Chapter 26

Only a battle lost can match the sadness of a battle won.

Jaune wasn't sure where the saying had come from or how much it had changed over the years, being repeated and misunderstood over and over, but it didn't feel as applicable as he expected it once had. The battlefield was bereft of bodies and the sounds of the dying. There were no moaning people reaching out for aid or bodies face down in the mud as he and Weiss picked their way southward. There was no blood, no flies, no lifeless eyes. Warfare had advanced beyond that. Any faunus who had died had presumably been torn to shreds or incinerated by ordinance, their ashes scattering on the wind. Aside from a pocked and pitted wasteland that had probably once been a beautiful landscape, there was little to show the terrible loss of life.

Killing had become impersonal, it felt, and he wondered if that wouldn't make killing feel even easier for those doing it. If they didn't have to see the bodies, see the lives lost, see the hopeless expressions of the dead and dying. Instead, they could just bomb people from a distance and think of them as numbers.

Those old war movies had lied – or they were outdated. Weiss and he picked their way around craters and trenches, the horse making it slower by hesitating and tugging at the reins whenever a loud sound echoed behind them. There were no faunus to challenge them, most having pushed past before to assault Atlas' lines and close out the battle. On that side, there would be more blood and gore, or so Jaune imagined. Close combat with melee and guns would throw bodies about and leaving them strewn across the trenches. It was a relief to not be on the receiving end of it.

Though Weiss, being Atlesian, obviously had it far worse. Her eyes were locked ahead, little more than pale blue pinpricks as she did her best to not hear or think about what was happening behind her, where her countrymen were being slaughtered. Nor did she want to think of what was ahead, a land occupied by Menagerie. Jaune wasn't keen on what was ahead either, though it was less Menagerie and more the girl from Vale – Belladonna. Apparent general of the army and daughter of the master of the Black Ribbon Sect, who hated his own for reasons he still didn't understand. It'd be helpful if she'd tell me what we did wrong before trying to kill me, he thought. Even more helpful if she didn't notice him at all.

"How are we going to get by them?" Weiss asked. "They'll recognise me for sure."

"I don't know."

"You don't know? You have to know! What's your plan? Surely, you have some idea?"

"I wish I did. Raven didn't give me much time to think." He looked back to the ridge but she was no longer there. That didn't mean she'd given up. "I think she's still following us."

Weiss gaped at him. "Still? Through a battlefield!?"

"No. Under and around it. Menagerie's forces will advance now that they've won here. It wouldn't surprise me if Raven and hers use that as a chance to slip by, not only to chase us but to not get swept up in the conflict."

Given they were deserters and bandits, he didn't imagine Menagerie would welcome them. They had supply lines the same as Atlas and wouldn't appreciate them being raided by a bunch of bandits. However, if those bandits came with information about him and Weiss, someone like Blake Belladonna might decide that reason enough to give them a free pass. The two of them would make for a far greater prize.

Ahead, a small selection of tents slowly became visible, their dark-green fabric poking up out the top of a small trench complex with netting and foliage interwoven through it. Menagerie didn't make use of trench warfare as much as Atlas did from what he'd seen and heard, but there would obviously be exceptions. Medical bunkers to keep the wounded out the line of fire, command centres, supply caches. There was still a need to keep all of those sheltered from bombardment and bombing runs, and a sufficiently deep trench or foxhole would provide shelter from anything other than a direct hit.

The system stretched for a good distance, worryingly, with tents dotted up and down it. That was likely just to make sure there was always somewhere close by to take the wounded or resupply, no matter where along the line someone needed it, but it meant there'd be no easy way to slip around and by the trenches. They would need to go down, through and up the other side. Maybe that was better. They'd only stand out more if they were acting shifty. Hopefully, enough of the faunus would be busy reporting on their victory or taking an active part in it that they could get by unmolested.

