So after much indolence, lack of time, and writer's block, here is Chapter 4. I sincerely apologize for the length of time it took for me to crank this out. To those of you who have stuck with me so far, thank you.

Special thanks to Lord Demolitions for providing the suggestions used in this chapter and for agreeing to be my editor.

The Ruling Council of Atlas serves as the kingdom's main system of governance. In its current form, the Council's main body consists of 18 seats. The governors of the fifteen districts of Atlas each hold one seat, the representatives of the main branches of the military (the Ground Forces and the Navy) hold two seats, and oneseat is held by the Headmaster of Atlas' Huntsman Academy. There are also various committees within the Council responsible for additional specific duties.

Despite the Council's large size, it is not unusual for councilors to have various roles or seats within the apparatus. For instance, as both a General in the Atlesian Ground Forces and Headmaster of Atlas Academy, James Ironwood holds both the Headmaster's seat and acts as the Representative of the Ground Forces. By a similar token, Wilhuff Tarkin, current governor of Eisschloss District, is also an important member of the Council's Armed Forces Committee, specifically the branch responsible for overseeing the kingdom's military capabilities.

Excerpt from a Military Intelligence report submitted to the Council of Vale concerning the Atlesian F-1 Nimbus Air Superiority Fighter

The craft is of an unorthodox design. Unlike the Bullhead or the Drachen-class dropship utilized by the Atlesian Ground Forces, it does not have a definite fuselage. Instead, the cockpit, which sports a distinctive domed windshield, and the two jet engines used to power the craft are built into an airfoil-like structure that comprises the fighter's center section.

Its control surfaces are equally bizarre, consisting of a pair of hexagonal panels each attached to the sides of the center section. The lower halves of the panels can be folded upwards to a horizontal configuration to allow the Nimbus to land on an airfield. Based on takeoff demonstrations conducted from a Victory-class destroyer, however, we can assume that the fighter is to be primarily deployed from airships.

Approximately 8 hours earlier...

September 27th, 80 AGW
0732 hours
Beacon Academy
Dormitories
Team JNPR Room

Jaune leaned back in the chair at his desk as his stomach voiced its discontent, reminding its owner that he needed to treat himself to breakfast before his morning classes.

Just a little longer, he reminded himself as he heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.

Pyrrha had let him take the first shower upon their return to the room. Though he always tried to be a gentleman, Jaune had been reluctant to argue, considering how he'd been both utterly exhausted and drenched in sweat.

They had both gotten up at the crack of dawn for their daily workout, consisting of a run around the campus plus a visit to the school gym. It was back breaking work for Jaune, who was nowhere near as fit as Pyrrha, but he still gave it his all.

As his Uncle Max had once told him, a leader always exceeded the expectations he or she placed on his or her subordinates.

Jaune suddenly had an epiphany and facepalmed. He hadn't written anything to his Uncle since the start of term. He'd probably be worried sick, and it was never good to make a military officer worried.

He pulled up a blank message on his Scroll and began to type.

Dear Uncle Max,

Sorry for taking so long to write to you again. There's just been a lot on my hands lately. Most of the free time I have after class is taken up by schoolwork and training, so I haven't had much time to sit down and write. Apart from that, I've yet to find a date to the upcoming dance for the Vytal Festival. I tried asking someone, but she turned me down...again.

His guitar, a gift from his mother, lay next to his bed against the side of the room's communal bookshelf.

He let out a somber sigh. Why hadn't Weiss accepted him? Was he not acting cool enough? Maybe that was it. After all, Neptune seemed to have it under his belt, and it worked like a charm on the Ice Queen.

It's okay. I guess I just need to show more confidence. Mom always said that's what a girl looks for, right?

Dance troubles aside, I'm doing pretty well. Now I can actually survive Professor Goodwitch's sparring sessions, though I mainly have Pyrrha's training to thank for that.

He decided to leave out the whole fiasco involving Team CRDL blackmailing him. If worrying a military officer was a bad idea, it was an even worse idea to anger one, especially one in command of a crack army division.

Speaking of which, my teammates are all fine. Nora continues to be her bubbly, energetic, pancake-loving self. Though she's also proven to be both an excellent fighter and a great friend.

