SAPR

by Scipio Smith

Atlesian Orders (New)

Atlesian Orders

Lieutenant Colonel Olive Harper, officer commanding the Fourth Squadron, looked young for her rank, never mind her position. She was young for both, but all of her superiors up until this point had given her glowing recommendations — Thornmane in particular had clearly thought the world of her — and she had earned praise from the Mistralians — not always easy — during a tour of duty in and around Anima, not to mention her actions around Crystal City.

And she had friends in high places. Councillor Sleet was a strong advocate for her, even if Ironwood wasn’t entirely sure why. Still, when it came to the approval of promotions, having a Councillor on your side was never a bad thing and — combined with her having shown that she’d earned it — had been more than sufficient to carry Olive Harper up the ladder to the rank of lieutenant colonel. And then, in a lucky break for her, Colonel Barrow had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, requiring him to fly to Atlas immediately for treatment. And so, as senior officer, Olive Harper was now in command of an entire squadron: four cruisers, a carrier, a battalion of infantry and their support Paladins, not to mention fighters, bombers, and support vessels.

Ironwood would have worried about some officers thrust into that position, but Harper had shown that she was willing to grab responsibility with both hands.

She was a woman of medium height, who looked her youth — not quite so young as Schnee, but not much older — not least in the way that she dressed. She wore gold hoop earrings in both her ears like some kind of pirate, while she wore her uniform jacket without sleeves — she hadn’t torn them off; rather, they had been removed by her tailor, with blue lines marking where they ought to have been — in the kind of move that spoke, if not to the vanity of youth, then at least to the surety that you could reveal what you liked without putting people off by what they saw there. That said, a lot of her arms were covered by black arm warmers, and chunky metallic vambraces with blue lines running down the middle of them protected her upper arms, just as a pair of small metal pauldrons sat on her shoulders like epaulettes.

Her eyes were olive green, and she wore her black hair short, extending down just past her ears at the back, with straight bangs sweeping across her forehead.

Beneath her waist was not revealed by the hologram of her that was currently being projected above Ironwood’s desk as she frowned too small eyebrows at him.

“You want me to refuse the right flank of my battalion, sir?” she asked. “Where we meet the Valish?”

“That’s correct,” Ironwood said. He stood in his office aboard the Valiant, hands clasped behind his back. “Continue to maintain contact with the Patch Light Infantry, but I want you to refuse your flank back behind them so that—” so that if the Valish turn on us, you won’t be taken in the flank or rear “—so that if the grimm attack and break through the Valish line, you won’t be left with your flank hanging in the air by them breaking.”

The frown remained on Harper’s face. “Do you think they’ll break, sir?”

“They’re not us, Harper,” Ironwood reminded her. “I’m not saying that means they will break; I’m just saying that we can’t rely on them to hold their position as if they were an Atlesian battalion.”

“I suppose not, sir, but,” Harper paused, “if you want me to refuse back while still covering the same frontage, that’s a thinner line; that’s less firepower that can be turned to help support the Valish. Rather than making plans in case the Valish infantry can’t hold their ground, shouldn’t we be trying to support them so that they can hold?”

You’d be absolutely right, if the Valish holding was what we were worried about, Ironwood thought. But he couldn’t tell Harper that his real concern was that the Valish would start shooting at them, because things like that had a habit of getting out; suspicion would breed like a fungus, and then they would run the risk that the Atlesian forces, not the Valish, might start the shooting.

“That’s why I want you to position one of your ships over the flank, in position to offer supporting fire to the Valish if necessary,” Ironwood said, not mentioning the fact that this would also enable the ship to fire down upon the Valish in the worst case scenario. “But I still want to take precautions, just in case.”

“Understood, sir,” Harper said. “And stand to the troops?”

“They don’t all need to spend all night on the firing line,” Ironwood said, “but I want increased sentries, and all personnel are to be ready for action.” He had already issued orders throughout the fleet cancelling all leaves and ordering everyone back to their ships or units. “All airships fuelled up, all weapons ready; I don’t want to be caught napping when the grimm attack.”

“Don’t you mean if the grimm attack, sir?”

Ironwood sighed. “Look at the numbers of them out there, Harper; do you think it’s if or when?”

“We might get lucky, and they’ll hold off until we’ve gone home, sir,” Harper suggested.

“Because they’re frightened of us?”

“They should be, sir,” Harper replied.

Ironwood smiled, but nevertheless said, “Don’t get overconfident, Harper.”

“No, sir,” Harper said. “But I’d like to think I know my own worth, and I know how much my men and women are worth as well.”

“So do I, Harper, so do I,” Ironwood assured her. “But if I might give you some more advice?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Deploy your artillery now,” Ironwood said. “It will give you one less thing to worry about when the battle begins.”

“Understood, sir,” Harper said. “I’ll be sorry to miss tomorrow’s matches. Or is it today’s matches now?”

“Yes, yes, they’re today’s matches,” Ironwood said. “It’s been a long night.”

