"From a shot that would change the world, tensions rise and a war is unfurled. Nothing like what had come before; it's the war that will end all war."
- Joakim Broden, Sarajevo
"Sorry kid, not happening."
Pyrrha huffed angrily and turned her back on yet another failed attempt at getting a ride to Mistral.
She'd been at the bullhead docks in Vale for the entire day, and yet couldn't find a single bullhead willing to take passengers to Mistral. It was ridiculous. She understood there was a war but there should have been some traffic between the two kingdoms, or at least a pilot or two willing to run the risk for the right price!
But no, there was nobody. No matter how many times she assured them that no, Mistral wouldn't shoot them out of the sky, and yes she really could pay well, nobody had given it a second thought. Just 'sorry, nothing I can do' and that was it.
Resisting the urge to take out her anger on a nearby wall, Pyrrha crossed her arms and sat on a passenger bench until a new bullhead landed for her to solicit. Of course it was vanishingly unlikely that they'd actually agree to take her to Mistral, but she had to try didn't she?
But beneath the layer of anger that coated her thoughts, Pyrrha understood. She knew that none of these people actually owned the bullheads they piloted, and that by taking her to Mistral they weren't only running the risk of entering an active war zone — and gods did she hate that that was how she had to describe her home now — but they were also guaranteed to be fired and probably arrested the second they got back to Vale.
So no, Pyrrha really couldn't blame any of the pilots that had rebuffed her today. But that didn't do much to ease the pit she felt in her stomach the closer the Atlesian airfleet crept to Argus. Closer to Mistral.
Two hours and another dozen rejections later, Pyrrha was forced to call it a day. The bullhead docks wouldn't close, but with the sun setting her odds of getting a ride to Mistral had gone from near zero to zero.
Pyrrha flew home dejected.
"What were you thinking?!"
"I left a note." Pyrrha mumbled.
"Which is the only reason you're not showing up in a cop car!" Pyrrha's mom bit back, standing irately in the frame of their home's front door. "Get inside! Now!"
Pyrrha bit her tongue and did so. It's not like she'd come back to stay outside.
"To your room!"
Pyrrha paused, let out a deep breath through her nose, and changed her direction from the kitchen to the stairs. There went her plans to eat today.
"Your scroll." Pyrrha heard her mother's irate voice call after her from the bottom of the stairs.
Stopping again, Pyrrha looked back. Her mom stood at the foot of the stairs, one hand in a fist on her hip and the other extended towards her expectantly.
"No."
Her mom's eyes flashed in anger. "If you think for a single moment that you're not grounded after trying to pull a stunt like this, then you're sorely mistaken. Scroll. Now."
"No." Pyrrha repeated. "I'm keeping my scroll. I'm going to try to get a ride again tomorrow, and I'll need my scroll."
"You're going to try again?" she asked, incredulous. "No, you're not. You're not going to step foot out of the house for the rest of the summer. You have three seconds to give me your scroll before it becomes the rest of the year!"
Out of deep breaths, Pyrrha closed her eyes and did her best to ignore every bit of noise from the outside world. She thought back to what Percy — damn him — had taught her back when he'd been her instructor. That civilians, people without aura, were just… nothing compared to someone who had aura and trained with it. That she should never, under any circumstances, physically attack someone without aura who wasn't putting someone at risk of permanent injury or death. That turning things physical in a conflict between her and a civilian was like hitting a toddler because it was being annoying.
She'd really struggled to follow that rule sometimes. Teachers — the more academic ones —, paparazzi, cousins from some of the other great families. The words they said sometimes… Pyrrha considered herself a nice person (or at least she hoped she was) but every now and then the urge to show them that all the words in the world couldn't stop her from doing whatever she wanted to shut them up was near overpowering. She'd been told it was commonplace among huntsmen in training, a side effect of their enhanced ability and constantly being engaged with violence.
But never before had Pyrrha felt the urge to show someone in her family — her real family — just how little their words really meant if Pyrrha decided not to listen.
Channeling that same feeling, Pyrrha did what Percy told her to do in this situation. Not her teachers or counselors or therapists who taught she should always act mature and responsible like a machine incapable of flaw, but what her mentor somehow knew she would eventually need to do.
Recalling Percy's advice, Pyrrha thought about how her mom didn't matter right now. Her mom couldn't stop her, or do anything to affect her in any real way. But that didn't mean Pyrrha had to demonstrate that by shoving her away or showing her strength somehow. Instead, she just turned and continued climbing up the stairs. She had nothing to prove. Nothing to argue. Nothing that could be taken from her. No reason to listen.