Ren is the complete opposite as far as personality goes. He's calm, stoic, and prefers the quiet. It's a wonder that he's paired up with someone as rambunctious as Nora. He, too, is a strong fighter and, while it may not be obvious at first sight, a very caring person.

Pyrrha, my own partner, may not be the reason I came to Beacon, but I'd argue she's the reason I'm still here. For someone who's apparently a celebrity, she's a very nice, patient, and gentle person. She's also smart, strong, quick on her feet and a quick thinker. In short: The perfect teammate.

"Jaune?"

"Ah!" he recoiled, dropping his Scroll and hitting the headboard of the chair with such force that both the chair and him ended up careening to the floor.

"I'm sorry!"

Once the ceiling stopped spinning, Jaune allowed his eyes to focus on the person standing above him.

Pyrrha had apparently finished her shower while he was in the middle of writing his letter. She'd also changed into her uniform and was currently gazing down at him with emerald eyes full of worry and an apologetic expression.

She extended a hand down to help him up, which Jaune gladly accepted.

"Are you alright?" Pyrrha asked once he was back on his feet.

"I'm okay. Just a little shaken up."

He replaced the chair before turning to meet his partner's stare.

"Ready to go eat?"

"Yes. Though if I might ask, what were you doing when I surprised you?"

"Writing a letter."

"To whom?"

"Ehhh, my Uncle Max," Jaune muttered lamely.

Pyrrha, for her part, didn't seem to mind.

"As much as I would like to hear more, Jaune, we must go and have breakfast. Why don't you tell me about him on the way?"

"Sure, I guess."

Jaune pocketed his Scroll before following Pyrrha out the door.

They began the long walk to the cafeteria, passing students who were also going about their routines.

"So?" the redhead prompted.

"Well, he's on my Mom's side of the family. They both come from Atlas, but they each followed different paths. Mom trained to become a Huntress while Uncle Max joined the military."

"So he's a soldier?"

"Technically, he's an officer. His son, Zev, who's also my cousin, is training to become one, too. His dad and granddad were also officers, so that kind of runs in his side of the family."

"Interesting."

"Yeah."

Jaune briefly wondered if having Atlesian family members would improve his chances with Weiss before resuming conversation.

"Believe it or not, he actually wanted me to follow him into the military at first."

Pyrrha's eyes widened slightly. Although she had confidence in her leader's abilities and potential, the thought of someone like him joining the Atlesian Military really seemed far-fetched.

Jaune seemed to have noticed her surprise, but continued regardless.

"I always overheard him arguing about it with my parents. He said that I was capable of being a leader just like him since it ran in our blood, but Mom and Dad said "No" 'cause they were afraid I wouldn't survive the Tarkin Treatment."

Pyrrha tilted her head inquisitively.

"What is the Tarkin Treatment? Does it have something to do with the Atlesian governor?"

"Yup, " Jaune answered. Part of him wondered how she knew of the man before chalking it up to one of the perks that came with fame.

"He was the one who devised it when he was in the Navy. From what Zev told me, the Tarkin Treatment involves trainees being dumped in the wilderness and being forced to survive on their own for several days."

"So it's similar to our initiation, except longer?"

"Sort of. You have to basically live off the land and use the surroundings to find food, water, and shelter. You're still allowed weapons, though, in case you come across any Grimm."

He paused to wave at Sun, who waved back while casually munching on a banana, and resumed his story once they'd passed the monkey Faunus.

"Uncle Max said the Treatment would help me learn to survive in any environment and give me an introduction to tactics. My parents, on the other hand, thought that it was too dangerous for me, and said that I needed to learn within the safety of schools and academies so that I could become a Huntsman like them."

"I take it your Uncle disagreed?"

Jaune nodded once more.

"He's never been too fond of Huntsmen and Huntresses for some reason. I've often heard him say some not-so-nice things about both them and Huntsman Academies in general. He also once said that their powers belonged in the military or something along those lines."

"That's a very weak argument," Pyrrha muttered with a frown.

"It gets even better," Jaune replied as they finally entered the cafeteria, "He was the one who pushed me to come here."

