still irked him that his Semblance refused to work on multiple targets. It was like Destiny was playing a cruel trick on him and he was waiting for the damn thing to pop out and say, "Just kidding! Here's your real Semblance."
A Semblance that had no practical use against Grimm. He laughed to himself, drawing the attention of Weiss.
"What are you laughing about?"
Whitaker waved a hand dismissively. "It's nothing. Just… found something ironic, I suppose."
"And that is?"
"It's nothing, Weiss," Whitaker said. He stood up and stretched. "You know, I haven't sparred you since I got here two weeks ago."
A small smirk danced across Weiss' lips. "Too true. I was sorely hoping to wipe the floor with you sometime soon."
Whitaker raised a brow. "Is that a challenge, dear cousin?"
"It might be," Weiss shot back.
"Meet you at the courtyard in fifteen minutes?"
"I shall be there before then."
[;]
Whitaker cautiously stepped into the office of General Ironwood. Despite him being the Headmaster of Atlas Academy, he still had an open-door policy to every student on campus; though Whitaker wasn't sure if anyone actually approached the General freely. He was still surprised that the secretary even let him into the office in the first place. He wasn't exactly a registered student, but the backpack and the uniform was enough for her, Whitaker supposed.
The spacious office was mostly bare, save for the man's desk and chair in the back of the room. Constellations, depictions of Remnant's night sky, and numerous golden stars covered the entire floor of the office, contrasted by the dark blue metallic walls and pillars that arched into a dome that topped off the circular room. Behind his desk were large windows that overlooked the entirety of Atlas Academy and most of the city.
The general stood in front of the windows, his arms behind his back, silently observing the students.
"General," Whitaker called, standing in the center of the room.
Ironwood turned to face Whitaker and smiled. "Whitaker. It is good to see you."
"You as well." Whitaker approached the desk. "I have a question."
"Go ahead."
"Does Atlas Academy, or just Atlas, rather, have another library?"
"Is there a problem with the one here?"
Whitaker shook his head. "Not a problem necessarily. The amount of knowledge within the library here is impressive, but not specific enough for my needs. Do you know the details of my mission, sir?"
"I was the one who helped Winter and Esmond put the file together. So yes, I do."
"My research on ruins in Solitas has not gone as well as I have hoped," Whitaker began. "While the continent carries as many ruins as the others— Sanus and Anima, that is— there is nowhere near as much evidence for conflict or battles that have occured here." When Ironwood had nothing to say, Whitaker continued. "And that concerns me. Every civilization leaves something behind, whether its small trinkets, traditions, cultures, ideologies, technology, or in my case, ruins. But the amount of ruins in Solitas does not match the amount of conflict. Or the lack thereof."
Ironwood raised an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting?"
Whitaker's eyes narrowed. "That someone has erased the history of Solitas."
"That is… not a small accusation, Whitaker."
"It isn't," he said. "I know that. But my year's time as a Huntsman's apprentice hinges on this knowledge, this hidden history." Whitaker set down his backpack and pulled out his notebook. "I've taken the liberty of notating every major conflict in Sanus and Anima before the Great War." He opened the notebook and turned it so it was facing Ironwood.
Ironwood sat down and read through the notes.
"There have been, across both Sanus and Anima, around thirty-five major conflicts," Whitaker explained. "The accounts of the first fifteen are spotty and poorly written, but the dates and the descriptions match up even across civilization. And the last twenty are dated and recorded as well as any modern account of war."
Ironwood nodded. "And for Solitas?"
"That's the problem," Whitaker said. "In Atlas Academy's library, there are only two."
Ironwood's eyes widened. "That's… that's impossible."
Whitaker nodded. "With how many artifacts there are in the Museum of History, a continent only enduring two major wars is simply impossible."
"It concerns me that you are the first person to have brought this up to me."
Whitaker shrugged. "Archaeology and history are often tied together, so I'm not sure what the archaeologists were thinking when they discovered those ruins."
Ironwood steepled his fingers. He stared down at the notes with an almost furious look. "Tell me about the two wars."
"The first one was known as the Igniter's Crusades," Whitaker began. "It occurred about seventy years before the Great War, give or take a few decades. It was mainly a war against the Grimm. A group of Solesian settlements, known as the Firestarters, pushed back against a recent incursion of Grimm. It's actually the first recorded moment in Remnant history that utilized guerrilla warfare."
"Was there a major figure during that war?"
Whitaker shook his head. "Not from what I read. Though I doubt what I've read is the truth."
"I'm inclined to agree with you," Ironwood growled. He let out a breath. "And this second war?"