"Keep your hood up," he cautioned. "And tuck your hair into your clothing. In fact, let's take care of that right now." Jaune stooped and picked up a handful of mud, then held it out to her. With an irritated sigh, Weiss took it and began to smear it across her uniform. The white of the Schnee matched the white of Atlas a little too much. "It's a shame there's no blood we can add to make you look wounded. There aren't many bodies at all."

"About the only thing that works on the faunus is explosives, the greater the ordinance the higher the chance of success. Gunfire only staggers them unless you have enough to shred through their aura."

A lovely image. "Don't Atlas use aura as well?"

"Of course. Officers and huntsmen – former or future – use it. In fact, we unlock it en masse for every soldier. The problem is it takes so long to learn. They practice an hour every day in bootcamp and are encouraged to do more in their spare time, but it's not easy. If it was, we wouldn't need huntsman academies as everyone on Remnant would be using it."

If it were easy, Ansel wouldn't have fallen. Jaune grunted, forced to accept the words even if he didn't like them. Master Ren might have decried the teachings of the academies but even Jaune had taken a long time to truly learn to use aura – over six months to get it down to an acceptable level. At that stage, he wouldn't have trusted himself to stand in front of a machinegun and come out alive a hundred rounds later.

"How long is bootcamp?"

"Three months." Weiss bit her lip. "Or at least it used to be, back when the war started. It was cut to two months a while back and they were talking about a one month intensive course followed by active duty in a less hostile zone when I was dispatched."

A month to figure out how to use aura. No wonder they couldn't do it. "It makes you wonder how long Menagerie has been planning this."

"Years. It must have been years. For every single one of them to be capable of using aura at a level required to fight a war with it, there can be no other answer. That's the benefit of starting a war," she spat. "You get to decide what time is best for you."

/-/

It was two very different figures who approached the trenches. Weiss had drawn a cloth up over her lower face to hide it and had stuffed mud under her hood to mould the vaguest shape of triangular ears through the material. Her clothing was stained black and brown, mottled and patched as if she'd been thrown off her feet by an explosion. She moved with a limp. Not enough of one to draw concern or need help, but enough to explain why she was being helped back and not taking the fight to Atlas.

Jaune had caked his own blue robes as well, afraid someone might recognise it as the Lotus Sect. He'd drawn his cloak around him and pinned Adam's crest to the left breast. Unlike Weiss, he didn't have fake ears, but it wasn't impossible for there to be a tail under his cloak. He held onto her horse's reins with one hand and helped her down wooden planks stamped into the trench wall like a ladder with his other. The horse struggled its way down a ramp more likely meant for vehicles than animals.

The trench was in better condition than he imagined it would be. Few bodies again, but he could just about hear moaning from what he assumed was injured troops in a medical tent nearby. There was a thin layer of soil and muck thrown over everything by nearby artillery that had torn up the ground, but much of the heavier chunks had been caught in the netting above the trench. The floor of the trench was wet, but not sinking, as someone had thrown down sawdust and woodchips to absorb water. There were boxes and crates stacked up like steps on the side facing Atlas, allowing for a sudden charge. Ammunition, clothing, bandages and dust labelled the creates. Weiss couldn't take her eyes off them.

"No." Jaune tugged her along and away. "We're not here to fight Atlas's war."

"But if we sabotage them—"

"Not our job."

"Not your job, maybe; I'm from Atlas."

"Not right now you're not." It was no secret technique that let him drag her away but good old fashioned strength. Weiss cursed and yanked on her arm but he was much too strong. Not to mention he had over a foot on her in height. "Don't be an idiot. This battle is lost and any damage you might cause will be recouped with what they steal from Atlas' trenches. That's the biggest benefit of winning via a melee charge over an artillery barrage, I imagine. You haven't blown up all their supplies."

Weiss slumped and gave up, suggesting he was on the mark. If Atlas had anything in their favour, it was their wealth and manufacturing power. They would be incredibly well equipped, for all that it meant so little right now. The faunus would be winning more than just the field today. They'd be capturing vehicles, guns, medical supplies and more dust than they knew what to do with. Not to mention all the dust they could siphon from the artillery that they just didn't bother using in their own army.