"Wait, what?" the redhead exclaimed.

They refrained from further discussion until they had both gotten their food, found a table, and were seated opposite of each other.

"That doesn't make sense," Pyrrha declared, careful to keep her voice down, "I thought you said he disliked Huntsmen. So why would he encourage you to become one?"

To her surprise, Jaune simply shrugged before muttering back an answer.

"I guess he decided that if I had no chance of joining the military, becoming a Huntsman was the next best way to become a leader like him, even if he didn't like them. Anyways, when I went to him and explained that my grades weren't good enough to get into Beacon and that my parents wouldn't let me try again, he told me to just go for it regardless, and that as long as I had the drive, I could make it."

"Your uncle must really care about you if he's willing to overlook his prejudices."

The blonde boy smiled fondly before taking a bite out of one of his slices of toast. He made sure to swallow before replying.

"He sure does. Or at the very least, he wants to see me do well. He used to tell me stories of war heroes and successful military leaders. One that always stuck with me was this one about a peasant from Mistral who became a foot soldier in the service of a warlord. Even though he had poor origins, he fought in and won several battles and would go on to become one of the most powerful warlords in the kingdom."

Pyrrha's gaze turned pensive.

"I've also heard this story. That same warlord was supposedly credited with uniting all the different peoples of Mistral into a single kingdom."

"Can't have been easy. Mistral's got a lot of different cultures, right?"

"It does indeed," Pyrrha, a Mistrali native, nodded, "Which makes its unification all the more impressive."

"Yeah."

Jaune adopted a thoughtful stance of his own.

"I wonder why I remember that story the most. Maybe it's because I can identify with the peasant. After all, we both started out with nothing."

Pyrrha took a bite out of her apple before smiling encouragingly at him.

"Maybe so. But perhaps you are destined to do great things in the future just as the peasant did."

"I guess." Jaune's smile was somewhat meeker, but it soon turned to one of good-natured humor.

"Maybe I'll finally beat you in sparring."

The four-time champion of the Mistrali Regional Tournament donned a mask of faux condescension that wouldn't have disgraced Weiss.

"Hmph. As if you would ever stand a chance."

The two teammates chuckled heartily before resuming their eating. They were later joined by the N and R of their team, with Nora carrying both a stack of pancakes twice her height and a bottle of maple syrup while Ren had a simple salad.

Once they had finished eating, Jaune pulled out his Scroll to finish his message.

Honestly, I couldn't have asked for a better team, and I'm sure that we can finally start making a difference out there.

I have to go. Class is about to start. I'll write some more to you later.

Tell Aunt Ishild and Zev that I said hello.

Your nephew,

Jaune

He hit the "Send" button, slipped his Scroll back into his pocket, and got up to lead his team through another day of classes.

Present Time...

1508 hours
Dolchstadt Shipyard
Administrative Building
Tagge's Office

Tagge looked out the large window situated behind his desk, which allowed for an unobstructed view of the entire shipyard.

The enormous drydocks below were bustling with activity as Human and Faunus laborers worked to build new destroyers and repair those already in service.

Above the yard, warships of Grunger's Red Hammer Fleet were on patrol, ready to deter any possible attack from air and land. There were also several other vessels belonging to naval units whose ships were here for repairs, including Thrawn's own fleet.

Speaking of which, Tagge watched as several tugs guided the Judicator and the Bellicose into two vacant drydocks, one of which had just been vacated by the destroyer Whirlwind, the vessel serving as Harrsk's flagship.

The rest of Harbinger Fleet maintained a holding pattern near the shipyard, allowing the Grand General to clearly see the armada that his friend had amassed.

Though the Victorys and Imperators made up the bulk of Thrawn's fleet, they were dwarfed by the Praetor-class battlecruiser Intimidator, measuring as long as three Imperators end-to-end and capable of carrying and deploying an entire division of ground troops.

The destroyers and battlecruiser were also accompanied by several smaller Lancer-class frigates and IPV-1 patrol vessels, which acted as both escort and anti-aircraft ships.