"The Icecross War was a decade-long war that occured maybe thirty years before the Great War," Whitaker stated. "It was simply a war that quelled those who resisted the unification of Mantle. It was the last recorded war before the Great War. But there's so little information on it, that it makes me think Atlesians just couldn't write."
Ironwood drew in a deep breath. It seemed like he was about as frustrated as Whitaker was. If not more. "I will see what I can find about this hidden history, as you put it," Ironwood said. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Whitaker. If we cannot learn from our own history, then we are doomed to repeat it."
"Of course, sir," Whitaker said. "If you like, you can keep the notes. Or I can send it to you on Scroll. The latter would have probably been… easier." Whitaker sighed. "I'll send it to you once I find the time."
Ironwood chuckled. "That would be appreciated. Take care of yourself Whitaker. And I'll get back to you as soon as possible. I understand that your entire mission depends on me getting to the bottom of this."
"Thank you, sir."
"Until then, take some time to spar with Winter. You will learn much from her."
"I will, sir."
[;]
Winter released a shout as she stabbed her sword towards Whitaker, the teen just barely ducking out of the way as his Semblance activated. The edges of his irises brightened, his ice blue eyes began to glow as he glared daggers at Winter.
Taking both blades of Lightning, Whitaker combined the blades, flipped into a whirlwind as he attempted to slash vertically at Winter.
But she was too fast. Winter sidestepped the attack and hopped away from Whitaker. Twirling her sword, she impaled her sword into the ground as a bolt of yellow lightning Dust shot through its blade. She conjured gleaming, golden glyph that engulfed her in a brilliant light.
Whitaker recognized the glyph as the one she used during their first fight. Time Dilation.
Winter shot towards him.
Whitaker thrust his hand forward, forcing his Semblance onto the Specialist.
For a split second, the world slowed around him, and Winter's blinding speed became visible.
But Winter clenched her jaw and pushed her own Semblance even further.
Time shattered.
Winter cocked back her leg and delivered a brutal roundhouse kick across Whitaker's chest that sent him tumbling across the training room. The Aura that surrounded him dissipated, and he let out a long groan.
"Again?" Winter asked.
Whitaker got up, rubbing the area where Winter's leg caught him. "Give me five."
And five minutes later, they were at it once again.
Whitaker was covered in sweat, his clothes stuck to his skin, and his long, pale hair was like a wet mop rested atop his head. On the opposite side of the training room, Winter Schnee was in a similar state. Her hair, normally kept in a tight and neat bun, was now drenched in moisture, and was beginning to come loose— her chest rose and fell in time with her heaving breaths as she stared at Whitaker with narrowed eyes.
"Your… Semblance is… just awful," she heaved.
"And so is… yours," Whitaker muttered.
"I haven't even used it this whole fight," Winter shot back.
"Doesn't matter. Still awful." Whitaker fell one knee, the blade of Lightning stabbing into the metallic floor as he used it to keep himself from falling completely to the ground.
Winter's knees buckled. "Giving up already, Whitaker?"
"Winter," Whitaker breathed. "You are literally going to fall over if you take one more step."
The Specialist chuckled and walked to the stands of the training room. She grabbed two bottles of water, tossing one to Whitaker. She pressed one hand to her chest, drawing in deep breaths before popping the cap on her water and taking a long drink of it.
Whitaker did the same. After several minutes of basking in the cool air of the training room and resting, Whitaker slowly rose to his feet.
"Ready to go again?" Winter asked.
"I think I'm done for today," Whitaker said. "You really worked me to the bone."
"I should hope so. I am a Specialist after all."
Whitaker nodded. He'd been thoroughly humbled by her. In the last year, he'd been facing individuals that were mostly below his skill level, though Ruby was close, and he was willing to bet that Coco was just as good if not better than him.
But fighting, sparring as it were, against Winter was a rewarding experience. Even with his Semblance, she still managed to pressure him. The Schnee Semblance had a strange interaction with his own.
Specifically, whenever Winter used her Time Dilation glyph when he activated Reflex. It was like she moved as fast as she normally did.
Whitaker made a mental note about that. Maybe he was thinking about his Semblance incorrectly.
"Whitaker, are you alright?" Winter asked.
"Just thinking about my Semblance," he said. "When you used your Time Dilation glyph at the same time I used my Semblance, did it feel weird?"
"It did," Winter said. "It almost felt like you were—"
"Slowing you down," Whitaker finished. He sighed. "I figured as much."
"I thought your Semblance enhanced your reflexes?"
