Chapter 7: Italica
Disclaimer: I do not in any way or form own Gate: Thus the JSDF Fought There or RWBY. They belong to their respective owners, Takumi Yanai and RoosterTeeth Animations respectively.
A/N: As requested, I've removed the word 'English' from the previous chapter. Now Remnant speaks an unnamed language. I'm not using 'Valen' or whatever as there appears to be a common language throughout Remnant.
"In an unexpected act of generosity, General Ironwood has allowed the recent refugees of Coda Village to take up permanent residence in a newly constructed Alnus town on Falmart, located a few kilometers from the Gate and fortifications on Alnus Hill. When met with accusations of ulterior motives, General Ironwood responded with the following statement.
'Not a single one of these refugees were coerced or otherwise pressured into the new Alnus Village. They were all given a chance to be transported to a location of their choice, but choose not to take it. While they are within the village, the refugees will be treated fairly and are under the protection of Atlas. Their rights and needs will be tended to appropriately by the best of Atlas.'
While this has been accepted by most members of the public, several still remain stubborn, believing that the General has ulterior motives for this behavior. This group of people is pushing for the General to send some of the natives over to Remnant, so that they may speak for themselves."
Blake ran, stumbling as she did. Her mind was foggy and her vision blurred, but she knew that she had to run. Exiting the alley into a larger, wider path, she turned to keep an eye on her pursuers.
Blake didn't know who was chasing her, or why. Just black shapes in a vague semblance of the human form, they sparked a primal instinct to flee. So she fled, through the winding paths of an old, unknown city.
Where was she? Her mind seemed to be lagging, unable to keep up. Be it lack of sleep, hunger, or maybe even drugs of some sort, Blake found herself straining to form any coherent thought.
So she didn't. Blake just ran, one foot before the other. Ran like how she had been running for her entire life. From Adam, from the White Fang, from her team, from her recent savior Art. From herself.
Blake barely managed to bring herself to a stop as she noticed the figure standing in front of her. His long, black trench coat came down to his waist, where matching pants ran down to his boots. A sheathed sword rested at his hip, and from the midst of his fiery red hair, a pair of bull horns protruded from his head.
Adam Taurus.
"Hello, my darling," he said, and stabbed her with Wilt.
With a gasp, Blake woke up, sweating heavily. Her hand instinctively reached back for Gambol Shroud but found only air. Crouching, tense and breathing rapidly, she scanned the area. Her enhanced eyesight penetrated the shadows that seemed to fill the room, analyzing every corner for possible threats.
When Blake was sure that she was alone in the abandoned house, she allowed herself to relax, if only slightly. The house was crumbling apart around her and home to an army of rats, but that came with it being abandoned. It had proven to be a decent place to hide, and Blake had spent much of her time since escaping the soldiers there.
It wasn't like it was the first time she had to do something like this. Back in her last days as a White Fang member, she had hidden in many similar locations, waiting for the perfect opportunity. Beside her was always her partner, Adam...
No. Not now. Throwing her hood back on, Blake climbed up the interior of the rotting house. She made it up to the roof easily, exiting through a hole in the ceiling and landing on the rooftop. From there, she could look over a good portion of the city. The sky was dark, but the first hints of red had begun creeping up from the eastern horizon.
I should not have run.
Back then, in the heat of the moment, when Blake had found out that she had been sold as a slave, it had seemed the best idea. Run, disappear and stay free. It had been easy. She had been running all her life, after all.
Darting out along the rooftops, Blake laughed bitterly at herself. Now that she had time to think about it, it was a foolish decision. Run from the only person who could speak both languages and into a city of people she couldn't understand. In hindsight, not the greatest plan.
Art had been quite insistent on getting her away. Maybe he had a plan of his own, some ulterior motive? Maybe he needed to get rid of her to carry it out. Blake shook her head. Living in an unknown world had caused her paranoia to skyrocket. No point on dwelling, or suspecting the person who did help her, even if it may not have been the best idea.
