Winter Schnee had always considered herself an excellent judge of character. Yet, life consistently found ways to prove her wrong.
The attack on the train was an obvious message from the White Fang: Atlas's intervention was unwelcome. Winter Schnee watched the chaos unfold, a knot tightening in her stomach. She had dismissed Jaune Arc as green and unsuitable, but now she saw the truth in his eyes. Weiss had spoken of Jaune's sharp mind and strategic thinking, despite his lack of formal training. The shame of his expulsion from Beacon Academy seemed irrelevant now.
What made Winter accept Jaune Arc as a mediator were the cases he successfully resolved. Despite reports of his occasional bar visits, the drunk escapades, he remained a straight-laced government worker who clearly separated his professional and personal life.
Atlas's intelligence officers personally assessed Jaune Arc as a kind man with strong morals. Recently, upon discovering his Semblance, he had devoted himself to healing those in need, further solidifying their positive evaluation of him.
He was effective in Public Relations, and she was certain Atlas by now was generating headlines highlighting his work.
Winter had underestimated him. The strict professionalism in his demeanor was a far cry from the naïve boy she remembered at Beacon. Observing him now was like seeing an entirely different person. He carried a wisdom beyond his years that she found... charming. It became clear why Pyrrha Nikos, as her sister had mentioned, was enamored with him.
Despite abandoning his aspirations as a Huntsman, he continued to train. She saw the evidence of his dedication in the aftermath of his battles — the wreckage he left behind, enhanced by his Semblance, spoke volumes about his capabilities as a potential huntsman.
And to think we wouldn't have known about this if I did not agree with his assignment here.
Winter clicked her tongue.
Winter's voice cut through the frigid air. "Send a team from Argus's base to assess the damage and find Jaune Arc."
The officer at the comms affirmed, relaying the orders swiftly. "Understood, ma'am. I'll dispatch them immediately."
Winter focused her Semblance, extinguishing the flames that threatened to consume the wreckage. As the smoke cleared, the full horror of the attack unfolded before her eyes. Fallen civilians lay charred among the wreckage, victims of an assault meant for her. She couldn't shake the realization that if it weren't for Jaune Arc's quick thinking of separating the train cabin, more lives would have been lost.
Soldiers from Argus rappelled down, landing amidst the chaos. They reported to Winter, their voices tense. "Ma'am, the White Fang members we had trapped have escaped."
Winter's eyes narrowed, her voice cold and demanding. "How could they have escaped?" she demanded, her frustration simmering beneath the surface.
The soldiers shuffled nervously, offering weak excuses. "We... we did everything we could, but they were cunning, ma'am. They found a way out."
Before leaving the scene, Winter turned to the soldiers gathered nearby. "Search the perimeter," she ordered, her voice firm and authoritative. "We need to find any survivors and gather as much information as possible about the attackers." With a determined nod, she summoned a nevermore, leaving the soldiers to carry out her orders as she continued her search for Jaune.
Mounting the creature, she soared across the devastation, surveying the scene below, her eyes sharp for any sign of Jaune Arc. As she reached the front portion of the train, her heart sank at the sight of the mangled wreckage teetering on the edge of a cliff.
Diving, she floated above the shattered remnants of the train, her gaze sweeping over the debris. There was no sign of anyone resembling Jaune Arc amidst the chaos below. Frustration welled within her as she realized he was nowhere to be found.
"This is going to be a nightmare," Winter muttered under her breath, her gaze sweeping across the debris-strewn landscape. "The warmongers will be itching for a fight after this." She shook her head, frustration clear in her voice.
"And Mistral's armored train..." Winter trailed off, her expression grim as she surveyed the devastation. "Destroyed in the blast. This is going to escalate tensions even further."
Winter's thoughts drifted back to the attack on Beacon, realizing it had been merely a glimpse of the impending chaos. If not for the intervention of Headmaster Ozpin, Glynda Goodwitch, and Qrow Branwen, Vale would have fallen into chaos. She could easily imagine Atlas closing its borders in response if Beacon had fallen.