"So did I," Whitaker said. "But it might not be so. I need to think about this." He finished the rest of his water and began to make his way towards the door out of the training room. "Thank you for your time, Winter. Same time in two days?"
She nodded. "I shall be here, Whitaker."
With one last smile, Whitaker slipped out of the room.
[;]
The door to Ironwood's office slid open as Whitaker stepped through its threshold. The moon was visible directly behind the headmaster's desk, illuminating the entirety of the office and its star-adorned floor.
Ironwood sat before his desk, numerous holographic screens pulled up, and his hands flicking between each one. When the door closed behind Whitaker, Ironwood looked up from his work.
"Ah, Whitaker," he said. "I apologize for asking you to see me at this late hour."
"It's nothing, sir," Whitaker replied. "I assume this is about what we discussed a few days ago?"
"It is." Ironwood pushed his chair back from the desk and stood up. He motioned to the central platform that dominated the middle of the office. "I believe that this will be of use to you."
A series of holographic screens appeared before Whitaker, momentarily surprising him. Whitaker moved a hand towards one screen and captured it. He brought it in front of himself and read through its contents. "This is…"
"Concerning? Dangerous? Damning?" Ironwood filled in. "Yes, all of the above."
"Why would Ozpin try and—"
"That is a question we will keep to ourselves, Whitaker," Ironwood seethed. It couldn't have been pleasant realizing that a long-time ally and friend would keep information as important as this hidden. "Whoever this Harros Vesta individual was, Ozpin wanted him erased from history."
"But if he unified Solitas, then he must have been a decent person, right?"
Ironwood shrugged. "According to these accounts, he was a great and powerful warrior, a charismatic leader, and a moral person."
"Then why would Ozpin want him erased from history if he did so much good?"
"Perhaps it was not what he did, but how he did it."
That… that made sense. This person, this 'Harros Vesta,' if the accounts are true, managed to defeat countless Grimm, unite Solitas under a single banner, and crush all of his opposition in forty short years. But there was more than that.
"He was a conqueror," Whitaker said, looking at another file.
"Yes." Ironwood moved to stand alongside Whitaker. "He was known as the Firebrand. And that name hardly draws up pleasant thoughts."
Whitaker was inclined to agree. "This is a lot of lost history, sir."
"Yes. Some would say it's too much."
"I think anyone would say it's too much."
Ironwood clicked his tongue. "Nevertheless, I hope this is satisfactory?"
Whitaker opened a file that detailed the patterns of movement of the Firestarters and Harros Vesta. "Yes," he said. "This is more than enough. If you don't mind forwarding it all to my Scroll."
"I will see that it is done discreetly," Ironwood said with a nod. "You are dismissed, Whitaker. I have some things to… think about."
Whitaker knew what Ironwood meant by 'think,' and he wished he cared about Grimm enough to pray for their fates. "Of course, sir. Have a pleasant night."
With a final salute, Whitaker left the good General to himself. It was probably for the best. Anything within a thirty-mile radius would be within Ironwood's fury. And Whitaker was not going to die today.
By the time he returned to his room, Ironwood had already sent him all of the files from earlier. Whitaker combed through them, specifically the one that chronicled the movements of the Firestarters and Harros Vesta. From what he could tell when he looked through it in Ironwood's office, the Firestarters moved all across the northern half of Solitas during Igniter's Crusades. It made sense considering that the glaciers far to the north of Atlas and Mantle were often home to a variety of dangerous Grimm, far too dangerous for people to settle within. But back then, you had to make do with what you had. Dust was scarcely used the same way it was now.
According to the files, after the Igniter's Crusades, Harros Vesta took the Firestarters south, where normal settlements thrived. He wanted to unite the settlements under a single banner to truly fight against the Grimm. After all, there wasn't much an individual person and his lone tribe could accomplish on their own.
So the Igniter's Crusades lasted much longer than I originally thought, Whitaker reasoned.
The accounts of individuals that saw Harros Vesta and his Firestarters march through towns in southern Solitas were well-documented, it was easy to come to the conclusion that they were true. What confused Whitaker, however, was why the ruins were in northern Solitas if Harros spent the last half of his life in the south. If it was his tomb, and Whitaker was fairly certain that it was, why would he want to be buried away from his people, his home?
It made no sense.
Whitaker powered off his Scroll and sighed. He laid his head down on his pillow staring up at the ceiling.
And, moments before he fell asleep, thunder boomed.
[;]
Whitaker spotted Weiss struggling to carry a box full of books from the Schnee Manor library to her room while he was walking back from Winter's room. He jogged over and motioned for her to give him the box.
"Any reason why you're reading so much?" Whitaker asked.