“I’m still sorry I won’t be able to watch them,” Harper said. “So will the squadron.”

“I’ll record them for you all,” Ironwood said. “That’ll be all for now, Harper.”

Harper saluted. “Sir.”

Her image disappeared, leaving Ironwood alone in his office for a moment.

Aware that a moment might be all he had before Schnee and the Ace Ops arrived, Ironwood unclasped his hands from behind him and leaned upon his desk.

He bowed his head.

The fact that he even had to consider how he would respond if the Valish turned on them.

If they were driven to turn on them; he had to remember that it would not be their doing. If it were their doing, that wouldn’t make it any easier to bear, but it might make it easier to blow their meagre air power out of the sky before raining down fire upon their ground troops from above.

But it was not their doing, not their fault; they were being … coerced, controlled; Ironwood didn’t know enough about this damn siren, this thing that had gotten into the heads or the hearts of the people and the soldiers of Vale; he didn’t know enough about it to know how he ought to describe what she had done or was doing.

What he knew enough to understand was that in the eighty years since the Great War, the forces of two kingdoms had never come to blows, there had been no shots fired between them.

And now, that might change.

Ironwood did not fear the judgement of history — he wasn’t afraid to have his name written as the officer commanding at ground zero when the shots were fired — but he was afraid of, or afraid for, those who would perish if those shots were fired.

Those who would perish to no avail, for nothing at all.

Would there be a more pointless waste of life than this?

And yet, because of one person, one creature, one thing, it might come to pass.

And his best plan to prevent that, without simply slaughtering the Valish forces … it hung by a somewhat slender thread. There was no guarantee that General Blackthorn would surrender, or that his forces would obey his order to surrender if they were under some kind of magical influence.

But short of battle in the skies above Vale, and in the streets of Vale, and in the fields before Vale, short of fighting the Valish with everything they had at the same time as they were trying to fight the grimm, it was the best he could do.

There was a quick beep to alert him before the voice of Schnee floated up from his desk. “Sir, I’m outside with Ebi and his team.”

Ironwood straightened up and, once more, clasped his hands behind his back. “Thank you, Schnee. You may enter.”

“Yes, sir,” Schnee said as the door into Ironwood’s office opened.

The booted feet of Schnee and the five members of Ebi’s team echoed a little upon the metallic floor as they trooped into the office, forming a line facing Ironwood’s desk. Schnee and Ebi were at the centre of the line, Schnee on the right and Ebi on the left.

Clover Ebi, leader of the squad, was not the tallest man in the unit — that honour went to Zeki — but he was a tall man, with the kind of movie-star good looks that made him seem more like a propaganda image of a soldier than the real thing. His shoulders were broad, but not overly so; his arms were muscular, but not too muscular. His jaw was square, but clean-shaven, and his brown hair was cut short and styled so as to stick upwards just a little bit. His eyes, of course, were blue. He wore a sleeveless white vest — like Harper, and like some of his squadmates, Ebi had the courage of youth to show off those arms of his — with blue accents on the side and the top button undone to reveal the red interior lining. A red bandana was tied around his left arm, while fingerless gloves covered his hands. His pants were white, and his boots were black with blue laces.

Elm Ederne stood on his right, looming over him by a couple of inches; she wasn’t even the tallest member of the unit, but she was definitely the broadest in the shoulder and in the arms; she looked like she’d been carved out of the wood that she was named for, such was the impression of solidity that she exuded as she stood at attention. She wore a short mess jacket — very short, all things considered — white, with blue side panels, that stopped several inches short of her waist and was worn open and unbuttoned, exposing the grey body armour that she wore underneath. One sleeve was missing — but only one — and solid metal vambraces surrounded her lower arms. She wore a thin red sash around her waist, and red laces on her blue open-toed boots.

Vine Zeki anchored the line on the right flank. He was the tallest member of the squad, although there was only an inch in it between him and Ederne, and exceedingly thin to go along with it, a slender rapier of a man with a complexion that was paper white and a face that was all angles, a sharp chin and high cheekbones. He had several blue dots tattooed on his face, moving in a straight line upwards from his cheek, culminating in a third eye set in the middle of his forehead. His hair was shaved so short that he was practically bald, but what could be seen of it was grey. With the best will in the world, nobody would be putting him on any propaganda posters. He wore a long tailcoat, white with blue side panels and blue sleeves, worn open to reveal the two necklaces of grey beads that hung from his neck across his chest — prayer beads, Ironwood believed; he knew that Zeki belonged to some sort of Mistralian mystery cult, but he didn’t have the details; if he had, it wouldn’t have been much of a mystery, would it? — but unlike Ebi, and indeed Ederne, his pants were blue instead of white, with high, steel-toecapped boots that came up past his knees. He wore two broad sashes, one around his waist and the other across his chest from shoulder to thigh, covering most of the jacket as it went. On his right wrist, he wore more beads, three loose-hanging bracelets in total, while on his left, a pair of solid silver bangles hung.