Going straight to her room, Pyrrha shut the door behind her and continued ignoring the yelling that followed her upstairs. Leaping onto her bed, Pyrrha pulled out her scroll and turned it on, being flooded with notifications when she did. She promptly ignored the messages from her mom and scrolled through the rest. Mr. Xiao-Long, she was surprised to see, had called her a few times. Less surprising, she'd had calls from a couple friends from signal. Well… calling them friends was maybe a bit strong. With most of them she'd never hung out with them outside of school much, but Pyrrha wouldn't normally mind their company. Skimming the messages she'd received, she quickly replied to the ones asking if she was doing okay and ignored the ones asking about Percy or the war. Some of those, she blocked.
Eventually she came across Yang's messages. Skipping reading them entirely, Pyrrha opened the chat box and went straight to typing.
Can you come over?
The response was almost instant.
yeah ill be right there, just gimme a couple to finish something
My window will be open.
oh, THAT kind of visit. omw.
Fifteen minutes of laying alone on her bed later two hands popped over the side of her windowsill. Pyrrha stood from her bed to offer a hand and Yang accepted it with a nod, pulling herself in.
"So, what's up P-money?" Yang asked, breathing a bit labored. She plopped herself down on the aforementioned girl's bed and crossed her arms behind her head. "How ya' holdin up?"
Pyrrha's smile faded, and she sat down beside her friend.
"Stressed." she admitted, explaining the day's events. How she knew she had to get back to Mistral, but hadn't found a single bullhead willing to take her there.
Yang sat up so that they were now sitting shoulder to shoulder and grimaced
"Well… how about a ship?" she suggested. "Plenty of captains own their own ships, right? Besides, Mistral probably has to import food and other stuff, right? Those goods have to get there somehow."
Pyrrha sighed unhappily. "Yeah I guess, but it could take weeks to get to Mistral by sea. I can't afford to wait that long."
Yang shrugged. "Well, it's not like you've found another way to get there, right? Every day you wait is another day it'll take you to get there."
Pyrrha was silent for a few moments, but nodded solidly. "You're right. I have to try, and I won't get anywhere just trying the same thing over and over again, will I?" she stood, sending Yang a quick smile. "Thanks for the advice Yang." she said, turning to the door.
"Woah woah woah!" Yang hopped up, leaping in front of Pyrrha and grabbing her by the shoulders. "Where are you going?"
Pyrrha looked confused. "To get a bullhead to Vale, to wait at the docks. Isn't that what you just suggested?"
Yang shook her head rapidly. "Big P, you can't just go to the docks. It's like nine at night, you just got home. Give it a rest. Nobody will be there anyway, everyone else wants to sleep too."
Pyrrha crossed her arms. "There might be someone leaving for Mistral tonight."
Yang rolled her eyes and dragged Pyrrha by her arm back to her bed. After a brief consideration, Pyrrha let herself be pulled back.
"You're right." Yang agreed earnestly. "There might be. And there might be a meteor with a lot of metal in it passing overhead tonight that you could leap up to and use to get to Mistral!"
Pyrrha's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I can't pull myself to metal, it only works the other way around. Besides, a meteor would be far too far up and hot for me to attempt to-"
Yang grabbed her by the shoulders. "Pyr, girl, it was a joke."
Pyrrha blinked. "I know, but still-"
"Look," Yang interrupted, "point is, you're not gonna find anyone tonight, and the few hours aren't gonna make a difference. Stay here, get some rest, eat some food, and we'll go in the morning. Besides, I need to tell my dad where I'm going and say bye to Rubes."
Pyrrha paused. "...We?"
"Of course we." Yang snorted, lightly hitting her on the shoulder. "What kinda friend would I be if I let you go off on your own? Not a good one, that's for sure. Besides, ignoring the whole drama with that stalker dude, it's been pretty boring 'round here. Without you around to spar, it'll be unbearable."
"Yang, we'll be heading to a war." Pyrrha wasn't smiling. "This isn't a field trip."
"I know." Yang said, sobering slightly. "But you're clearly not in the right state of mind, and someone's gotta take care of you. Besides, I'm training to be a huntress. Going on dangerous voyages to help people is kinda par for the course."
Pyrrha shifted uncomfortably. "You still want to help Mistral and Percy? Even after everything on the news?"
Yang waved a hand dismissively. "People on TV lie all the time, right? Atlas is invading Mistral, of course they'd make up stuff about why. Besides, there's no way half that stuff about Percy is true. I mean, I've known him since I was a kid and he practically helped raise you. He's been nothing but good to us, right? And he's uncle Qrow's friend, and uncle Qrow is great at spotting wackos a mile away. So why would I listen to some guy on TV being paid to tell me he and the rest of Mistral are evil over my own family and friends?"
Rubbing her arm, Pyrrha slowly smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Yang."
"Of course, P-money." Yang bumped her fist against Pyrrha's shoulder. "But seriously, get some rest. We'll go first thing tomorrow morning. Promise."