There were even five of the newer Interdictor warships, which were capable of generating large shields that could deflect and absorb blasts from various weapons. Four were Immobilizer-class vessels, about two-thirds the length of a Victory, though retaining the same dagger-like shape with a flatter bridge and four globular shield generators near the stern. One was a Dominator-class airship, essentially an Imperator retrofitted with both shield generators that more powerful than those on the Immobilizers and a missile jamming system, a feature unique to the class.

Each ship in Harbinger Fleet bore the unit's emblem: A black image of a Chimaera, the mythical monster that served as the namesake for the Faunus Admiral's flagship, superimposed on an hourglass.

Once the Judicator and Bellicose were in their respective drydocks, large clamps secured the destroyers, and bridges extended to allow repair teams to board and non-essential crew to disembark.

With a few taps on his Scroll, Tagge ordered the drydock supervisors to allow the laborers that had earlier been repairing the Whirlwind the chance to go on break, and to send another crew to take their place.

Though the procedure was time-consuming, it helped ensure that the yardmen would not be overworked. Unlike most Atlesian businessmen and tycoons, Tagge prioritized the welfare of his employees over his company's profit. As his mother had taught him when grooming the young Cassio to replace her as owner of TaggeCo, building airships effectively required a strong and highly motivated labor force. And in order to keep them in such a state of mind, they needed to be cared for, regardless of whether they were Human or Faunus.

A key embodiment of Sanya Tagge's philosophy was the city of Dolchstadt, located just north of the shipyard.

The city had originally been little more than a few rows of houses, constructed almost fifteen years earlier in order to provide living accommodations for both the yardmen and, most importantly, their families.

Apart from keeping the employees at the time satisfied, the construction of housing also attracted new hires, especially amongst Faunus who were embittered by the cruel treatment they suffered under the SDC but shied away from the White Fang's radical methods.

Soon, the influx of workers plus the building of additional infrastructure meant that the tiny town had rapidly grown into a thriving city. When choosing a name, the inhabitants decided upon "Dolchstadt," an Old Atlesian phrase that translated roughly to "Dagger city" and an allusion to the dagger shaped hulls of the vessels being built nearby. The name was later bestowed upon the shipyard itself.

Tagge smiled and turned back around to briefly gaze at his desk. The holographic projector built into it currently displayed two large screens.

One screen showed the blueprints for the new Allegiance-class battlecruisers, designed to complement and eventually replace the Praetors, which were nearing twelve years of service. The first two vessels had already been completed and were now serving with Grand Admiral Osvald Teshik's 4th Air Fleet, tasked with defending Atlas City.

The other diagramed a series of wargames that the Ground Forces was to conduct over the course of the week. The goal was to test a new strategy for conducting armored warfare, one that utilized both tanks and the Paladin battlesuits rather than favoring one over the other.

It was hoped that this moderate strategy would appease both the Generals who favored automation and the more conservative officers within the Armored Corps who had balked at proposals of having their tanks replaced with mechs, let alone automated ones.

After sparing both screens one quick glance, Tagge returned his attention to Thrawn, Pellaeon, and Grunger, all of whom were holding glasses of water and were seated in armchairs that encircled a round table at the center of the office.

The voice of Emily Grey, Tagge's favorite opera singer, warbled from a radio in the far left corner of the room. The Grand General was an avid fan of opera, owing to both his noble upbringing and his mother's attempts to expose her children to the arts.

Thrawn took a sip from his glass and leaned forward from his chair, his slit pupils meeting Tagge's gaze.

"I trust things are well with the company?"

Tagge nodded.

"As well as they can be. Production of the next batch of Imperators is proceeding as planned, and our new fighter construction facility in Gletscherbach District has begun operations."

"That is good news," Thrawn acknowledged.

"Indeed. However, servicing the ships we already have in service hasn't been entirely easy, at least here. Most of my repair teams have been spending the last three days performing extensive repairs on the destroyers Accuser and Agonizer."

Next to Thrawn, Pellaeon's grey eyebrows suddenly raised as his countenance bore surprise.

"I beg your pardon, Tagge. Did you say the Accuser and Agonizer were here for repairs?"

"I did."

"Does that mean that Admirals Piett and Rogriss are here as well?"

"Yes. I take it you wish to see them?"

The Captain turned to his superior.

