Remnant - XVII

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Requested By : Gib

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Unlike Atlas, Mistral was a city of many, many layers. It had been built at the edge of a massive interior sea, around a towering mountain that itself rose up out of the curved embrace of dozens of large mountains stretching out leagues around it. The city clutched to that central mountain and stretched outward, crawling up every mountain around it in a barely-ordered mess. The old Kingdom had existed for over a thousand years in one form or another, and in those centuries, it had lived through a thousand ways of everything from construction to planning.

One section might be wide-avenued, with houses and work-places stacked one on top of the other and crushed back to back, while another might be filled with flowing road-ways lined by tall buildings spaced out more generously. Some buildings were not even separate buildings, weaving through the mountain they clung to and connecting underground. Either directly, as one building with a garden or pavilion between two outer halls, or through older mines. Or even caves, in some rare cases, he'd been told. Long, floating paths stretched out onto the lake, too, lined by warehouses, homes and work-houses that rolled with the gentle tide and capped at the end by fishermen's wharfs.

It was all so… Chaotic.

Entirely different from Atlas, and even Mantle, which were more ordered. Defensible and regulated.

"Don't judge, James." He chided himself as his transport turned and angled down, towards Haven Academy which clung to the side of one of the mountains. "Not your house. Don't mind the mess."

He'd been to the Academy before, many times in fact. It was smaller than Atlas' was, with a wide central courtyard ringed on all sides by four multi-story buildings of an older style, with thin walls and dark tiles. This adjoined the landing pad to one side, overlooking the distant lake, and the main hall to the other, which was nestled further up the mountain, right beside the gate and the tunnel that accessed it.

The door to his transport slid open and he stepped out onto the brick-work landing platform, flanked by a pair of black-armored soldiers.

"Ah, James." The old woman, short and wizened by age and the unkindness of it, murmured as she shuffled closer to him. She only carried her staff, and wore simple grey and black patterned robes, the kind favored by Mistralians, and a pair of heavy glasses. She offered a trembling hand and smiled, "I hope your flight went well?"

"It did." He nodded, taking her hand gently and giving it a simple, oh so gentle, squeeze. "It is good to see you, Headmistress Alexandria."

"My, how formal." She hummed, cocked her head to the side and asked, "I'm not going to enjoy this conversation, am I?"

"Honesty?"

"Always."

"No." He sighed, "No, you aren't."

"Ah, very well…" She turned without another word and began to make her way inside, until Ironwood began to follow and his guards in turned came after him. She paused, cocked her head and asked, "Are they really necessary?"

"Protocol dictates-"

"You're here to press Mistral's stake in the war, I'm certain." She cut him off coldly, "A bit of good faith would go a long way to that end."

"You don't even know what it is I'm here for." He argued quietly, less interested in arguing than he was in her motives.

"True, but I don't much care, either." She sighed and turned, looking back at him with a bright, green eye. "You're a decent man, Ironwood. Troubled, self-aggrandizing, yes. But a decent man. I can see it. So I trust whatever you're here for, you believe it's for the best. And won't insult us all by needing armed thugs following on your tail."

"They're soldiers." He argued hotly, "Not thugs."

"Oh, they're your black-boots." She said, using the old slang term for Mantle's secret police, from the Color Wars that had seen Mantle fall and Atlas rise. She turned away and sighed, after a moment, and added, "And regardless of your opinion, that's how we will all see them. Until the day we die."

"...Very well." He sighed, turning and grunted, "Guard the ship, and keep your comms open."

"Yes, General Ironwood." They echoed, sounding less than enthused by the prospect but obeying regardless.

Like good soldiers.

With that settled, she lead him on, into the Academy. When he'd come before, it had only been as an aide to a liaison who had come to Mistral to negotiate the initial construction of Argus. Then, they'd been lead to the Headmaster's office to speak to the Council by vid-line. It was somewhat laggy and limited, but far more convenient. It had been made secure by utilizing short-wave relays that bounced the signal around the Kingdom rather than a hard-line, so it couldn't simply be tapped - you needed the signal codes, and even then, the codes for that area in the relay network - but even so, he didn't trust it.

Not until he had his own assets monitoring it, at least.

But, when he entered the Headmaster's office, he didn't find it empty, as he had expected. Instead, a man nearer to his age than not was sitting comfortably on the couch that wrapped along the left wall of the room. He sipped lacily at a cup of what smelled like coffee while he leafed through a magazine. He wore a black jacket and slacks, with a silver shirt under it that matched his hair, and had a cane laid against the couch beside him.

"Ozpin." Alexandria said as she shuffled over to join him, easing onto the couch and accepting the mug he offered her without taking his eyes off his magazine. As he retrieved his own mug, she said, "I brought the new General, like you asked."