Pyrrha nodded resolutely. "Okay. I'll wait for you. We'll meet at the bullhead docks at six tomorrow."
Yang made a face. "Six? Come on, that's too early to be awake, much less-" Pyrrha shot her a look, and Yang trailed off. "Okay, fine. Six it is. I should get home, then. I'll be half asleep as-is." she groaned.
"Thank you Yang." Pyrrha sent her a sincere smile. "For everything."
Yang stood from Pyrrha's bed and shot her a wink. "What're BFFs for, right? See ya tomorrow, P." she said, climbing back out the window and leaping into her backyard.
Walking over, Pyrrha sent Yang a last wave and shut the window, turning to prepare for bed before turning in for the night.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow she'd be on her way back to Mistral.
The docks — the regular ones, that was, not the bullhead docks — were busy even at the early hour. Everywhere one looked you could see the bustling activity of a day just getting started. Not much machinery was moving around yet, but people moved on and off ships in a flurry of clipboards and coffee.
"Excuse me." Pyrrha approached a nearby man sitting on a barrel. He was in his middle ages somewhere, a bit overweight, with a wide coating of scruff covering his face. Sure enough in one hand he held a coffee, but his other held a scroll. "Do you know where I can find a manifest of the ships docked here?"
"Hng?" the man looked up, "Oh, uh, gotta talk to the dockmaster for that kid. They don't just give that out."
A man who Pyrrha presumed was his coworker — much younger, thinner, and a little cleaner shaven — leaned over and whispered in his ear. Pyrrha didn't catch any of it, but she didn't miss the way both of their eyes locked on to her.
As the short conversation went on, the older man's posture shifted. By the time the younger employee pulled back, the older man's scroll was in his pocket and coffee set to the side.
"Sorry about that." he apologized, "Anyway, I don't have a manifest but maybe there's something I can help you with?"
Now a bit on guard, Pyrrha decided to ask anyway. "I'm looking for ships heading to Mistral, if you know of any."
The man looked confused. "Uh, no. Not any passenger ships, anyway." he told her. A moment later his co-worker elbowed him, and he snapped to. "I mean, I know of some cargo heading there. If that's alright with you, I mean. Just you and your… friend, I assume?" he asked, looking past her to where Yang stood, eyes lidded and half asleep.
Pyrrha nodded. "A cargo ship will be more than sufficient."
The man looked elated. "Yeah, yeah, got it. I need to go talk to some people, but I can find you a ride. I'll be right back, if you wait right here. This is Jason, he'll keep you company. Feel free to ask him if you need anything." he introduced his co-worker. "Oh! And, uh, I'm John. Sorry, didn't introduce myself. Early hour and all."
Pyrrha smiled understandingly. "It's no problem at all. I'm Pyrrha, and this is Yang." she said. Yang lifted a hand halfway into the air and then decided it wasn't worth it and let it fall, vaguely hoping it would pass for a wave.
"Right. Right. Nice to meet you Pyrrha… And Yang! Nice to meet you both." he stumbled. "I'll be right back." he repeated, turning and hurrying away.
They spent a handful of moments in silence. Yang sleepily made her way over to the barrel the man — John — had vacated, and sat down.
"Can I get you some coffee, or…?" Jason, the younger one, trailed off.
Yang grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him close.
"Could you? Cream and two sugars."
Laughing nervously, Jason disappeared into a small nearby building — more of a shed, really — and came out several moments later with a steaming cup of coffee. He handed it to Yang, who cradled it like it was her child.
The three spent the next several minutes in awkward silence until John returned with an even older, more unkempt looking man. Though, Pyrrha noted, this one wasn't overweight. If anything he looked malnourished. And he was dressed far differently too. Instead of a high-visibility jacket and a hard helmet like the other two, the man wore a ragged blue trench coat which looked like it could have been as old as the man wearing it.
"This is Acastus." John introduced hastily. "He's the captain of the Argos, which is heading to Mistral today."
Jason blinked, and pressed off the railing he'd been leaning on. "But the Argo-"
"Jason." Interrupted John. "Could you go check the manifest for The Voyager?"
John glanced at a nearby clipboard resting on a crate..
"Again."
"On it." Jason took the hint, if dejectedly, scooping up the clipboard and making his way to the nearest ship.
"What's up with that?" Yang, beginning to wake up, asked, jerking her head towards the retreating figure.