"With your permission, sir?"

After a few thoughtful seconds, Thrawn nodded in acquiescence.

"Very well. You may go."

"There's a cafeteria on the ground floor," Tagge said, "I can ask them both to meet you there."

"Thank you."

Pellaeon stood and made his exit, a mild spring in his step.

"What's got him so excited?" Grunger asked his fellow Grand Admiral.

Thrawn hid a knowing smile behind his hand, still gripping his glass.

"Before they achieved their current rank, Admirals Piett and Rogriss served as captains in my fleet. Captain Pellaeon was their mentor."

"Ah."

Grunger apparently knew of Pellaeon's tendency to foster a strong camaraderie with those who served under and alongside him, as he made no further comment.

Tagge, meanwhile, cleared his throat to gain the attention of the two Grand Admirals.

"Now then, Thrawn, would you care to explain why you chose to call us together today?"

Thrawn nodded and set his glass down.

"As two senior military officers and some of my closest allies, I believed you needed to hear the information I have."

And so he told Tagge and Grunger everything. About the attack on the Tzoah, about Astor Neumann's escape, and most importantly, about his suspicions that the White Fang were going to use Neumann to infiltrate the CCT tower in Vale and introduce a virus into the system.

Thrawn also made sure to mention his discussion with Ironwood, seeing as Tagge was his superior.

Upon mentioning Ironwood's confidence in a show of power, both Tagge and Grunger let out exasperated sighs.

"As shrewd a tactician James may be," the Grand General remarked, "At times, his overconfidence would put General Lagune to shame."

"Then why did we send him?" Grunger asked, remembering the foolhardy Human general who'd underestimated his Faunus opponents during the Battle of Fortcastle and paid dearly.

Tagge frowned bitterly.

"As the councils of the four kingdoms are responsible for organizing the Vytal Festival, our own Council made the decision to appoint the Head of Security. Unfortunately, I had little say in the process, owing to the fact that I don't hold a seat."

In the aftermath of the failed Coup of '73, the Grand General and all 12 Grand Admirals were barred from holding seats in the Ruling Council. While the official reason for this was to protect them from assassination attempts, skeptics of the measure argued that the Council was attempting to curb the influence of the military. Ironic, considering that some of the councilors had served or were serving in the armed forces.

Grunger still wasn't satisfied, though.

"Don't you have your own friends in the Council?"

"Yes, and they opposed the decision. But it seems their vetoes weren't enough."

Thrawn was the next to speak up.

"What about Admiral Konstantine?"

The other Grand Admiral in the room snorted disdainfully at the mention of the Council's Representative of the Navy.

"He voted for Ironwood," Tagge replied, "From my understanding, the other Grand Admirals aren't too happy with him for doing so."

"Can't say I blame them," Grunger chimed back in, "One of the few things all twelve of us can agree on is distaste for Ironwood and his plans for automation. So if Konstantine's supporting him, they're all bound to hate him. Of course, I hate him regardless. Snobby bastard."

"Either way, it seems this matter is out of our hands," Tagge declared, "All we can do now is wait for the White Fang make their move."

He looked up, as though a sudden revelation had come to him.

"On the other hand, we do at least know of the fate of the missing Paladin prototypes."

Tagge pushed a few buttons on his desk and the holographic projector pulled up a document along with several photographs.

"The day before yesterday, we received a tip from our colleagues in Atlesian Security that one of their agents had spotted one of the prototypes in the city of Vale."

One photograph expanded to show a rather wide alleyway somewhere in Vale. Judging by the angle, the photo had been taken from high up. It showed several people unloading a Paladin from a truck.

While the Paladin itself bore no markings, the white uniforms worn by the guys handling the giant battlesuit displayed a blood-red wolf's head.

"As you can see. One of the prototypes appears to have fallen into the hands of the White Fang. Considering that they were all being shipped together, we can assume the same fate befell the others."

Though he didn't voice it, Thrawn had to commend Tagge for keeping himself calm and composed.

Grunger, however, was not as successful.

"How the hell did those terrorists steal a Paladin? I thought the convoy carrying them was supposed to be well protected!"

"Apparently they found a weakness in the convoy's security detail, and exploited it," Tagge muttered.