Harriet Bree stood on Schnee’s left, with the difference in height between them being so severe that it seemed almost as though there was a gap in the formation. She was practically bald, with just two tufts of pale blonde hair sticking up with wings over the centre of her forehead, and a narrow strip of dark brown hair running down the centre of her head apart from that. Her eyes were magenta, set in a round face of dark complexion. She wore a dark blue t-shirt with a red neckerchief, and over it, a short-sleeved white vest with blue side panels matching the blue lines down the outsides of her pants. While the other members of the squad did not have their weapons with them, Bree was wearing hers, the harness of her Fast Knuckles strapped across her chest, ready to deploy from her back to her arms at any moment.

Tortuga Castellon anchored the left flank, a burly figure but not quite so much so as Ederne, with dark green scales — he was a tortoise faunus — mottling his skin, visible mostly on his face and his left arm, his most visible features. His neck was hidden beneath the thick — tidy and well-groomed, but long and thick nonetheless — black beard, flecked with grey, that fell from his neck to cover half his chest, while his blue jacket had its white right sleeve to cover up that arm, leaving only the left visible. A pair of black fingerless gloves covered his hands, while a red pocket handkerchief jutted up out of the breast pocket of his jacket. His hair was black, tied in a queue behind his head, and like his beard, it was starting to show a little grey in it.

“Reporting as ordered, sir,” Ebi said.

“At ease,” Ironwood said.

Six feet slammed into the deck in unison, the sound reverberating off the walls of the office.

“I know it’s late,” Ironwood said. “Rest assured, I wouldn’t be keeping you from your bunks if it weren’t important.” He turned away, looking out of the window. Vale was spread out before him, illuminated by a vast array of lights, some blinking, others still. So many lights, such a vast city. Possibly a battleground, if their enemies had their way.

“What I am about to tell you does not leave this room,” he said, “under pain of court martial. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Schnee said, her voice inflected with the slightest hint of curiosity.

Ironwood turned back to them. “As you may be aware,” he said, “Beacon’s Team Sapphire, with support from our own Team Rosepetal, managed to capture a prisoner tonight, the wanted criminal Cinder Fall.”

“Yes, sir,” Ebi said. He didn’t mention what else had happened tonight. None of them did.

“She had some disturbing intelligence to share,” Ironwood went on. “According to Miss Fall…” He paused. “The Valish high command has been compromised and may become hostile.”

Castellon bit back a curse, while Ederne exclaimed, “What?” Ebi’s eyebrows rose, while Schnee frowned. Bree’s hands clenched into fists. Only Zeki seemed unmoved by what he had just heard.

“'Compromised,' sir?” Ebi asked. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that they may attempt to engage us in battle,” Ironwood said.

Ederne whistled.

“Permission to speak, sir?” Bree asked.

“Go ahead, Bree,” Ironwood said.

“How sure are we of this intel, sir?” asked Bree. “How do we know we aren’t being fed a bunch of bull just to make us jump at shadows?”

“We don’t,” Ironwood said bluntly. “Which is why I’m telling you this in private, on pain of court martial; I don’t want to give the fleet a case of itchy trigger fingers towards what are still our allies. But I also don’t want to be caught with our pants down if the intel turns out to be correct.”

“What are our orders, sir?” asked Schnee.

Ironwood unclasped his hands from behind his back, getting out his scroll and placing it on his desk. A holographic image appeared over said desk, between Ironwood on the one hand and his personnel on the other.

The image showed a large building, in the brutalist concrete style, with four tall, almost monolithic towers rising above the lower sections that connected them. Atop each tower was set a large, double-barrelled anti-air gun. The centre of the structure was hollow, an open square like the courtyard of an old castle — and just like a castle, there were very few windows in the concrete. Although roads ran along all four sides of the structure, there were concrete barricades set up at the corners of the roads to make approaching by car an impossibility past a certain point.

“This is the command headquarters of the Valish Defence Force,” Ironwood explained. “It’s where their Department of Defence staff are based, and it’s where, in the event of an attack on Vale, the high command will issue their orders from. In the event of hostilities, I want you to descend upon the command centre, take General Blackthorn and his senior officers prisoner, and compel him to order his troops to surrender and stand down.” He paused. “I’m aware that this isn’t an easy assignment. I’m telling you this now so that you have time to consider your approach.”

“Any reason we can’t just level the place from the air, sir?” asked Ederne.

“Two reasons,” Ironwood said, “the first being that the command centre isn’t in the building; it’s in a bunker underneath it; we could level the whole building, and they’d still be alright in there, and they’d be harder to get to. The second reason is that I don’t want them dead; I want them to order their forces to surrender before we have to turn Vale into a battlefield. Just because the Valish officers are about to do something stupid doesn’t mean the soldiers should have to suffer the consequences.”

Ebi nodded. “Is it just us, sir, or—?”