A few faunus moved past them, heads low, clutching bandaged arms. They mumbled words to them, and Jaune replied in mind, voice quiet and soft. There was no reason for them to assume the two people in their trench weren't a part of their army, and the wounded had their own brushes with death to keep their thoughts busy. It wouldn't be long before they were out.

"Hey!" a voice shouted. "You two, with the horse!"

Weiss froze and tugged her scarf up her face. Jaune flinched as well, but he forced himself to turn quickly and without hesitation. It was a man who had shouted out, and there was a suited officer of some sort atop the trench, on the opposite side to Atlas. He had a foot up on the lip of the trench and a patch over one eye. On seeing them looking, the man huffed.

"Is he injured?"

"She," Jaune corrected. "And yes, but not severely. I was going to get her leg bandaged. Do you need me, sir?"

"Need your horse – and you as well if you're in a state to lift. We need to start packing up our supplies so we can advance. General Belladonna wants us ready to advance the lines within the week."

"A week, sir? Isn't that a little slow?"

The faunus laughed. "A week for supplies to advance, friend. The men will be holding a new line by the end of tonight, but they're going to be cold and hungry. Our job is to make sure our heroes have all the food and supplies they need."

"I guess they'll be dining on Atlas delicacies tonight."

"Too right!" the faunus boomed, and a few behind him, further down the ridge where Jaune hadn't noticed there were people, echoed his cheer. "I'd be up there with them if not for my bloody eye. Shrapnel," he added, touching it. "Bloody bad luck to be honest. Strike didn't even hit near, but one bloody pebble shot off and managed to find me as I peeked my head over the trench. A clear lesson to keep your head down after an artillery strike, soldier."

Jaune considered saluting but decided against it. He hadn't actually seen the faunus salute one another, and their structure seemed less military and more comrades working together. "I'll take that lesson to heart," Jaune said. "My mother always said my eyes were my best feature. I'll be with you in a moment, sir. Can I just take her to medical and wrap this up?"

"You do what you need to but leave the horse with us."

Weiss tensed, but Jaune squeezed her arm and spoke. "Sure thing. Let me just take the saddlebags off. They'll only weigh her down otherwise." Jaune got to work, quickly unbuckling them. It wouldn't do for the faunus to check and find spare clothes branded with the Schnee snowflake. Or identification marking Weiss as from Atlas. "You'll take care of her, yeah? She's a precious one. It'd break my partner's heart if you got her hurt."

Another faunus came up and hopped down into the trench. Weiss flinched, but the second man approached the mare with a warm smile and patted her neck. "There, there," he cooed. "You're a beautiful one, aren't you? Help us out and I'll get you some sugar cubes, eh?"

"We don't use animals on the front lines," said the officer. "She'll be helping us pull supplies around but that's all. You can come collect her once we're done anyway. Just ask for Corvus Squad and someone will guide you to us. Get a move on, Fudge. Belladonna needs us."

"I'm coming. I'm coming. Poor girl is spooked is all." The faunus, Fudge, gently steered Weiss' mare away, and the horse followed – too well trained, or perhaps encouraged by the faunus' kind words. Jaune kept his smile, despite that Weiss was squeezing his arm with both hands and wringing them enough to bruise his skin.

She was one moment away from drawing her weapon and trying to kill them all.

"Come on." Jaune turned and forced her ahead of him. "Let's get your leg seen to."

Weiss managed to wait until the squad were out of sight before hissing, "If you think I'm leaving her—"

"We don't have a choice. Your horse will be safer here than she would be with us. I'm sorry, but they're not going to kill her or hurt her, while we'll be doing our best to stay hidden behind enemy lines. Being on horseback would make us targets." He could see that she knew it, but also that she didn't want to accept it. "Maybe we can come back for her later and find her," he offered. "But we can't for now. Take what you need from your saddlebags. Only what you can't do without."

"I know how this works!" she spat, kneeling and tearing into them. "I'm a huntress, but I've also been through bootcamp!"