"That's something we need to talk about, actually." John said tentatively. "The Argos is a cargo vessel, through and through. It's registered as one, and it's illegal to carry anyone more than its crew. Normally carrying someone extra would earn a slap on the wrist, but uh, recent events in… well, everywhere really, has made Vale take the charge a bit more seriously. Normally we'd be heavily fined, investigated, and if they decided we were delivering soldiers to a war… to make an example and keep the other kingdoms happy, it'd be prison time for everyone involved and probably shuttering the company. However, since it's you we're smuggling they'd go ahead and skip the investigation part. So, the fewer people involved — newer employees especially — the better. Which is why I'll promptly be leaving you with Acastus here. If you have any problems with Acastus — though I can assure you you won't — feel free to ask around for me. Otherwise, it'd be a good idea if you didn't talk to anyone more than you need to. Safe travels." he bid them, turning and walking away like it was just another tuesday.
Two pairs of eyes turned to the remaining man.
Acastus grunted. "If you wanna go to Mistral, I'm yer' guy. The Argos is the only ship our company has leavin' these docks for Mistral for two days. But before we talk, let's get outta the open. You two ain't exactly covert." he pointed out. Yang and Pyrrha glanced at each other. Pyrrha in her full armor with Milo and Akuouo, and Yang with her own bright yellow outfit and Ember Cecila strapped to her arms.
Nodding, the two followed the captain to the small building nearby where Jason had gone to get coffee. The captain shut the door and locked it from the inside. So nobody would accidentally come in, Pyrrha guessed.
"I'll be blunt," he began, "the only reason I'm bein' ordered to do this is so we look good with the boss in Mistral. The one runnin' yer' kingdom. We do a fair bit of business wit' em' both in Mistral and Vale. We offload our goods at his markets and pick em' up from his factories and farms. As ya herd we're takin a lotta risk movin ya'll, so before I let ya' on my ship the brass tax comes down to two heavy prices. The first, that you make it known who gotcha through Atlas waters safe, and talk to the boss over there about how we're lookin' for more work. The second, is lien. A lot of it."
"How much is a lot?" Yang asked, wiping her mouth of the remnants of her coffee and tossing the empty cup into a nearby trash bag.
"That depends how much ya have." Acastus snorted. "Yer' two kids. We don't expect ya to have that much lien, but in Mistral? If you let yer pa know how much we're owed, we expect to be paid. Until then, we'll have to work out some other collateral."
"We could help defend the ship." Yang offered. "Grimm have to be a problem sometimes, right? I'm sure you have your own security but a little extra never hurt anyone."
The old man hummed from the back of his throat, one hand coming up to scratch at the loose skin hanging from his chin.
"Plus," Yang pointed out, eyes (thankfully not literally, Pyrrha noted) lighting up, "if we're there to protect the ship, we're technically crew. We don't have any licenses or anything, but what's the punishment for hiring unlicensed workers compared to smuggling two potential soldiers to a war?"
The pitch of the man's considering hum went up a notch, and Pyrrha sent Yang an impressed look. "That ain't a bad idea, missy." If the captain noticed Yang's eyes narrowing or fists tightening, he didn't show it. "I ain't convinced they wouldn't just throw the book at us anyway, but that might be enough for one'a them lawyer types to work with. Alright, you got yourself a deal. In fact, I think I can cut the price to half."
"What's that leave us at?" Yang asked, a pleased grin on her face, earlier comment apparently forgotten.
"Two million."
Yang spluttered, which soon turned into a cough.
"Sorry, how much?" Pyrrha asked, leaning forwards.
"Two million lien." he repeated.
"That's enough to buy a new ship!" Yang hacked out, hitting her chest.
"Actually, my ship is more than three times that price." he replied calmly. "And that ain't include crew, cargo, or maintenance. And it ain't the ship you're paying for. It's insurance for the hundreds of workers and the several hundred million lien company we're putting at risk by letting you board. We'll definitely be inspected before leaving — they should be focused on looking for weapons shipments, but you're a risk all the same. One whisper gets out about you two, one little scrap, and two million's a bargain."
"If you think we're paying two million, you're crazy." A recovered Yang told him. "I was expecting a few thousand. That's an expensive trip. Two million is absurd."
"Yer' welcome to find anyone else in this city who's willin' to do it for less." he challenged. "You might get a cheaper price from a smaller ship on the off chance you can find one headin' to Mistral, but it's a lot harder to hide you two on a twenty foot ship. It's the price, you can pay it or not. Just decide by noon, cause' we're leavin' with or without ya."
Yang took a step forward, but Pyrrha stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "We'll do it. We'll pay."
Yang span ninety degrees. "What? Pyrrha, what are you thinking?! How would we even get that much?!"
Reaching into her pocket, Pyrrha pulled out a red card with a gold trim and handed it to Acastus.
"A birthday present, from Percy." Pyrrha explained. "For my sixteenth. A credit card. He said to use it for relatively small purchases or emergencies only, but as far as I know it's limitless."