“Additional support is possible,” Ironwood said, “but the grimm outside the walls remain our primary concern, and the Valish forces will be shooting at us at the same time, so resources will be tight. What’s on your mind?”

“An airstrike to take out those turrets would be a good start, sir,” Ebi observed.

Ironwood nodded. “That should be doable. Anything else?”

Ebi glanced towards Bree. “Harriet, any thoughts?”

Bree frowned. “Do we have schematics on the bunker, sir? Location relative to the building, access points?”

“Unfortunately not,” Ironwood replied. “I know it exists, but the Valish haven’t shared the details.”

“I wonder why,” muttered Castellon.

“That’ll slow us down,” Bree said. She paused. “If they are planning to turn on us, then they’ll be set up to defend their base, but on the assumption that their defences will be facing outwards, our best bet would be to insert aerially into the centre courtyard and gain entry into the building and then the bunker from there.”

“If we had another squad,” Schnee began. Then it was her turn to pause for a moment, cupping her chin with one hand. “Sir, if we have the manpower for it, I’ll lead a squad in a diversionary attack against the exterior of the headquarters, pinning down the defenders and allowing Ebi’s unit to enter from the courtyard while the defenders are distracted.”

“Specialists or Military Huntsmen?”

“Specialists would be ideal, sir,” Schnee replied. “And some knights, to add to the impression of a serious offensive effort.”

“And two squads of Military Huntsmen,” Bree added.

“'Two squads'?” Ederne asked.

Harriet nodded. “Two Skyrays filled with military huntsmen; one squad led by Clover, with Tortuga and me, the other with Elm and Vine. As soon as the air defences are down and Schnee’s squad has engaged the enemy, we drop into the courtyard, then split up. Clover goes west, Elm and Vine go east, we each look for a way down into the bunker while continuing to split the defending forces.”

“You did hear what I said about resources being tight?” asked Ironwood

“Yes sir,” Bree said. “And if it’s too much, then we can cut our cloth. But it’s the best plan that I can come up with, in view of our lack of intel.”

“If we could be certain of what you’d be up against in there, then we could be certain of whether this was necessary,” Ironwood muttered. He looked at the hologram. “What are your thoughts on Bree’s plan, Ebi?”

“I’ve learned to trust Harriet’s judgement, sir,” Ebi said. “If she thinks that this is our best option, then I’m inclined to agree with her.” He took a breath. “However, in light of our circumstances, I think that we could manage this by ourselves, inserting—”

“You can have two mixed squads, each with two military huntsmen and six marines,” Ironwood said. “I can’t spare that many military huntsmen, but we won’t need the marines on Valiant; we shouldn’t, anyway.” He turned his attention to Schnee. “You can have one squad of specialists; you can choose them yourself, but don’t tell them about this until it becomes necessary. As far as anyone outside of this room knows, this was a plan that you came up with on the fly in the face of an unexpected emergency, understood?”

“Perfectly, sir,” Zeki said.

“No one will breathe a word of it, sir,” Ebi said.

“Sir,” said Schnee. “If I may, what are the Valish thinking of? There are grimm outside the walls, and they’re planning to attack us?”

“I wish I knew, Schnee,” Ironwood said. “I wish I could say for certain that the Valish were acting rationally. I’m not sure that that’s true.”

“Anger does make people act irrationally,” Zeki observed, “and a great deal of anger has been whipped up against us in the streets of Vale.”

“Quite,” Ironwood said. It was not entirely what he’d meant, but he’d take it anyway. “Remember, try and avoid Valish casualties if you can; it’s not their fault they’re being led down this path. But, at the same time, the mission comes first.”

“Of course, sir,” Ebi said. “You can rely on us.”

“I’m sure I can,” Ironwood said. “Everyone is going to be on standby for the next few days, due to the threat of the grimm attack, so you won’t be alone in that, but stay sharp. That’s all, dismissed, get some sleep.”

“Yes, sir!” Ebi said as all six specialists came to attention, feet slamming down upon the floor.

Ebi and Schnee saluted, which Ironwood returned, before they turned to leave, trooping out of his office as they had entered it.

Only Schnee lingered, remaining behind when all the others had gone.

“Something on your mind, Schnee?” Ironwood asked, as the door into the office closed with Schnee still on his side of it.

Schnee hesitated for a moment. “Permission … to ask two questions, sir?”

Ironwood nodded. “Granted.”

“Compromised by who, sir?” asked Schnee.

“Hmm?”

“You said that the Valish high command had been compromised,” Schnee reminded him. “But you didn’t say by who?”

Ironwood turned away from her, moving towards the window once again. “I would like to tell you everything, Schnee,” he said. “And I will. Just not tonight. Focus on the mission for now. Answers will come later.”

“I see, sir,” Schnee murmured.

“Does that answer your other question as well?” asked Ironwood.

“No, sir,” Schnee replied. “My other question … are you going to be getting some sleep yourself?”

Ironwood chuckled. “Soon, Schnee, yes. Not immediately, but soon.”