"Because I'm bored at home," Weiss said. "My summer has just begun, and I have nothing to do here besides read, sometimes spar, or practice my glyphs."
"Not doing any scouting for your initiations?"
Weiss shook her head. "I don't think I'll need to. Besides, it would take some of the fun away."
Whitaker raised a brow. "Weiss Schnee? Having fun?"
Weiss punched him in the arm. "For your information, I do know how to have fun."
Whitaker smiled. "I believe you. You seem to love singing, after all."
Weiss nodded. "And while we're on the topic of initiations, the SDC just approved to have two units observation drones transferred to Atlas Academy," Weiss said proudly. "I happened to have been the one to initiate the negotiations." She placed a hand on her chest and smiled widely.
Whitaker nearly dropped the box. He looked at Weiss. "Wait. What did you just say?"
"That I initiated the negotiations between—"
"No, no," Whitaker interrupted. "Before that."
Weiss clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. "A unit SDC observation drones were transferred to Atlas Academy."
Whitaker grinned. He adjusted the books and began to walk a little faster toward the heiress' room.
"...What?" Weiss asked. She trailed after Whitaker, but because of the height difference, she had to enter a slight jog to keep up with his walking pace. "What are you walking so fast for?!"
"I have drones to requisition."
"What." Weiss stared at him, her expression completely deadpan. Before she knew it, they stood at the door to her room.
"I'll see you later, Weiss," Whitaker placed the books at the foot of the door. He ran back down the hallway towards Winter's room once again. "Thanks for the information!" He called back.
Standing before Winter's room, Whitaker knocked three times on it.
"Who is it?"
"It's Whitaker."
After a minute, the door pulled open. Winter Schnee wore a loose-fitting, somewhat sheer dress that looked more like sleepwear than loungewear. Her face was flushed with red and Whitaker could see sweat beading on her collarbone.
"What is it?" She asked.
"Weiss just informed me that Atlas Academy received observation drones for the entrance exam, is that right?"
Winter nodded.
"I need to use five of them for my mission."
Winter sighed. "I figured. What for?"
"Retracing some old steps," Whitaker replied. "I'm close to finding the ruins. I'm sure that Ironwood has informed you of my findings?"
"He has, yes," Winter replied. "Very well."
"Am I right to assume these drones have a long surveillance range and will be durable enough to withstand an Atlesian blizzard?"
"I… don't think you know what that even means," Winter said.
"Which part?"
"The Atlesian— you know what, nevermind." Winter coughed into her hand as red tinged her cheeks. "They have a range of about one-thousand miles, and they are strong enough to withstand a swarm of Nevermore."
"I'm surprised Ironwood didn't suggest attaching a Dust machine gun to it."
"Believe me. He did," Winter muttered. "They're just observation drones, however. No firepower to speak of." She cleared her throat. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work."
Whitaker raised a brow. "Work? Is that what we're calling it now?"
"I'm not sure what you're insinuating, Whitaker, but it is highly—"
"Your Scroll was on display mode," Whitaker said, pointing to behind her. "A pretty hardcore video is projecting onto your ceiling right now and —"
"What?!" Winter twisted her neck around so fast Whitaker thought she broke it. When she realized that there was no video playing, she slowly turned back to Whitaker. Her face was as red as a cherry, and she looked like she was about to burst. "Get out."
"Wait," Whitaker realized. "Were you actually mastur—"
"Get. OUT!" Winter shoved him a good five feed and slammed the door in his face.
Whitaker nearly threw up at that mental image.
He held it in. He was already dead. He didn't want some throw up in front of Winter's room to result in his future childrens' deaths either.
Gods have mercy on the man that marries her.
Whitaker shivered.
[;]
"This is brilliant," Ironwood commented, his eyes rapidly flicking through the mission protocol that Whitaker had drafted. "The use of observation drones as surveillance and reconnaissance shows foresight, creativity, and excellent planning, Whitaker. This is genius!"
"I…" Whitaker trailed off. Hearing such wondrous praise from the Headmaster of Atlas Academy and General of the Atlesian Military did little to humble Whitaker. "Thank you, sir. But my test has yet to officially begin."
Ironwood waved him off. "Your test began the moment you boarded the Bullhead to Atlas. Winter knows this. As does your father."
The Specialist standing beside Whitaker nodded. "He has shown dedication, commitment, and the ability to remain steadfast even in the face of great challenge, not to mention his remarkable skill on the battlefield." She looked to Esmond. "You should be proud, Esmond."
The praise felt great. It felt earned. But he wasn't finished yet. "Thank you, Winter."