"There's more. Yesterday, the same agent reported that a prototype, possibly the one from the previous photo, was destroyed in an engagement with a team of students from Beacon Academy."

"Based on this photo, it seems the mech's pilot was none other than Roman Torchwick."

The Grand General pulled up another picture that showed a man standing amidst the wreckage of the prototype facing four girls who were presumably the Beacon students, each armed. Even though the man's face couldn't be seen, owing to the angle from which the picture had been taken, there was no mistaking the distinctive white jacket and black bowler hat.

"That's strange," Thrawn mused, "Why would the White Fang, an organization known for harboring strong anti-Human sentiment, work with a Human?"

Tagge nodded and added his two cents.

"Especially with a Human who, according to his Investigations file, is infamous for being an anti-Faunus bigot."

"It's likely he isn't working with them willingly," Grunger pitched in, "Though that raises another question. Who's forcing them to work together?"

"Hopefully we'll find the answer, along with so many others, when the White Fang make their next move," Thrawn replied placatingly. In order to study an unknown enemy, one had to observe his or her moves.

"Still, you can't help but worry, can you?" Grunger questioned with a frown.

Thrawn mirrored his colleague's expression as he gazed out the large window towards the horizon.

"Of course I can't help but worry. After all, we are discussing an issue that could lead to a war larger than the one we're currently waging."

When Pellaeon finally reached the cafeteria, he found it packed with officers and workers eating and conversing amongst themselves.

To his mild surprise, the cafeteria was nicely furnished, with bright, decorative walls, various tables of different sizes and either circular or rectangular shape, and, judging by the various lines and kitchens at the far end, plenty of opportunities as far as food went. There was even a coffee bar tucked away in a corner.

He was not hungry, having eaten aboard the Chimaera en route to the city, though a cup of coffee always sounded good.

"Captain Pellaeon!"

He pivoted around and found himself face-to-face with two fellow officers, their grey uniforms nearly identical to his. The difference, however, was in their insignia plaques. Pellaeon's own plaque marked him as a Captain, while theirs distinguished them as Admirals.

One officer had brown eyes and matching short hair protruding from his peaked officer's cap. The other had gray hair that almost mirrored Pellaeon's own in its color.

The Captain smiled warmly.

"Hello, Piett. Rogriss. It's been a long time."

Admirals Firmus Piett and Teren Rogriss reached forward and shook hands with their former mentor.

While Piett forced a thin smile, Rogriss grinned jauntily.

"How're you doing, old man?"

Pellaeon rolled his eyes in mild exasperation. It seemed one of his pupils hadn't lost his unrestrained sense of humor.

"I hardly think you're in a position to call me old, especially since your hair's turned gray."

"Touché," Rogriss acknowledged, "But I don't have a bushy moustache like you."

"Well you seem to be doing well for yourself if you've still got your wit."

Rogriss chuckled as Pellaeon turned to his other student.

"And what about you, Piett? Are you doing alright?"

"Yes, sir." The other Admiral muttered tersely.

He decided not to press the issue, as Piett was very meek when it came to conversation.

"So, boys, what do you say we grab some coffee and have a chat?"

Piett's face brightened considerably and he nodded. He, too, it seemed, had converted to the religion of coffee.

"Sounds like a plan!" Rogriss declared enthusiastically.

The three officers walked to the bar and placed their order. Once they had received their cups of coffee, they found a table for three and took a seat.

Pellaeon was the first to initiate conversation.

"Now then, what have you both been up to?"

Piett took a sip from his cup and leaned back in his chair.

"Protecting the facilities in Alsius."

Since the Great War, Alsius District, now the site of Atlas' Huntsman Academy, had been a hub for military production and development. It was home to several factories that churned out guns, vehicles, and aircraft for the armed forces.

The district was also the site of the headquarters for the military's R&D division, known as Advanced Weapons Research, and housed several research facilities.

"Apparently, they're sending a Specialist to oversee all future android shipments after that fiasco with the Paladin prototypes."

Pellaeon was mildly surprised. As the Specialist Corps was nowadays primarily involved in combating Grimm, with Advanced Operations tackling more sentient opponents, it seemed a little unusual for one of its members to get involved in matters outside its scope.