"So I see." He hummed, flicking the magazine closed and then pitching it onto the small table with expert aim only a Hunstman could display. Ironwood flinched, hand hovering over his hips, his gun and the alert-signal that would call his men both, and the stranger smiled, "Come now. Is that really necessary?"

"A stranger surprising me?" He chuckled darkly, "I'd be an absolute fool not to be ready to defend myself."

"Oh, that, too." His smile was pleasant as he leaned back, "But I meant calling your men."

"My men?"

"You only have a gun on one hip, but your hands both drifted back." Ozpin explained simply, "There's not a bulge there, like your holstered gun, so it must be something else. An alert signal of some sort makes the most sense."

"Smart…"

"Clever." Ozpin corrected him easily, "Clever enough to know that a frontal confrontation wouldn't kill you. You have your Aura, your training, soldiers to back you up- If I wanted you dead, there are a million ways I would do it, none of which involve you in a room with me."

"Name three."

"First, I would see to sabotaging your ship here and now, while you conduct yourself in Mistral." He said, "Your soldiers are problems, but I could circumvent them with proper planning. A team, perhaps. Or, more likely, distraction. Lure them away, do my work."

"I would also consider hiring brigands and Grimm." He added quickly, pausing to steal a long sip of his coffee before going on, "Stage some sort of riot in the city to lure the Grimm close, then get them in your flight-path. Bring your craft down that way. Kill you or trap you. Do I still need a third theoretical tactic for your take-down? Or are you satisfied by the five minutes of me not attacking you?"

"I'm not." He answered honestly, crossing his arms, "But, for now, I'll... Trust this. Alexandria?"

"Hm?"

"I'm not meeting with the Council." He said, "Am I?"

"You are." She countered, "Tomorrow, one o'clock. Today, though, you're meeting someone more… More."

"More?"

"More." Ozpin confirmed, smile falling away, "Much, much more. But much that you need to know. If, that is, you are to protect your home."

"Atlas?"

"In part." Ozpin nodded and then, when Ironwood's brows furrowed, he added, "In time. For now… Tell me, what is your favorite fairy tale?"

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If he had learned anything from his long existence, it was that if you allowed yourself to repeat your mistakes they would soon end all your repetition - permanently. `

He had observed this world, primitive, backwards, broken as it was, and concluded that simple science would overpower his enemies. Simple defensive turrets, a simple wall. An assumption, born out of a presumption that of course these primitives could not match even his most basic attempts at progress would suffice against them. Would hold back their tenacity and the hatred he knew to be at work here.

Arrogance…

He was better than that, surely.

Shockwave had let himself become comfortable, but did not do so now. As soon as the Grimm had been cleared out, he set his droids to work clearing wood and joined them, processing it. Lengths of log held up long rows of thick planks to form docks, Docks that, while he planned out the warehouses for the Faunus to drop their tools and supplies and where the housing would go, several small ships pulled up to.

But, it wasn't Ghira who stepped off the first boat.

"Sienna." He rumbled, standing up to his hips in brine while so that his chest was level with her head.

"Shockwave."

He observed the Faunus disembarking, carrying military backpacks with evidence of patches that had been ripped away and tools as he'd ordered and rumbled, "I see your hunting has gone well."

"Yours too, from what I hear."

"Not very." He answered, rumbling amusedly, "I caught the fish, but missed the whale, I'm afraid."

"You… Mean the new General of Atlas?" He turned his gaze onto the woman and nodded - as well as cataloging that the Admiral had indeed told him the full truth, then - and she shrugged, "You can't seriously want his head. He's a world away, and these Atlas types aren't the kind to risk their necks. That's why they have soldiers."

"I have dealt with similar before."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." He rumbled, "Many times, on many sides of many conflicts, and in so many ways."

"One of these days, Shockwave." She sighed, shaking her head and turning to watch the sea, "One of these days, I'm going to get a drink, you're going to… Get whatever passes for a drink for you-"

"I can synthesize Energon to a similar effect," he rumbled, "but I would rather not."

"-and you're just going to tell me a fuck ton of stories." She finished, ignoring him seemingly whole-sale. "And I mean in detail, too. Not the trimmed down story you gave us. I want details. I wanna know what the hell is out there."

"Why?"

"It brought you here." She said simply, "What if it sends something else?"

For a long moment, he was quiet. Considering. Then he asked, quietly, "You have been thinking about me."

"Don't get ahead of-"

"I meant that which I constitute, in both fact and potentiality." He explained with a sigh, drawing the woman's gaze back around to meet his own. Quietly, he went on, "I am an alien being, of metal rather than flesh. I came here by means you cannot know, and brought with me great technological power. So, understandably, you wonder, fear, even, what would come if I were to be… Followed."

"Yeah." She said, "That's… A bit of a scary thought."