Pyrrha didn't mention that even without the card she'd have been fully capable of paying. She'd been getting sponsorships, brand deals, and ticket earnings for going on four years now. Plus, she was a member of the Nikos family and had access to… a lot of money, if she needed it. But she wasn't sure where else she could find two million in one account and didn't want to waste any time figuring it out, so… card it was.
Acastus, for his part, looked at the card like he was holding the holy grail. Yang wasn't quite the same, but her eyes were certainly glued to the piece of metal.
"Consider yourselves passengers on the Argos." the man said softly.
Internally, Pyrrha brothe a sigh of relief.
Glancing between Pyrrha and the card once more, the captain shook his head. "I need to go run this. I'll be right back."
He unlocked the door and left, the heavy thud of the metal door shutting signaling his departure.
"P-money." Yang said suddenly, turning to Pyrrha so that their gazes met evenly. "We need to go clubbing sometime."
Large cannons rattled the very air around them as they fired one after another. Dozens of the turrets mounted along the city wall and within various points of the city echoed the loud boom of their rounds being sent hurtling towards Atlesian airships.
Percy had feared that Ironwood might have sat his fleet just close enough that they could fire their guns accurately, which would mean that the defensive turrets several hundreds of feet below would fall short of their target every time. Most of Ironwood's cannons were not large enough to reach ranges as far as the city's turrets, sure, but the capital ships had several turrets mounted that had the same range. Percy was reminded that this was not Earth, and using such an advantage that even an average civilian would probably think of back home (at least in the states) had not sprung to Ironwood's mind.
The battle was as old-fashioned as one could get, considering it was primarily being fought by automatons, automatic turrets, and airships. Ironwood had had his transports fly around the city to land on the plains which approached it from the south to deploy the Atlesian Knights while his battlefleet attacked it head on.
Percy watched as the myriad cannons, missiles, and heavy machine guns fired back in vain. They did a hefty bit of damage, and he spotted a few ships that would need some serious maintenance before they were battle-ready again. The damage to the automaton Knights was even larger, masses of the things being destroyed in swathes as they approached over open land in neat formations. But it was far from all of them; Percy would know. After all, he'd sold Atlas the things, and he knew in what numbers.
But one by one the more sturdy defenses fell all the same. Percy grit his teeth as he saw shells launched indiscriminately into the interior of the city to target miscellaneous defenses or government buildings. Even when they were at their most accurate the debris and shrapnel posed a danger to the general population. But when they missed, entire buildings fell in on themselves, collapsing with plumes of fire and clouds of dust. Buildings that held nothing but the livelihoods and souls of the innocent.
Out of the corner of his eye Percy spotted grimm approaching the city, more and more gathering at the edge of a treeline, drawn by the fear, grief, and hate he was sure. It wouldn't ordinarily be enough to threaten much of any major population center, but with the city's defenses in the state they were…
Within a single short hour of when the fighting had begun it was over, silence and the occasional pattering of cannon shells being sent into the woods to evaporate a group of grimm. Gunfire briefly erupted every now and then as the Atlesian drones and now landing soldiers swept into the city, but it was obvious that the battle was over.
Percy set the tablet aside with an unhappy sigh. Argus was supposed to be the hardpoint of resistance against Atlas. The bulwark against an invasion. The fortress where he could amass his forces and hold them at bay from Anima.
But the war had started too soon. The slow, creeping suspicion of Percy's last resort hadn't been what had clued them in. It hadn't been what he'd planned for. Instead, it was Wolke and Percy's operations in Vale that had done him in. And to think that out of all the ways for Percy's identity to be revealed and his plans to fall apart, it was by a man he hadn't even considered a real player.
Argus' defenses had been bolstered, but not enough. It wasn't the stronghold he'd envisioned, and it wouldn't have been enough for him to hold off Atlas.
"I hate that this is all broadcasted as if it's some sort of entertainment." Shiro scowled, not looking in any better of a mood.
Percy glanced distastefully at the tablet he'd been holding a moment before. "I agree." he said, "But regardless of the motivations of the people holding the camera, it's good that people see what's happening. At least, better than leaving it a mystery. We're the ones being attacked here. The people of Mistral are the ones having their homes and livelihoods ruined. Their loved ones taken from them. Even if Atlas wins, that won't soon be forgotten."
Shiro's scowl deepened.
"We'll win." Percy assured him, guessing the reason his mood had soured. "We'll beat them here, where we're strongest, with our people. We'll turn them back."
Shiro nodded. "I know." he said, his scowl being slowly replaced by a small, amused smile. "After all, I'm only around so long as you don't lose, remember? You can't afford to do anything but win. You'd be helpless without me."
Percy allowed himself to crack a smile of his own. "If I didn't have you, who would do all my paperwork?"
"Exactly." Shiro nodded seriously. "So you better make sure we come out of this thing on top."