“I see,” Schnee murmured. “Goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight, Schnee,” Ironwood replied.

He heard the door open, and he saw Schnee’s reflection in the window disappear, swallowed by the closing of the door again.

Ironwood remained at the window, looking out across the city. How many people, he wondered, in that city down below, were aware of the situation they were in? How many knew about the grimm, about the likelihood of a new attack on Vale? How good a job had the tournament done in distracting all of them?

How little had the First Councillor decided to tell them? How many secrets had he decided to keep in the public interest?

Could they get through this without the people finding out?

Probably not, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t worth trying.

Ironwood walked back to his desk and sat down in his seat. As he had told Schnee, he was going to go to bed, but not quite yet. He had a couple more calls to make first.

He pushed a button on his desk, connecting him to the Valiant’s CIC. “Hodgson, put me through to Mistralian Polemarch Yeoh; voice only.”

“Aye, sir,” Hodgson said. Des Voeux’s watch had ended by now; Hodgson was his replacement on the comms. “Patching you through … assuming that she’s still awake to take calls, sir. There may not be a reply.”

“I’m aware, Hodgson,” Ironwood said. If she is asleep, she might be smarter than I am. “But I need you to try anyway.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Hodgson said.

There was a moment of silence; that moment was followed by another, and another, silence stretching out as there was no reply from Polemarch Yeoh. Ironwood was about to accept that she had turned in and give it up for the night, to try again tomorrow, when there was an answer, the voice of Polemarch Yeoh rising up from his desk to waft into the office.

“General Ironwood,” she said, with a slight trace of a yawn in her voice. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you at such an hour.”

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” Ironwood said.

“No, although you should have,” Yeoh replied. “I was toasting our successes with some of the other officers. In the tournament, I mean.”

“Yes, I gathered that,” Ironwood said. “Are two students through to the final round really worth toasting?”

“Three students, General, please,” Yeoh said, a hint of reproach entering her tone.

Ironwood chuckled. “Very well, three students. I’m sure you’re very proud.”

“As are you, I’m sure, for all that you have not been so successful,” Yeoh said.

Ironwood didn’t bother to respond to that. “I’m sorry to have dragged you away from your drink of choice,” he said, “but I’m afraid that this isn’t a social call.”

“Somehow, I thought it wouldn’t be,” Yeoh said. “Does this have anything to do with the capture of that rogue Cinder Fall by Pyrrha Nikos and her teammates — and some of your students were present as well, I believe, congratulations.”

“I have to admit that Team Sapphire did most of the work,” Ironwood said. “But yes, this is related.”

“Does it have to do with the accusations made against Sunset Shimmer?” asked Yeoh. “You don’t believe them, I hope?”

Ironwood raised his eyebrows, for all that he knew that the Polemarch couldn’t see the gesture. “You’re convinced of her innocence? Do you know Miss Shimmer?”

“No, I don’t,” Yeoh said. “And in truth, I don’t know that she didn’t do this thing that she is accused of. But what I do know is that Lady Nikos entrusted that girl with Soteria, the black sword of the Kommenos champions, a blade to which the Nikos family now has undeniable right, now that Lady Kommenos is dead. Sunset Shimmer is the bearer of the sword not only in the physical possession of the blade but also in having received it from the hand of she who had the unquestionable right to bestow it on her.”

“I hope you’ll forgive me when I say that I’m afraid I’ll never fully understand Mistralians,” Ironwood murmured.

“You Atlesians, on the other hand, are so simple to comprehend,” Yeoh said, leaving Ironwood with the distinct feeling that he’d just been insulted, “but my point is that the bearer of Soteria could never do anything dishonourable.”

“Because only someone incapable of dishonour would be given the sword?” Ironwood asked. “Or because the act of carrying the sword renders her every action honourable by default?”

“The sword will not serve one who is unworthy of it,” Yeoh said.

“I see,” Ironwood murmured. He didn’t, actually, but he felt that further discussion upon the point was unlikely to bring him any enlightenment so he was prepared to move on to the matter at hand. “As it happens, that isn’t why I’m calling you. I’m calling you because Cinder Fall was interrogated tonight, and she suggested…” He trailed off.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to spit it out, General, if you want my assistance,” Yeoh said after a moment's silence. “I can’t help you based on my guess of what you might say.”

“She suggested that the Valish senior officers had been compromised,” Ironwood said, “and that they might turn hostile towards my forces.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. “That … is quite an accusation to make,” Yeoh said. “Did she offer any proof?”

“What proof could she have offered?” Ironwood asked.

“A letter?” Yeoh suggested. “An incriminating note? A deleted email, retrieved from a server, perhaps?”

Ironwood could not help but chuckle lightly. “No such luck, I’m afraid.”

“And yet, you don’t discount the possibility that she’s telling the truth,” Yeoh said. “If you did, you wouldn’t be calling me.”