The repetitive ringing of metal against metal reached her ears, and Blake brought herself to a stop. For the past few days, she had been exploring the city via rooftop, where she was all but invisible. Nobody ever looked up. The rooftops gave her easy access to much of the city, where she wandered, trying to find something to help her get home.
Guided by her exceptional hearing, Blake stealthily made her way to the source of the sound: a blacksmith. Crouching on the roof of a building opposite the road from the blacksmith shop, Blake once more reached for Gambol Shroud. And once more felt just air.
If she were to survive, Blake would need a weapon. And where better to get one than a blacksmith shop? Unfortunately, Blake realized, she would have to steal it. She had no possible way to pay for it.
Desperate times.
Settling down in a corner, Blake began to observe the blacksmith. As the sun began rising into the sky, the faunus sat in a sheltered area, watching and listening.
The blacksmith was active, the ringing of metal on metal sounding out constantly as Blake watched. Yet, there seemed to be little traffic in the area, very few people entering or exiting the building. Whatever the reason, it was beneficial to her plans. Fewer people meant less chance to be discovered.
Blake decided to make her move at lunchtime, when she saw the blacksmith, a huge man with equally huge muscles, leave and lock the door with a chain. Beside him was another man, smaller but no less muscled. For the first time in hours, the shop was silent, the blacksmith and his assistant wandering off to find some food.
Blake made sure he had left before getting up from her spot. Stretching her legs to restore the circulation, she prepared to commit a little bit of breaking and entering. And theft.
Looking around one last time to make sure that there was no one around, Blake walked over to the front door. The chains were heavy and strong, closed by a lock. She could try to pick it, but she would need some tools.
There was a piece of wire on the ground and she took it, bending it slightly to test its durability. It would serve her purpose, but she needed a knife if some sort, and there weren't any simply lying around. As she started looking for alternate entrances, Blake suddenly remembered that she did have a knife.
From her boot, she drew out the small, sharp knife that Art had loaned her. She hadn't needed it before, but it would help now. Kneeling down, Blake began to work on the lock, heart starting to race.
She didn't have much time, and she hadn't done this for a long time. If the lock was strong, the wire snapped, the knife blunted or really, if any single thing went wrong, it would fail.
The lock almost fell apart under her attack, and Blake blinked. That had been surprisingly easy. The lock and chain fell away.
Deciding against pushing her luck further, Blake quickly nudged open the door and slipped in, making sure to close it behind her. It didn't really matter - anyone who came back and saw that the lock was broken would immediately know that it had been broken into.
The shop was dim due to a lack of windows, lit by just a single oil lamp. Taking it, she quickly used its light to illuminate the area, easily spotting the weapons rack. She headed over, careful not to touch anything else. Rows of newly forged swords, daggers, shields, spears, and a few war axes gleamed in the light of the oil lamp. Blake couldn't help but feel disappointment run through her. Based on what she had seen of this world, their weapons were lackluster at best. Gambol Shroud, her preferred weapon, was a Variant Ballistic Chain Scythe. This shop had nothing close to it.
Sighing, Blake reached for a pair of swords and their sheaths. They were the closest she could get to her original weapon, so they would have to do. She strapped both around her chest, ensuring that the swords lay across her back, where she usually kept Gambol Shroud. Not only was she used to it, but her cloak would hide it well.
It was time to leave, Blake decided. Every second she spent increased her chances of getting caught. She turned to leave, and the front doors burst open, allowing sunlight to flood into the shop. It also revealed a very angry blacksmith.
The blacksmith bellowed something at her, but Blake was more focused on finding a way to escape. Besides, it was not like she could understand what he was shouting. Unfortunately, the front door was the only way out, and the blacksmith was currently blocking it.
Tired of yelling ineffectively, the blacksmith suddenly picked up a hammer and charged her. He swung it at her, the blow strong but slow. Blake easily backed away, dodging the attack. The blacksmith stumbled, off-balance, and Blake took the opportunity to kick out, sending the heavyset man to his back. Dashing past his prone body, Blake ran out of the shop.