"We will, Shiro." Percy repeated himself. "We will."
Percy knew. Even holding back, even concealing his powers, he could win. Semblances, aura, and army or no, Percy had been through worse. Conquered worse.
He wasn't about to fall now.
"Another briefing?" Harriet groaned, sinking into her seat and kicking off the floor to send her spinning idly.
"Yes." Clover answered bluntly. "This is the most important mission of the most important battle of the largest war Atlas has seen since the Great War — since before our grandparents were born. It's important that every one of us here knows the plan backwards and forwards." he explained patiently.
Harriet sighed explosively towards the ceiling, leg dipping down to propel her spinning faster. "Yeah, yeah. I get it, but I paid attention the first three times. This is the fourth this week. Can't we test out or-"
Harriet stopped speaking suddenly as the tell-tale hiss of the door sliding open echoed through the room. Stopping herself with the same foot which had been pushing off the floor she rushed to her feet along with the rest of them.
Winter did, too, though she was hardly as rushed to do so as Harriet was.
"TENCH-HUT"
The call to attention was unnecessary. The Ace-Ops had been waiting for General Ironwood's arrival, and knew who would be stepping through the door before it had fully opened. They all stood at perfect attention as General Ironwood entered the room.
"At ease." he told them all, his face as bereft of emotion as it had been since they'd set off. The dark bags under his eyes rivaled her own. Winter spread her feet to shoulder width and slid her arms from her sides to clasp behind her back in a practiced motion as the sound of her squadmates doing the same filled the room. "Take your seats."
With the rest of her squad, Winter uncrossed her arms and sat back down. She turned her attention to the center of the projector table where she knew the plan would be explained once more, but her mind was anything but present. It was hard to concentrate on the plan she'd already heard thrice when the day she'd have to decide for good was only drawing closer. Every time she thought she'd made a decision, something happened to send her spiraling into doubt again. Mantle's council members being arrested, apparent plots to attack population centers by the White Fang, arrests of people from Mantle who were living on Atlas, border checkpoints, apparent proof that Percy was running a child trafficking ring throughout Remnant — it was information overload. And the worst part was that the Mantle articles she was sent would never talk bad about Percy and would constantly talk about all the bad Atlas had done while the Atlesian media wasn't covering apparent injustices by the government, and said only negative things about Percy.
Some of it, she knew, was just false. On both accounts. An article she got from Mantle apparently revealed a deep conspiracy between the Schnee family and Atlesian military to oppress Mantle and justify invading Mistral at the same time, which Winter knew firsthand was nothing but a fabrication considering she was, in that same article, accused of being the main perpetrator of said plan.
And yet the next day a news reel from Atlas had shown 'proof' that Percy had ordered the White Fang to blow up the Schnee manor, but failed. Winter knew the kind of access that Percy had had to the manor for years now, and knew very very well that if he'd wanted to do something even remotely like that, he could have. She also knew him well enough to know he'd never do something like that, if for no other reason than for her sake.
So here she was, stuck in a confined space for weeks on end with the only outside information she had access to being completely unreliable in completely opposite ways. The moment was slowly approaching that she'd have to be really, really sure where her loyalties lie, but it felt like she became less certain with every passing day.
But the one thing both sides were agreeing on was the part that made the least sense to her. Percy and Atlas — Schnee family included — were enemies. Not just enemies, they were hated rivals, which would take every action to undermine the other.
If that were true, why wasn't Jacques dead? Why wasn't Winter? Why wasn't the rest of her family? Why had Percy genuinely used his influence in Atlas to help Mantle instead of tear down Atlas? Why had he gotten someone like General Ironwood elected, who might oppose him, instead of someone who was in his pocket?
Time and again the only answer Winter was left with was that despite all the noise, what Winter had seen for the last four years was the truth. Percy was doing some shady business, and could even be considered a criminal, and maybe he'd dabbled with the White Fang on occasion, but he was doing what he thought was best, he hadn't truly betrayed everyone. Not enough to justify a war.
"Winter?"
Winter snapped back to reality to find herself the center of the room's attention, blood rushing to tinge her cheeks pink.
"Yes, sir?" Winter hastily replied, straightening her posture and doing her best to ignore Harriet's snickers. General Ironwood, however, wasn't as amused.
"There's a reason we go over this so many times, Specialist. It's important you pay thorough attention."
"Yes, sir. I understand, sir."
Ironwood's eyes softened momentarily, and he gave her a single nod. Her exhaustion must have been as evident as his was, and it only took a quick glance towards Clover and Tortuga to confirm that they were sending her concerned looks. They — and General Ironwood — probably thought she was thinking about Percy. And technically, they were right. But while Winter guessed they thought she was still in shock or the equivalent of mourning, she was actually tearing herself up over whether to betray everyone she currently sat in a room with or the man they were planning to kill.