Despite three years having passed, the efforts of Vale and Atlas to combat the threat had yielded only marginal success. Mistral, on the other hand, bore the brunt of the problem, with numerous Huntsmen lost and many more casualties. The situation was dire, made even worse by the turmoil brewing beneath the surface of Vacuo. A revolution led by the Crown, spearheaded by figures like Jax and Gillian Arturias, threatened to plunge the kingdom of Vacuo into further chaos.
Perhaps it was because of the presence of a Mediator in Mantle like Jaune Arc, who was willing to engage in diplomacy, that tensions between Mantle and Atlas were kept somewhat in check. However, to claim that the conflict had been entirely averted would be disingenuous. Figures like Robyn Hill and Hanlon Fifestone continued to advocate for improved conditions for Solitas as a whole, ensuring that the underlying tensions remained simmering beneath the surface.
Atlas harbored concerns about Menagerie, and Winter couldn't deny that the Schnee Dust Company had exerted considerable influence to ensure that Atlas took responsibility for addressing the issues there, forcing Atlas's hand.
With the limited connections she still had within the Schnee Dust Company, Winter was aware it's not the Faunus or White Fang scared them. It's the Mistral Trading Company, who had been offering an alternative that posed a significant threat to the SDC's position.
And she had to admit that upon comparing the Mistral Trading Company's offer with the Schnee Dust Company's, it seemed far more enticing and likely to sway individuals in favor of accepting the MTC's proposal.
The crackle of the comms jolted Winter from her thoughts, and she turned her focus to the soldiers from Argus. Their voice was tense as they relayed the news through the crackling communication line.
"We've found Mr. Arc," one of them reported, their voice crackling with static.
Winter's heart skipped a beat. "Is he alive?" she asked, her voice tense with anticipation, her mind racing with worry.
There was a moment of hesitation before the soldier responded, their voice tinged with disbelief despite the distortion of the transmission. "He's alive, ma'am. Despite... it looks like he took a bomb head-on…"
As Jaune slowly regained consciousness, his senses came back to him in a haze. The world seemed distant, muffled, as if he was underwater. His ears rang with a persistent, high-pitched whine, and his vision swam as he blinked against the harsh light filtering through the dust-soot choked air.
He tried to move, but every muscle protested with a chorus of pain that shot through him like lightning. His body felt heavy, sluggish, as if it was encased in lead. Slowly, he pieced together where he was: the sky staring back, the acrid scent of smoke and burning debris, the faint taste of copper on his tongue.
Then it hit him — a surge of memory flooding back with chilling clarity. The bomb on the cab. He had taken it on point blank. The explosion echoed in his mind, a deafening roar that drowned out all other thoughts.
Fear crept in, icy fingers trailing down his spine. Was everyone else on the train alright? Did anyone else make it out? He struggled to push himself up, his limbs trembling with effort. Every movement sent jolts of pain shooting through him, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself up, using Crocea Mors as a crutch.
Finally upright, he scanned the area, heart hammering in his chest. Dread flooded through him as he spotted the wreckage.
A chill settled in his bones.
"This is the worse," Jaune clicked.
As Jaune's mind swirled with the aftermath of the explosion, he saw an abandoning mining rig in a distance. Seeing this, a voice, clear and resonant, pierced through the haze. It was as if someone had slipped into his thoughts, whispering secrets from a forgotten past.
"You see, knight," the voice began, rich with the weight of history, "There was once a land of abundance, a paradise of riches untold. But greed, like a festering wound, gnawed at the heart of its people."
The voice painted pictures with words, each syllable a brushstroke on the canvas of Jaune's mind. He could almost see it — the sprawling cityscape upon the oasis, teeming with life and vitality, yet tainted by the shadow of corporate avarice.
"There was a company," the voice continued, "Mistral's Trading Company, a titan of industry, who laid claim to the land and its bountiful resources. They mined the earth, plundering its depths for precious dust, heedless of the cost."