He let that go. Weiss was worried and angry and took most of her anger out on her bags, tearing through supplies to take what she needed – a single set of clothes to change into, what money she could, and some papers and folders that he could only assume were too important to fall into enemy hands. Weiss then unbuckled several dust canisters and some spare ammunition for her rapier, along with a satchel of food, which she hooked into a loop and tossed over her shoulder.

"That'll do. The rest can be abandoned."

"Thank you. And I'm sorry—"

"If they hurt her, I'll kill them. That's a promise, Arc."

"I know. I don't think they will, though. They're fighting a war and she'll be useful for moving things about. They won't hurt her for no reason." Jaune nudged her in the direction of the medical tent. "Let's skirt by there and move beyond, then leave the trench and make a break for it. Belladonna is busy organising the advance of the supply lines and command tents by the sounds of it, so we won't get a better chance than this."

"Hm." Weiss nodded distractedly. "They're organised," she whispered. "More than we expected. I'll have to inform Winter once we reach safety. And how will we reach safety?"

"Mistral. Mistral is independent and left open. We loop around there, enter Mistral and then hand you off to the Atlas embassy there. Nice and easy."

It was a simple enough plan that Weiss accepted it with another nod. Both sides had to leave Mistral clear, and both sides would honour that for fear of Mistral joining the conflict on the other side. That made the city a convenient highway from one side to the other, though that'd change if Menagerie pushed so hard and so far that they overtook Mistral. Once that happened, and when the city lay solely behind their lines, Atlas would probably be forced to abandon their embassy and leave.

Hopefully, that hadn't happened.

/-/

"Belladonna."

Blake Belladonna turned away from the letter she'd just written, handing it off to a young, bright-eyed faunus who hurried out the tent. It would take a week to reach Adam, but the news would put a spring in his step. Another victory for Menagerie. It was just a shame they couldn't capitalise on it to push further. Overextending would be a blunder that would see their lines stretch and potentially buckle.

For all they had the edge, Atlas were still the more experienced in traditional warfare. If they made a mistake in terms of supply lines, logistics, or in advancing too far, Atlas would strike with military precision and cut them off, creating a pocket where their forces would be encircled and slaughtered. It was a lesson that had been drilled into her head, and one she was determined not to fall foul of. Atlas were the better army than them, but they had the better fighters. It was important they not forget the difference.

"Samson," Blake said, reacting to the one-eyed man. He had been in charge before she took over, and she personally felt he should still be in charge. She was a more motivating figure, apparently. "Good to see you're well."

"Congratulations on your victory, Belladonna."

"My victory?" she scoffed. "You're the one who proposed the plan. I just passed the orders on. This is your victory more than mine."

He chuckled. "Ours, then. Menagerie is bigger than either of us."

"And bigger than our egos," she agreed. "Did you find them, Samson?"

"Yes, ma'am. They matched Yuma's description, though they'd smeared shit all over themselves to try and hide it. The horse was a dead giveaway, though. Hard to hide that."

Blake nodded. Yuma had done well to not react aggressively to the unknown in the battlefield, and to feign ignorance. If he'd attacked, he might well have died, and then their forces wouldn't know about the odd duo. He'd done the right thing in faking trust and then making a report to Samson, and by extension to her.

"They weren't overly obvious but I spun some bullshit story about losing my eye in the battle and they didn't react to it."

"Telling. Everyone here knows you as Old One Eye. They're not ours, then."

"No. Course, our enemy here knows of me as well so they're not from the enemy lines. But that was obvious given they were so far out. Could be Mistralians," he allowed. "Could be deserters for all we know. I had the horse confiscated, so whoever they are they won't be making it far."

"You didn't think to challenge them?"

"They have aura if they made it through a battlefield unharmed, and they were close to our medial tents. Not to mention most of our strongest are off trouncing Atlas' line right now. I didn't think it worth causing a ruckus."