And promptly took a fist to the face. Her aura lessened the impact, but Blake was swept off her feet. Her fuddled mind registered that the blacksmith had an assistant, who must have been the one to strike her. He reached down in an attempt to grab Blake, but she leaped to her feet and sprinted down the road.
Right into a pair of fully armored guards.
The guards took one look at the situation - a cloaked person running from the local blacksmith who was screaming of theft - and drew their own conclusions. Admittedly, they drew the correct conclusions, but Blake didn't expect one of them to swing his sword, aiming to cut her down.
Leaping back, Blake managed to mostly dodge the strike, leaving only the tip of the sword to graze against her aura. Unfortunately, the move caused her hood to fall away, revealing her faunus ears to everyone present. Her ears flattened against her head instinctively, but it was too late.
After the moment of shock had passed, there was more shouting that Blake couldn't understand. Annoyed by the lack of a response, a guard slashed at Blake once more.
Once more Blake backed away, trying to find a way out without killing anyone. Unfortunately, a crowd had formed around her and the two guards, preventing a simple escape. They slashed again, and Blake kept backing away, but she was running out of space.
Without another choice, Blake drew her stolen swords, holding one in each hand. The action caused a roar to erupt from the bloodthirsty crowd. The guards regrouped, wary.
Just like Gambol Shroud, Blake thought. Except it wasn't. The stolen swords were too large and heavy, unlike her lighter and more elegant weapon. Their balance was off.
The guards came at her together, intent on using their numbers advantage. Blake ducked under one's slash and crossed her swords to block the other.
The plan was that her swords and the guards' would lock. In reality, Blake's aura enhanced strength threw her assailant backward, his armor clanking as he skidded along the ground.
As shocked as everyone else, Blake barely managed to see the first guard attacking her from her side. Instinct took over as her semblance activated, leaving only a clone to be cut. Blake then swept her swords to meet his, the impact shattering the latter.
The guard dropped to his knees, his damaged weapon falling from his grip and his face registering awe and fear. The other guard had also left his sword on the ground as he recovered, and too kneeled. Around them, the crowd's whispers quietened. One by one, they dropped to a knee in deference.
What?
Before the frozen Blake could do anything, the bandits attacked the city.
The men, about twenty of them, were clustered around a makeshift barricade in the middle of the path. Their armor, once gleaming, polished metal, marked them as members of the Coalition Army. But ever since their crushing defeat at Alnus, they were nothing more than bandits. Bandits who had just spotted new prey.
"Halt!" the bandit chief, elected after the death of their previous commanding officer, called out at the approaching carriage. Then he frowned. The carriage wasn't drawn by horses, neither was anyone pushing it. How was the horseless carriage moving at all?
The chief put the thought out of his mind. It was coming to a stop at the impromptu blockade, and that was all that mattered. He could see through the front of the vehicle to see the driver, a male, and a beautiful woman beside him. A lustful grin broke out on his face - she would make a great prize.
The driver stepped out, a strange device in his hand, and faced the group of bandits. They had scrounged up some debris to block the road, preventing anyone from crossing. Around the makeshift barrier, the twenty or so bandits gathered, staring at the strangers.
"State your name and destination!" the chief bellowed. There was silence for a moment before the reply came in a strange manner. The man spoke into his device and, a moment later, it projected his voice into the air.
"My name is Tai. We are on the way to Italica. We mean no harm; allow us to pass."
"Tai, eh? If you want to pass, you must pay a toll," the chief ordered, chucking to himself. Around him, his underlings gathered, slowly moving to surround the vehicle.
"What do you want?" Tai asked, wariness in his voice.
Snickering, the chief pointed to the woman, who was still sitting within the vehicle. "Her," he demanded, "Give us the woman, and you may pass."
The door slammed open, and Vela stepped out. Her dress blazed, as though afire, her eyes shining in rage. The chief didn't notice that, though - his gaze was fixed on her chest and hips. Vela yelled out in her language, which Tai's device helpfully translated. "Bandits! Foolish scum. Do you want me? Come get me!"