"Understandably." He nodded, "I am quite impressive, after all."

"And humble…"

"That is not a virtue to which I lay claim, Sienna Khan." She snorted and he turned, raising his hand to gesture at the stretch of beach he had secured, where even now a handful of Insecticons were clearing swathes of land while Faunus grouped up further up the beach watched. "For now, I would suggest you put your mind at ease, and to task. Should I be followed, we will contend with that. But, for now, we have work."

"Mhm." She sighed and nodded, "Fine. You have watchtower locations surveyed?"

"I do, yes." He nodded, offering his hand to her and adding, when she looked from it to him confusedly, "We will make better time if we walk at my pace rather than yours. And we both have enough to do that time matters."

"...Fine." She sighed, stepping into his palm and grabbing onto his thumb as he lifted her to his shoulder. When she hopped onto it and sat, he turned and began to walk.

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"You're…" Ironwood blinked, "Insane. Absolutely, completely insane. Or-Or is this some strange manner of joke, Alexandria?"

"James…"

"No, Alexandria, this is madness." He grunted, standing from the couch and storming towards the door, where he paused and hesitated for a moment before turning back to them. "You can't be serious, or sane. Maidens? Gods, it's insane."

"We're quite sane and serious, General." Ozpin said, smiling almost… Amusedly. Like this was all funny to him, in that way a father would watch a child and smile all the while. Quietly, he went on, "Normally, I would observe you for some time before reaching out to you. To get to know you, your patterns. But here and now, well…"

"The war."

"The war." Ozpin confirmed his guess and nodded, "It needs to end, Ironwood."

"I'm working on that."

"You misunderstand-"

"I also don't care." He snapped, pointing down at the ground and snapping, "Unless you have proof to show me right now, I don't see a reason to believe either of you. Or to humor your insanity anymore for that matter."

"Very well then." Ozpin - if that was even his real name - said as he rose. Ironwood watched him carefully and the man sighed, "You want proof? Then allow me to lead you to it. Alex, the foyer is empty, yes?"

"It is." She hummed, "I knew James well enough to expect you'd show it to him."

"Good." He nodded, striding across the room and slipping past Ironwood.

He paid Alexandria a shocked look, but she only shrugged and waved for him to follow the other man. She didn't get up herself, though. Instead, she made a slow show of pouring herself some more tea and taking a long, purposeful sip from her cup. And then she turned to stare him down, eyebrows raised meaningfully. After a second he growled and turned to stalk after the wiry, silver-haired man.

Ozpin was waiting for him outside the door, on a raised platform that overlooked the open, empty foyer. A statue of an ancient hero knelt on top of a small dais, kneeling and bowing her head, long hair falling around her armored figure and eyes locked on the heavy wooden door to the Headmaster's office. Ozpin stared at it for a long moment, and then sighed.

"Beautiful work." He said, cocking his head ever so slightly to regard Ironwood standing behind him. "Isn't it?"

"It is." It was marble, with heavy bronze armor covering most of her body and painted on eyes that looked so nearly alive. Her weapon was iron, ended by a leaf-shaped steel blade said to be one of the first forged, and the very same the woman herself had carried, but her shield was mere bronze. He leaned forward to read the plaque quietly, "Laska the Tide-Caller, greatest Admiral of Mistral's founding."

"That she was." Ozpin sighed, turning and reaching up to wrap his hands around the head of the spear and squeezing until red ran down from its tip and along its haft. Ironwood scowled and yanked him away by the arm, but the man only held his hands up and smiled, hands flashing bright green as they healed. Then he pointed and said, "Watch."

A moment passed before, suddenly, the blood seemed to be consumed by the spear. It flowed into it, seeping in unnaturally and dying the spear-head crimson. Then her hair did the same and, suddenly, the statue's eyes moved. Ironwood flinched away as her head turned, regarding them both, but Ozpin stepped forward confidently.

"Laskarina." He said, "I would like to visit the the Vault, if you don't mind."

Laskarina did not speak, but she did not, returning to her position without a word as the red began to fade away from her once more. Then the floor shifted and Ironwood gasped as it descended, bound by thick, dust-covered ropes that looked decades or more old. And, thick or not, they didn't look nearly sturdy enough at their best to hold up the stone slab that they were standing on.

As it descended, a strange sort of… Energy washed over him, like electricity on his skin and running up his spine.

As he looked on the massive gate built on top of the impossible rock formation in the underground cave, covered in grass and flowers that couldn't possibly bloom without light, Ironwood was… Stunned.

"So." Ozpin started, standing on the platform and turning to meet his shocked gaze with a smile, "I trust the living statue, healing charm and the magical gate are enough? Or shall I chuck a fireball?"

"No…" Ironwood murmured, "That… That won't be needed."

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