“I know that you’ve also noticed General Blackthorn’s … strange behaviour lately,” Ironwood said. “With regards to the grimm, amongst other things.”

“I half think that a man who was planning to stab you in the back might be a little less obvious about it,” Yeoh observed. “But, yes, I have noticed. And I did promise you my assistance, didn’t I? Although in the event of a conflict between yourself and the Valish, I’m not sure my forces would be needed to tip the scales.”

“Don’t worry,” Ironwood said, “I’m not asking you to fight the Valish Defence Forces; but if their troops pull back from their position on the front lines, if they abandon their posts, can you bring your troops in to plug the gap? Or, even if the Valish attempt to hold their ground, can you at least stand by as a reserve? I’m afraid they might not have the inclination or the ability to bring up fresh troops if the Red Line comes under pressure.”

Yeoh sighed. “And to think, I thought this might be something of a vacation,” she whispered. “My men are very green, General, and if I was going to blood them, I would hope to do it in calmer circumstances than facing a grimm horde.”

“You have my sympathies,” Ironwood said, “but the circumstances have been chosen for us; we can’t back out just because we don’t like it.”

“Well, I could sail away,” Yeoh said. “I still have the ships for it.”

Ironwood was very still, for all the good that stillness would do him on a voice-only call. “Are you telling me that this is goodbye?”

“No, General Ironwood, fear not,” Yeoh said. “If I were to flee back to Mistral with my tail between my legs, especially abandoning the Haven students, I would be humiliated back home, and deservedly so. No, as you say, the circumstances have been set for us; all we can do is navigate the waters as best we can. But, as I say, my troops are green in more ways than just their uniforms, and my ship — that I have still not handed over to the Valish — is…”

“Old?” Ironwood suggested.

“A flying bucket,” Yeoh said. “If we are forced to occupy the Valish line, or even reinforce it, I will need fire support from your airships.”

“And you’ll get it,” Ironwood said. “You have my word on that.”

“And the word of an Atlesian officer is his bond,” said Yeoh. “Very well, General Ironwood, although I’m sure you won’t mind me saying that I hope you’re wrong about this.”

“Believe me, Polemarch Yeoh, I hope I’m wrong about this too,” Ironwood replied. “But thank you; I might be able to put some of my men on the line alongside yours, but … thank you. It’s good to know that there’s someone out here that I don’t have to worry about.”

“Instead you’ve given me something to worry about,” Yeoh muttered.

“My apologies,” Ironwood said. “I’ll let you go now, and give you no more additional problems.”

“Thank you, General; unfortunately, I seem to have lost my appetite for further toasting,” Yeoh said. “I’m sure that, if or when the shooting starts, we will speak again. Until then, good night. Yeoh out.”

Ironwood leaned back in his chair.

That’s one less thing to worry about.

But not the last thing to worry about.

He had left … had he left the most difficult conversation for last?

Luna.

The very idea, the fact that they knew who she was, and what she was.

The fact that Leo had told them.

I always knew he didn’t deserve her.

But then, thinking like that had been what got him into trouble with Luna in the first place.

Even so, if he had had Leo in his office right now, then what he’d do to him would have been no one’s business.

He found his hands had clenched just thinking about him. Putting Luna in danger, putting Twilight in danger, putting everyone in danger, how could … how?

At least Sunset Shimmer had been trying to save other people’s lives and not her own.

It didn’t excuse what she’d done, but it did make it a little less thoroughly despicable than Leo’s treachery.

If he was a traitor; Ironwood supposed that he should concede that it might be another lie from Cinder Fall; concede it, he begrudgingly did. But if Qrow reached Mistral and found that Leo was the traitor in their ranks … unfortunately, it wouldn’t surprise him.

Apart from anything else, there weren’t that many people who knew who all the Maidens were.

At least we found out now, rather than when Salem started to move on Atlas.

That was the comfort in this situation; Salem might know that Luna was the Winter Maiden, but she wasn’t coming for her now, although she might have more people at her disposal than they had thought — that reminded him; Ozpin had forgotten to ask Cinder Fall about the virus she’d tried to plant in the CCT; Ironwood himself was curious as to who had designed it; it was also a reminder to himself to speak to Lulamoon and Glimmer about Shadow tomorrow morning, first thing — she still didn’t have the numbers to try for Vale and Atlas at once. She would finish her business in Vale first, or try to, and only then would she try for Mistral or Atlas or Vacuo. They still had time.

Luna still had time.

Ironwood picked up his scroll from off the desk — the hologram of Valish headquarters had been there all this time, ever since Schnee and Ebi and the others had left; it only disappeared as he took up his scroll in his hand — and found Luna’s number.

He didn’t speak to her very often. There wasn’t a lot to say anymore.

Nevertheless, he was confident that she would still be up as she gave the picture of her face a little tap with one finger.

It was another voice only call. He probably wasn’t a great sight to see at the moment.

He was rewarded with a very swift answer, so fast that it was almost immediate.