"Continuing." Ironwood resumed, and Winter made sure her focus didn't slip this time. "After you've landed you'll be working to ascertain Perseus' location. If one of our intelligence operatives find him first, you'll be heading to engage and remove the forces protecting him." he said, pointing to where Winter knew the plan called for them to land near the peak of the mountain.
"This will prevent the intervention of any unforeseen semblances or dust use. Included in this is any hard light shields which might prevent a bombardment of his position. If there are any delays or difficulties with isolating the target, I'll personally be landing with an entire company of knights to support. Once the protection detail and any deterrents have been dealt with, you're to engage the target until Specialist Ebi deems there's a risk to one or more members of the team. Potentially, this will be immediately after any protection has been eliminated. When Specialist Ebi gives the signal you're to fall back to a minimum holding distance of two hundred and fifty meters, or five hundred meters vertically. Keep in mind that we suspect he'll be on their top level, so if he were to be in the direct center of the peak you'd have to hug the edges to be outside of the exclusion zone." he narrated as a red sphere expanded from the projection of the peak of Mistral's tallest mountain to illustrate the exclusion zone. Winter tried not to think about how much history and culture was currently enveloped in that sphere, or how many innocent people would be caught within it. That the bulk of Haven as well as Mistral's ruling class was within that same sphere was, according to General Ironwood when Winter had pointed it out, irrelevant.
"Then, the main guns of the flagship — which will have been on standby until then — will be directed to fire at the target location. It's important to keep in mind that the exclusion zone accounts only for shrapnel, explosive force, and potential inaccuracy due to the varying angles and distances of our cannons. It does not account for any loss of structural integrity of the mountain, falling rocks, sliding cliff faces, or collapsing buildings. Stay on your toes, you might need to adjust your position to stay safe. Staying near the target is priority number two. Keeping safe from the fallout of the bombardment is priority one. We don't calculate any real chance the target will be able to withstand the bombardment, so most of your job will be shutting down any defenses and engaging the target before bombardment is ordered. Afterwards, it's just confirming the kill and cleaning up. Once we've confirmed Perseus has been killed — or captured — our fleet will withdraw and we'll negotiate with whomever assumes control of Mistral's forces. Any questions?"
The room was silent. They'd been over the basics backwards and forwards several times now — they were all crystal clear on the plan.
"Actually." Tortuga raised her hand, "If Perseus is Percy Jackson, he sold us our airships and Knights in the first place, right? Are we sure there's not some sort of back door to make our turrets and automatons turn on us when the battle begins?"
Ironwood nodded confidently, "We're certain. We've been doing spot checks since we first started buying them as a security measure, and have never had a problem. Just to be sure I've had every spare tech in the fleet double and triple checking every bit of software we have. We're very far from being able to verify every Knight's programming or every airship's computer, but we've found nothing in what we have checked, which means the odds of any random backdoor slipping through even one system is low. Our confidence will only increase over the next week as we head south and the techs have more time to go over these things, but we're as close to certain as we can possibly be right now. Our staff officers think Perseus knew we'd check for suspicious programming, and didn't want to risk trying to slide something past us. I'm inclined to agree."
Tortuga nodded once slowly, apparently satisfied with his answer.
"Thank you for the question." Ironwood nodded her way again. "Now, since yesterday our intelligence has uncovered some new info, so listen up."
They all adjusted in their seats, perking up. All of them had been paying attention — they were professionals — but there was only so many times you could hear the same information and remain alert.
"There is a new set of objectives." he revealed, and the projector in the middle of the room changed to illustrate. It rotated to the bottom of Mistral's mountain, highlighting a series of blue blocks within the mountain itself that Winter thought might vaguely represent rooms. "For some time now we've known there were military operations occurring inside of Mistral's mountain. Access to different branches of this complex has been tightly controlled in the past, but because of the preparations for our fleet's arrival their security has been less effective, allowing our intelligence services unprecedented access. Here's what you need to know;" he said, tapping a button on the table and causing several points throughout what was apparently the base to be highlighted red, green, and yellow. "Our layout of the complex as a whole is inaccurate and vague right now; that has been made priority number one for our intel operatives on the ground, and will improve in the coming days, so don't worry about stumbling around blind. These highlighted points are points of interest. The seven yellow POIs provide power for not only the entire complex but also, near as we can tell, all of the city's defenses. The two green POIs are essentially combat information centers — CICs — which coordinate communication between their forces. The red POI," Ironwood pointed to the single red dot, higher and deeper into the mountain than any of the others. "is the main control hub for the facility. We've yet to gain access, but we know from the CICs that this room has override authority on all automated defenses, power systems, and military communications. Unfortunately, there's a catch. First, access to different sectors is locked behind different authorization codes, meaning if you only have one access code you can only shut down one or two power centers, a handful of defenses, and, if the authorization is high enough, one CIC. This is something we're still working on." he admitted. "But if all goes to plan you'll have everything you need before the operation starts. Specialist Ebi, I believe you wanted to brief them on the next part?"