"I am merely stating facts," Winter replied.
"Nevertheless," Ironwood interjected. "I believe this mission protocol to be suitable. Would you mind showing us the data you gathered from the drones?"
"Right," Whitaker cleared his throat and waved a hand to the holographic screens in the center of Ironwood's office. A series of windows appeared, the first being a map of northern Atlas overlaid with a flight path for the five drones that Whitaker requisitioned. "I had the drones fly in a path nearly identical to the described movements of the Firestarters and Harros Vesta. They flew in a V-formation, each one approximately seven-hundred to eight-hundred feet in the air, while also being five miles apart. The flights themselves took place over the course of three days, and on the third day, Drone 311-B spotted ruins that looked almost exactly like the ones described in the initial mission dossier."
Whitaker waved his hand once again, and a video of Drone 311-B's perspective played in front of both Winter, Ironwood and Esmond. About thirty seconds into the video, Whitaker paused it on a frame where the ruins were clearly visible. "This is the ruin that Drone 311-B saw. Is it the correct one?"
The three individuals looked at one another.
"Yes," Esmond spoke up. "It is. Well done."
Whitaker nodded his thanks. "Seeing as it was the only ruin on this part of the flight path, I sent the drone down to investigate it further. However, about fifty feet from the ground, it was taken down and mostly destroyed by a Grimm."
"Did you get a visual on what type of Grimm?" Winter asked.
Whitaker nodded. "Thanks to the drone's three-hundred-sixty degree camera." He skipped ahead on the video's timeline to seconds before the drone was attacked. Behind the drone, a long, multi-legged Grimm unburrowed from the icy ground and attached itself to the drone. Then, the video feed was cut.
"A Centinel," Winter and Ironwood said in unison.
"Yes," Whitaker said. "Fortunately, all SDC observation drones are equipped with a tracking beacon, and even after the attack, Drone 311-B's tracking beacon wasn't destroyed."
"And you plan to use this tracking beacon as the landing point for the beginning of your mission?" Esmond asked.
"Do I have any other option?" Whitaker asked. "Dropping a Bullhead on top of the glacier that the ruin is right on top is probably a bad idea. That and we have no idea how hot the LZ will be, knowing Centinel Grimm's movement patterns, there's bound to be at least fifty of them nesting near that area."
"Not a bad estimation," Winter conceded. "It'll be dangerous. What about a jump?"
"That's what I was thinking," Whitaker said. "I know how to operate a parachute alone. Dad made sure I was trained in case one of our missions earlier this year called for it."
"It's decided." Ironwood cleared his throat. "Whitaker, Winter has mentioned to me that you are… requisitioning me to act as your pilot for this mission?"
"That's correct."
"Then I will be flying you in a Schnee-specialised Bullhead from Atlas Academy to the tracking beacon of Drone 311-B." Ironwood swiped the holographic screen. "Since we are discussing your mission protocol, we may as well run through the rest of your requisition list." He looked to Winter.
The Specialist nodded. "Standard rations for three days, standard backpack equipped with flares, a flare gun, glowsticks , forty-five feet of coiled rope, a pack of matches, three days worth of water, gauze, bandages, and standard over-the-counter painkillers, as well as a single dosage of morphine."
"All approved," Ironwood said. "Though the morphine might be a bit much."
Whitaker shrugged. "Prepare for the worst."
"Armaments?" Ironwood asked.
"A satchel of lightning and fire Dust grenades, a variable Dust-empowered M201 pistol, a bandolier equipped with three spare magazines, and Lightning, his weapon."
"Awfully light," Esmond commented.
"It's a Search mission, not a Destroy," Whitaker reasoned. "I need to locate the ruins, not destroy them."
"Fair enough."
"Approved once again," Ironwood repeated. "You have a good set of gear. I think this will all be fine." He looked at the other two. "Any disagreements?"
"None here, sir."
"I think he'll be okay."
"Very well." Ironwood snapped to attention and saluted Whitaker. "Well done, Whitaker. Even though you still have at least a few days to prepare, do you wish to depart for your mission tomorrow?"
"Yes," Whitaker replied immediately. He was ready. He was more than ready.
"We leave at 0600."
Whitaker Ash grinned.
It was finally time to get this test started.
Hopefully everyone enjoyed this chapter. I apologize for ending it on a cliffhanger.
Please leave a review with your thoughts. And for those who read my other story, The Producer, an update will be released later this week.
4-Skywalker - Thanks for reviewing. Sorry for the bait-and-switch on the pairing there. And Whitaker will hold his own views towards the faunus, but they are not unlike Weiss'.