Jaune felt a chill run down his spine as the tale unfolded, each word dripping with a sense of foreboding. It was as if he stood at the edge of a precipice, peering into the abyss of the past.
"And when they had taken all that they desired, they left behind a wasteland," the voice intoned, a note of sorrow creeping into its cadence. "The land lay barren, scarred by the greed of those who sought to exploit it."
Images flickered in Jaune's mind's eye — a desolate landscape, stripped bare of its natural beauty, ravaged by the insatiable hunger of industry. He could almost taste the bitterness in the air, feel the weight of despair pressing down upon him.
"But even in the darkest of times, there is hope," the voice whispered, a beacon of light cutting through the darkness. "For Vacuo endures, its spirit unbroken, waiting to rise from the ashes like a phoenix reborn, despite how much blood Mistral has taken from it."
As the visions of the past faded into the present, Jaune's senses sharpened, and he became aware of the Atlesian soldiers marching toward him, their white and blue armor filtering in the faint light filtering through the debris. Then, he saw Winter Schnee descend from the sky, her graceful descent atop her summoned Nevermore, a sight to behold.
Jaune stood, a mix of relief and apprehension washing over him as Winter Schnee approached. Instinctively, he straightened his posture, his hand drifting to his tie as if by reflex, a habit he couldn't seem to shake even though he was battered. His Semblance surged within him, weaving its healing magic through his battered and beaten body, knitting flesh and bone back together in a surge of amplified aura.
Though Jaune had a feeling that the bomb was weaker compared to the full power punch of the Colossus in Argus.
Not that I want to do it again if I can.
After gradually immersing himself in the memories of the Afteran, he sensed a profound connection, akin to being a physical instrument for aura.
I would have died without the damn thing in my head… I need to—-
Winter's voice then cut through his thoughts, her tone firm. "You shouldn't have continued on your own, Mr. Arc," she admonished, her gaze unwavering as she surveyed the aftermath of the explosion.
But Jaune met her gaze with a determined expression, a hint of stubbornness shining in his eyes. "I can take it," he insisted, his voice steady despite the lingering ache of his injuries. "I'm tougher than I look."
As his wounds continued to mend visibly, Jaune couldn't help but offer a lighthearted jest, a feeble attempt to lighten the tension.
"Besides," he added with a wry grin, "I'm more worried about my suit than myself at this point."
Winter's glare softened ever so slightly, amusement dancing in her eyes before she composed herself once more. "Your priorities is to keep yourself safe, Mr. Arc" she remarked dryly, though there was a hint of fondness in her tone.
Jaune's groan echoed softly in the aftermath of the explosion, punctuating the tense silence that followed. As his wounds continued to heal, he couldn't help but address the elephant in the room with a sense of grim determination.
"So... I'm guessing we have to make changes with our approach," he remarked, his tone professional despite the lingering ache in his body.
Winter's gaze flickered skyward, her expression thoughtful as she considered their options. Her personal airship loomed in the distance as it make its approach.
"The plan was to appear... humble and show trust by using Mistral's train," she acknowledged, her voice measured and precise. "But the circumstances have changed, Mr. Arc."
Jaune nodded in understanding, his gaze following hers to the distant silhouette of the airship.
"We'll need to adapt," he agreed, his resolve unwavering despite the uncertainty that lay ahead. "Flexibility is key in situations like these."
"And how do we adapt?" she asked.
"We adapt by keeping this under wraps for now," Jaune suggested, his voice steady despite the gravity of their situation. "Ignore the fact that we've been through the accident. Let them underestimate us."
Winter arched an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued by Jaune's approach. "And what would be the reasoning behind that?" she inquired, her tone tinged with a hint of skepticism.