Clover nodded, standing from his chair and facing the room. "General Ironwood and I briefly spoke this morning about how best to approach this. We decided the power centers aren't viable, mostly because of the caution necessary to disable them combined with their quantity. They're redundant, meaning we'd need to shut down half the things before we even start to put a dent in Mistral's defenses. The CICs, on the other hand, would only hinder Mistral's ground forces. Because nearly all of our forces are in the air, this is a secondary priority. So, that leaves the main control room. It'll be difficult to get into and even harder to disable entirely, but if we can, we could end the battle right then and there. Without support from the static defenses, Mistral's ground forces will be obliterated before they can so much as engage us. Even if we can only get access to a handful of defenses it'll pay dividends. Any questions so far?"
Elm briefly raised her hand. "How do we balance this objective with Perseus? Are we all to head to infiltrate the compound once we've confirmed kill or capture? Because that might take a while."
"I was just getting to that," Clover acknowledged. "We believe all that'll be needed is a two person strike force to make their way to the command center. Capturing Perseus takes priority. We also have no reason to believe that any huntsmen will be defending the area, so even one specialist should be able to make it there safely. Two is to be safe, three would be overkill. They'll also have two squads of specialists running decoy at the entrance to the base's main hangar bay, but past those they'll be alone. This two person strike-force will land with the others but detach when we fall back to the exclusion zone. From there they'll head to the bottom of the mountain and begin making their way to the command center. Like General Ironwood said, if all goes well they should have the necessary codes before we even set off. As far as personnel goes, the two I've decided to send on the strike force are Tortuga and Winter."
Winter tried to hide her wince, but didn't do very well if the apologetic look Clover sent her was any indication. It wasn't hard to guess why she had been put on the strike force instead of on the team being sent to confirm Perseus' death, and Winter wasn't sure if she was glad or upset at the decision.
"That's all the information we have for now." Ironwood picked up. "There will be more information in the coming days, but until then you're dismissed."
Winter joined the rest of her squad in standing and saluting the General before filing out of the room, leaving Clover and General Ironwood to speak alone.
Now, Winter knew, things had changed. Instead of fighting against Percy, she was tasked with fighting him, and then Mistral itself on top of it.
She just wished that made it any easier to decide.
A haunting cacophony of alarms blared throughout Mistral at the crack of dawn, echoing between the great pillars of rock that made up the city and waking tens of millions. Soldiers hastily leaped from their beds and rushed to their stations, while families huddled around the television for news. Bullheads took to the air as Valean news and Mistrali intelligence both scrambled to get as accurate a picture of the situation as possible, and thousands peered out of their mountainside homes in an attempt to do the same. Trains full of volunteers from the countryside — rolling into the city even at such an early hour — shifted under the weight of the masses inside scrambling to get a view out the north facing windows.
Percy stood with Shiro outside the capitol building, binoculars in his right hand and scroll in his left.
"I take it that's our queue?" his scroll asked sarcastically.
Giving up on seeing anything for now, Percy pulled down the binoculars and handed them to Shiro for a moment. He looked down at his scroll where both Cinder and the commissioner of Mantle greeted him, though the commissioner was seated… significantly behind her. In addition towards the back corner of the frame Percy noticed a mountain of a man leaning against the wall, and just to Cinder's right was the giant's opposite — a thin man with a bushy mustache who looked like he'd be at home in a steampunk film. The allies that Cinder had promised him she had, no doubt.
Accepting the binoculars back from Shiro, Percy peered through them once more.
"Yes." Percy told her. "It is. You can start."
"With pleasure." the words rolled off of Cinder's tongue like melted chocolate, and for once Percy didn't doubt her sincerity.
As his scroll clicked shut, Percy took a moment to observe the tiny grouping of specks he could see through the binoculars in the early morning light. It only confirmed what he'd been told seconds before.
They were here. Atlas' fleet had arrived.
The Battle of Mistral had begun.
Hey everyone! Sorry I've been gone so long. Long story short, I knew I'd be very busy starting at the beginning of September so I set aside a week to write ahead, and then I got Covid. I'm fine, but it certainly did a number on me for a while there. Thanks to my man BurntLiquid for cancelling at my request so I could go back to 2 a month and keep up. Sorry for all the delays recently, life been hectic. Hopefully after this hiatus I should be set to keep my schedule from now on :)
Hope you all enjoyed, and hope the extra extra long chapter makes up for the wait somewhat.
Next chapter September 30