"No. Probably not. You have the right idea. Tempting as it is..." Blake trailed off and thumbed at her eye. The journey from Vale's southern coast to Mistral, and then around the southern coast to reach this area, had taken too much time, and she was exhausted.

"Blake," Samson said, not unkindly. "The war won't fall apart if you take a break."

"Our men aren't taking any breaks."

"Our men haven't traversed half the damned globe to get here."

"No, but they've left their homes. It's fine. I'm fine." A quick yawn threatened to undo her. "We have a week to move our lines up anyway, and Atlas will be scrambling to fortify new ones. That'll be time for me – for us – to rest. At least until Adam can push his lines up. Any news from Wukong?"

"We received a love letter last week."

Blake blushed and rolled her eyes. "Any pertinent news?"

"None, but that's to be expected. Besides, you know he's too tricky to get himself captured."

Too full of himself, more like. The man could hardly call himself a commander since he didn't command and just threw himself into danger. The troops loved him for it, and Blake didn't dislike the bravery or heroism, but what she did dislike was having to catch up with the forces he was supposed to be leading and take over because their commanding officer had decided it'd be fun to take a romp behind enemy lines.

He's too skilled to get angry at, though. One of our best – easily on par with me. And he gets results. Hard to argue with that.

"Absorb Wukong's company into your own, Samson. They can work alongside us until their general remembers he's meant to be giving them orders. I doubt they'll complain if it's you. I want you to take over here for a day or two as well."

"While you rest?"

"While I take a look at these interlopers of ours and make sure they're not a problem."

Samson frowned and Blake felt like a child caught by her father's gaze once more. "You need to rest, Blake. They won't make it far on foot, and we can get you a horse ready and saddled while you refresh yourself."

"Sooner done, sooner over..."

"Too soon and you'll pass out. And if they are problems then you'd better be at your strongest when you deal with them. They don't know we're onto them yet. They'll take it slow, careful. You have time to sleep."

Blake made to argue but a yawn broke through, forcing her to cover her mouth. Samson shot her a knowing look and she finally relented. "Fine. But you are taking over while I'm gone. It's frankly ridiculous I'm in charge when you've twice the experience as I."

"People need symbols, Blake. They need faith. I'm good, but I'm old and wounded and you're fresh. They look at you and remember stories of you taking down whole squads on your own. They think you invincible."

"No one's invincible, Samson."

"Best our boys think otherwise. We have this war for now, but Atlas is still a superpower and they have an industrial complex feeding them, not to mention allies in Vale. They can still swing this. If our morale falters."

"It won't. And Vale is scrambling to respond to my raids. That's why I came in such a hurry." And why she was so exhausted. "Vale is too afraid of an attack from us coming from the south. I've stationed ships there filled with scarecrows. They're set to sail there every few days, manned by skeleton crews. As far as Vale is concerned, an invasion of their soil could happen at any moment."

"Clever."

"Not really. If Vale had the guts to sail out and challenge us, they'd figure it out in a second. Luckily, they're content to hunker in their city like Mistral is and leave the southern half of their kingdom to rot. Cowards. According to our spies, they're not even defending villages and towns as they should be. The Grimm are running rampant."

"Not something to be proud of, lass. That's people dying because of us."

"I didn't say I was proud." Though she also hadn't said that she wasn't. Blake wouldn't celebrate the loss of life but she also wouldn't let it keep her up at night. "War is war, Samson. We knew there'd be loss once we started it, but it's what has to be done. Atlas could end this any day. All they need to do is accept our demands."

They both knew Atlas wouldn't. Not until faunus boots landed on Atlesian soil, and then the kingdom would panic as they realised their island fortress wasn't unassailable. Currently, Atlas saw the war as a distant thing. And all the suffering in Vale and Mistral was just foreign countries unable to look after themselves. In the end, Atlas only cared about Atlas. Soon, they'd find out what happened when Menagerie decided it could take no more.

But, for now, it was time to rest. Those two could have their head start. Blake was confident she would catch up to them before long.

Next Chapter: 11th February

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