Jaune's lips quirked into a wry smile as he leaned in to explain his rationale. "It's simple, really," he replied, his gaze steady as he met Winter's gaze. "We'll conceal this card until the perfect moment arises. Then, when they're least prepared, we'll reveal it and assert our authority. Naturally, it's intended to unsettle them, leaving them wondering why we're keeping silent about it. Consider it, Ma'am. If they broach the topic first, it suggests they have some knowledge. If they avoid mentioning it, they're either unaware of the White Fang's assault or pretending to be ignorant."
Jaune then reached for his Scroll, fingers deftly navigating its interface as he uploaded the data he had collected during the chaos of the explosion. The screen flickered to life, displaying footage of the attack, the death of human and faunus alike and the faces of the two white fangs bat and spider faunus who had escaped Winter and the soldiers.
Winter studied the data intently, her expression unreadable as she absorbed the information.
"Are you always prepared, Mr. Arc?" she remarked, a note of admiration coloring her words.
Jaune shrugged as he offered a simple explanation. "Habits, Ma'am," he replied with a small grin. "Sometimes you have to keep records of things like these to persuade people to look your way."
"And besides," he added, a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips, "We can't talk peace while carrying a big gun. Honestly, it's like we've been handed a golden opportunity despite the tragedy."
Winter's gaze sharpened as she considered Jaune's words, a flicker of realization dawning in her eyes.
"You're right," she conceded, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "Sometimes silence can be the loudest statement of all."
Jaune then turned serious, his eyes reflecting a steely determination as he voiced his hope. "Ma'am, I hope we can get some justice for these people."
Winter's expression remained impassive, but the gravity of Jaune's words hung heavy in the air. She nodded solemnly, a silent acknowledgment.
As Winter's personal airship landed with a soft thud on the snow, Jaune cast one last glance at the smoldering ruins behind them, his heart heavy with the weight of their task.
With a sense of purpose, Jaune followed Winter aboard the airship. As they walked up the ramp, Jaune's footsteps echoing softly against the metal. He turned to Winter with a hopeful glint in his eyes.
"Do you happen to have any alcohol on board?"
Winter raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism coloring her expression. "Is that wise, Mr. Arc?" she inquired, her tone tinged with caution.
Oh, she's confused, knight. You can use this.
Jaune shrugged at the intrusive thought, but formed a sheepish smile on his lips. "Well, maybe not the wisest decision," he admitted. "But sometimes, a little bit of liquid courage can work wonders to heal through pain. Besides," he added with a small laugh, "I may heal physical wounds, but I could use something to cure the wounds of the soul."
Winter regarded him for a moment, her gaze softening ever so slightly at his earnest request. With a small nod, she disappeared into the interior of the airship, returning moments later with a bottle of amber liquid cradled in her hands.
"Consider this a temporary remedy, Mr. Arc," she remarked, handing the bottle to Jaune with a weary smile. "But I will have you checked before we head to Mistral."
Grateful, Jaune clutched the bottle tightly in his hands.
Winter looked like she wanted to have a few more words at tight he was holding the bottle, but saw Jaune's poor appearance. Although the wounds healed, his appearance needed fixing.
As Winter leaves, to report the incident to superiors.
You shouldn't show this often, knight. A Willow has shown the horrible face of drunkards are to the Winter and she despises it.
Jaune ignored his thoughts as he felt a familiar tug deep within him, a primal urge that stirs at the sight of the light reflecting off the liquid in the bottle. Like a whispered temptation in a bottle.
It's as if a voice within him was urging himself to give in, to drown the sorrows and lose himself in the comforting embrace of alcohol. Jaune's hands twitch involuntarily.
Any bottle, to numb the pain and silence the chaos within.
His only friend after Beacon Academy.
The friend who decided to introduce him to that knight in his concurring dreams.
Jaune knows that giving in to that urge comes with consequences. He have seen where it leads, the wreckage it leaves behind.
On the floor, feeling bloated.
But he needed his friend to function if things were going to be as crazy as today.
Hello my friend. Time to have a meeting.
The electrons danced within him in joy.