Her challenge given, Vela drew out her staff from her back. It was currently just a staff, but the various pieces of machinery on it suggested that it could be far more. Holding it in a ready position, Vela waited for the bandits.
The bandit chief met her challenge and rushed forward, drawing his sword. Behind him, the other bandits cheered. He sneered, obviously not taking her seriously. Vela would make him regret it.
As her opponent approached, Vela swung her staff. The first strike knocked the bandit chief's sword out of his hand, the next striking him on the temple, stunning him. Taking advantage of his incapacitation, Vela swung her staff in a downward arc behind her, building up momentum to send the weapon flying up between the chief's legs. The force of the blow sent him almost flying into the air, his face twisted in agony before he collapsed, unconscious.
The next few moments were silent as the men all winced. Then, with a roar, the remaining bandits rushed forward, swords in their hands and murder in their eyes. Calmly, Vela returned to her basic stance, waiting for them to approach.
Before she could counterattack, a black-dressed figure landed in front of her, between Vela and the bandits. Rory Mercury, gigantic halberd in hand, stood between them, her very presence striking fear into the hearts of the bandits. With a curtsey, she began to speak in a chilling tone.
"Bandits, how far you have fallen. Thank you for offering your lives to me. I thank you on behalf of my god. Emroy is very pleased with your gift, and he says that I should enjoy myself with you."
Then she darted forward, halberd slashing away. It cleaved cleanly through any armor, Rory killing the bandits almost effortlessly. Blood spurted freely, the twenty reduced to five within a few seconds. The surviving ones gave in to their fear and fled, only for Rory to dash after them with unnatural speed, before cutting them down.
Soon she returned to the blockade, her clothes splattered with blood. Vela gazed upon the scene impassively, still holding her staff. The young girl returned her gaze, surrounded by the corpses of her victims. Somehow, her dress was still pristine, unstained by the blood that flowed like water.
"I had it under control," Vela stated, grimacing as the smell of blood began to permeate the air.
Rory laughed but didn't reply. Tai, watching in silence from the side, asked, "What are you?" His voice carried both awe and newfound fear.
"You truly know nothing of the Apostles?"
Their confused faces told Rory that the answer was an obvious no. "The Twelve Apostles are the caretakers of this world. As ordained by the gods, we keep the balance of this world, and remove any unwanted elements," Rory explained, gesturing to the corpses that lay around her.
Tai's eyes narrowed. "We need to talk."
"Quickly! We are almost there!" Princess Pina rallied her knights as they rode to Italica. A few days ago, along with her aide Hamilton and her mentor Grey, she had heard several interesting rumors in a bar. That some mysterious 'Men in White' had driven off a flame dragon, but more importantly, that Italica was under siege. Thinking it to be the work of the invaders from the Gate, Pina had brought her knights riding to help the city, while the slower foot soldiers followed behind.
The walls of the trade city loomed up before them, and the black smoke pouring into the air suggested that they were late. The city was already under attack.
"Go! Help the defenders!" Pina commanded. Her Rose Knights bore their banners high as they rode in, ready to engage with the enemy.
Pina soon found out that they were not the enemy from beyond the Gate. Instead, their clothing and weapons showed their identity as mere bandits, not the powerful opponents from another world. Her disappointment was short-lived as her forces met the bandits, the more disciplined and trained knights cutting through their opposition.
When the battle was over and the bandits retreated, Pina made her way to the Formal mansion. Revealing her identity to the clan, Pina took command of the Countess' soldiers in defense of Italica. She rallied the forces, preparing for the inevitable next attack, planning to delay until the majority of her forces could arrive.
Exhausted, she was about to retire to bed when a noble came to her, saying, "Princess Pina, there's someone who wants to speak to you. He says that he can help, and his name is... Art."
A/N: The title 'Men in White' came from third recon, which was comprised of Atlas soldiers and specialists. They wear a lot of white. First, second and third recon are Atlas soldiers and specialists, while Ozpin himself personally created FORT for Vale. Fifth and sixth represent Mistral and Vacuo. Anyway, that's how our Remnant guys got their title.