“James,” Luna said. “What are you doing calling me so late? You woke me.”

“Did I?” Ironwood asked sceptically. “A night owl like you?”

“Can you not conceive that it might be possible that I’ve changed in the time since we were intimately acquainted?” asked Luna, in a prickly tone.

“Have you?” inquired Ironwood.

There was a pause. “No,” Luna admitted. “But I might have. And, perhaps more to the point, while I was a night owl, while I suppose I have to admit that I still am a night owl, you never were.” Concern entered her voice. “James, what are you doing up so late?” Concern departed her voice as swiftly as it had entered it. “You aren’t picking up all of Ozpin’s bad habits, are you? You’re not the old man; you need rest.”

“And you don’t?”

“I can turn moonlight into energy; it’s my semblance,” Luna declared.

“No,” Ironwood said, “it isn’t.”

“Well, if you’re going to be pedantic about it,” Luna said airily. “What is it, James? I know you wouldn’t be calling me if it wasn’t important.”

Ironwood wished that he didn’t have to tell her. He wished that they could have just talked for longer — about the tournament, about Canterlot, about … anything at all. But she was right; he did have something important to discuss with her, something that she needed to know. “I’ve got bad news, Luna. I need you to pack your bags and come to Atlas; Canterlot isn’t safe for you anymore. Salem knows that you’re the Winter Maiden.”

“She … how?” Luna asked.

“We aren’t certain yet, but she knows the identities of all the Maidens, and … their locations,” Ironwood said. One of the reasons why the list of potential traitors in their ranks was so small was that the four Maidens were not privy to the identities of their fellow Maidens, only the headmasters and their lieutenants — where they had them — knew that. Given that two of the current four Maidens had found the pressure of the job too much for them, that seemed like a wise decision on Ozpin’s part. “They know who you are, and they know where you are; you need to move.”

“How do you know this?” Luna asked. “How do you know they know?”

“We captured one of Salem’s operatives tonight; she confessed … she confessed.”

“And you believe her?”

“I don’t believe every word that came out of her mouth, but I believe this,” Ironwood said. “She had details about the Maidens that were accurate, and that she could only have gotten from an informant—”

“Did she name this informant?”

“We don’t know that he—”

“He?” Luna asked. “It can’t be Ozpin, and if you were the mole, you wouldn’t be calling me, so is it Theodore or Leo?”

“We don’t know for certain that it’s either of them,” Ironwood said.

“But you believe … it’s Leo, isn’t it?” Luna asked, her voice soft.

Ironwood closed his eyes. “How did you guess?”

“Because if it were Theodore, you wouldn’t be dancing around it so much,” Luna said. “But because it was Leo, you felt that you shouldn’t tell me.”

“As I’m saying, we don’t know—”

“Who else could it be?” Luna demanded. “Who else would know?”

“Theodore?” Ironwood suggested. “The naming of Leo could be misdirection.”

“But you don’t think so,” Luna said.

“No,” Ironwood said. “No, I don’t. There is other evidence against Leo besides the word of this one captive.”

“I see,” Luna whispered.

Ironwood leaned forwards, for all the good it did. “It’s not your fault, Luna.”

“I know perfectly well that it isn’t my fault; it’s his fault!” Luna exclaimed. “I just … I thought that we had left things on better terms than for him to sell me out to Salem.”

“I don’t think it was anything personal,” Ironwood said.

“Then why?” Luna demanded. “Why would … why, James? Answer me that, why? Why would he do something like this?”

“Apparently, it was to save himself,” Ironwood said. “I’m told he’s lost hope.”

Luna sighed. “I see. Well, that … that is disappointing, isn’t it? What will become of him?”

“Ozpin has sent Qrow to Mistral,” Ironwood said. “To get to the truth and … take care of it, if necessary.”

“Of course,” Luna murmured. “And … who will be the new headmaster of Haven?”

“Glynda, perhaps,” Ironwood said. “Although she was reluctant, she eventually agreed to take the job.”

“She will do well there, I think,” Luna said softly. “Although you might have put in a good word for Celestia or myself.”

“You?” Ironwood cried. “Luna, didn’t you hear what I said, your location has been compromised, you can’t stay in Canterlot anymore—”

“Yes, James, I heard you perfectly well,” Luna said. “And…” — she sighed once more — “as much as it pains me, as much as I would like to sit here and tell you point blank that I’m not leaving, that I like it here, that I’m needed here—”

“You know that if you stay—”

“Yes, I know that if I stay, then I put the children in danger!” Luna snapped. “That’s why I said that that was what I would like to say! If you’re going to call me up in the middle of the night to uproot me from my life and drag me into some box in Atlas, then kindly allow me to be a little bit annoyed about it!”

Ironwood didn’t say anything for a few seconds. When he did speak, he was quiet, “Of course. I know that this isn’t ideal.”

“I don’t want to be alone, James,” Luna said. “I don’t want to put the children in danger, I obviously don’t want them to be caught in the crossfire, but … this school, the children, Celestia … it’s my life. I don’t want to be alone.”

“You won’t be alone; you’ll be in Atlas,” Ironwood told her.

“Doing what?” Luna demanded. “Hiding?”

“I was going to put you in command of a ship,” Ironwood said. “Ozpin didn’t like the idea.”

There was a moment of silence from Luna. “Really?”

“Why not?” Ironwood asked. “Don’t you think you could handle it?”

“I’d like to think I could,” Luna said. “But Ozpin does not?”

“He’s worried you’ll die in a crash,” Ironwood said.

“Old worrywart,” Luna grumbled. “So it is to be a black box then, a small room and occasional visits from you?”

“How about a classroom instead?” suggested Ironwood, as an idea struck him.

Another pause from Luna, before she said, “A classroom?”

“You have the experience for it,” Ironwood said. “And classrooms don’t crash.”

“Not usually,” Luna murmured dryly. “But … a classroom? At Atlas Academy?”

“Not a remarkable step, for a teacher at a combat school,” Ironwood said. “Nobody will think it strange. In fact, it will raise a lot fewer eyebrows than command of a cruiser.”

“But what would I teach?” asked Luna. “There are no vacancies at Atlas, and if you fire a perfectly good teacher—”

“Actually, I was thinking of adding a subject to the curriculum,” Ironwood said. “One that … doesn’t always get the exposure that it perhaps should: Nightmares. I mean, aside from being a huntress and a Maiden, you’re also a trained nightmare hunter. I wonder where you find the time.”

“Very droll, James.”

“I’m being serious about the class,” Ironwood said. “You could teach the students about nightmares: how they hunt, who they’re attracted to, what to do if you think someone has been infected by a nightmare; and, of course, how to deal with them.”

“It’s niche,” Luna warned him.

“So is theology, but you can still get a doctorate in it,” Ironwood pointed out. “Nightmares exist, they’re a threat, and there’s a credible case to be made that people — or at least, future huntsmen and huntresses — should be better informed about them than they are. It’s a case I can make when it comes to getting you on the staff.”

From Luna’s tone, Ironwood guessed that she was smiling as she said, “You’ve thought this through.”

“Actually, it just came to me,” Ironwood said.

“Then I commend you on your improvisational skills,” Luna said. “You … you would really do this? You would create a whole new subject just for me?”

Ironwood leaned back in his chair once more. “One of my students taught me something this year, Luna, or rather, they reminded me of something that I knew to be true in the abstract, but … people aren’t meant to live in cages. Even if we say it’s for the greater good, they … that still doesn’t give us the right to confine them. I don’t want to … I want to be a better man than that.”

“You are.”

“I wasn’t,” Ironwood said. “Not to her.”

“Past tense?” Luna asked. “Is she—?”

“Transferring,” Ironwood said. “She’s free. I can’t set you free, Luna, the burden that you carry doesn’t allow for that, but that doesn’t mean I have to confine you. I know this isn’t what you sought—”

“But it may … it will … it will do,” Luna said, before he could finish. “It does not change the fact that it will be a wrench to leave … but it will do. Thank you, James, thank you with … thank you.”

Comments

[AngelicTitan]

So Ironwood is making the preparations for the worst case scenario, and has grown as a person enough from his experience with Penny to not confine Luna to a lonely room. I’m proud of you, Tin Man.
It’s interesting to see how the Rewrite changed a lot of circumstances around the Fall; Atlas and Mistral are in better terms than in the OG, enough that they will support each other, but in exchange, Atlas and Vale are the ones at one step away from conflict because of our dear Siren. I think that after the Fall Winter may be brought forth to the Salem knowledge.
Also, we are finally away from the longest night of all time, lmao! It seems it is already the day of the Fall, and so I am anxious to see what will happen next. (Hopefully we will go back to the Main Plot instead of passing so much time on the building blocks for the Fall)

[Mastermind4892]

Well maneuvered, James. Your students have changed you for the better, and I truly hope I this change will weather the storm that is to come.

[Stet709]

“The sword will not serve one who is unworthy of it,” Yeoh said.

I mean, it is the sword of the retainer of the House of Nikos, so Sunset did her duty according to what she was asked to do by keeping Pyrrha alive and Lady Nikos will agree.

If Luna is potentially moving to Atlas, that could change things slightly when Sunset comes to Canterlot from Equestria again.

[Kiue Jin]

Granted, I feel like Ironwood could have said something along the lines of "Cinder claims that they had an agent whose semblance was the manipulation of emotions and minds and that said agent had infiltrated the Valish army. We don't know the extent of their abilities, but we believe that the General and his command staff have been compromised at the least."

[RanmaChaos]

This was a good chapter. Nice to see Ironwood grow.

[Luviere]

God i love Ironwood as a character. In the show he was one of the best, untill they FUCKED him up in season 6 and 7. Ironwood deserved better.

[Kiue Jin]

The Vale defense policy.