"Who might they be sending?"

Piett scrunched up his face in disgust.

"Winter Schnee," he spat. Clearly the Admiral held the same disdain for the Schnee name that so many others did.

"Lighten up," Rogriss interjected, "At least you've got the somewhat reasonable one in the family."

"What do you mean?"

The Admiral smirked sardonically.

"When you're responsible for tracking down the bastards who've been robbing SDC dust shipments, you tend to frequently come into contact with the company executives."

He took a sip from his coffee mug.

"Or even better, the Peacock himself."

The former mentor couldn't hold back a chuckle. Rogriss always loved to come up with unflattering nicknames for those he didn't like.

"I take it you aren't too fond of them?"

"Yup. Those scumbags only care about their dust and the Lien it's apparently worth."

Pellaeon took his ex student's disgust as a sign that he needed to change the subject.

"Well, how is the hunt going?"

At that, Rogriss' mood seemed to improve.

"It's going swimmingly. We actually ended up taking out one of the White Fang cells responsible for the latest string of dust robberies."

"Do tell."

"Turns out they were also planning steal a shipment of tanks leaving Winterhafen by train. Thanks to our boys in Security, we were able to monitor their radio traffic and pinpoint both their hideout and the path the raiding party would be taking."

"You'd think that they'd have learned to change their frequencies by now," Piett remarked drily.

"I'm not complaining. Anyways, I sent a couple of gunships to stop them from reaching the train, and they performed their job perfectly. Blew that terrorist scum to bits. Of course, I gave them the opportunity to surrender beforehand."

"Ever the gentleman. But how'd you deal with their base?"

"I took a page out of their own book and went for the hit-and-run."

"Elaborate, Rogriss."

"It's actually simple. I showed up over the base, bombarded them with plasma fire, sent a few men down to gather any important materials, and left."

"What'd you get?"

"No dust, much to the chagrin of the materialists, but we did find, amongst other things, a map of additional bases in the region. I was about to go after them, until two of the Agonizer's main engines suddenly decided to roll over and die."

"I take it that's why you are here?" Pellaeon observed.

"Yup. Thank goodness our destroyers have emergency engines."

"Indeed."

He then turned to Piett, who'd finished most of his coffee.

"And what about you Piett? Why are you here?"

The expression on Piett's face changed to one of either bitterness or embarrassment.

"Collision," he muttered.

"Pardon?"

"I was involved in a collision," Piett repeated, a little louder this time.

"What happened?"

"About five days earlier, there was an airship convoy arriving in Alsius with various chemicals. Apparently, the Biochemical unit was testing a new method for synthesizing nerve agents."

"Sounds like good old Krennic is keeping his scientists busy," said Rogriss.

Pellaeon had never met the Director of the Biochemical Research Unit, the branch of AWR tasked with developing such weapons for the military, but he'd heard stories about him and his superhuman dedication to his work.

"Indeed he is," Piett continued, "Anyways, my task force was to escort the convoy on the final leg of its journey to Alsius."

"So, what happened?"

"Unfortunately, my navigation officer failed to inform me that our route would take us over Atlas Academy around the same time that the students would be leaving for the Vytal Festival. And you know how big those airships they travel in are."

"Oh, no," Rogriss muttered.

"Ended up striking one of them amidships. Thankfully there were no students aboard, or they would've probably been killed. My ship, however, wasn't as fortunate: 19 crewmen dead and a heavily damaged bow."

Pellaeon reached over and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

Piett shrugged him off and smiled thinly.

"It's alright. You said this sort of thing would happen when we were first signed up, right? Besides, I made sure the navigation officer responsible was court-martialed."

Pellaeon frowned behind his mug. Ideally, he would've reminded Piett that the fault really lay with him for failing to order evasive maneuvers to avoid the collision. Instead, he held his tongue, remembering that Piett had a tendency to shift blame for his mistakes. It was a problem he hadn't been able to correct.

Piett, for his part, simply smirked and turned to Rogriss.

"So tell us, Rogriss. Is it true that Jacques Schnee's moustache is as big as his ego?"

Rogriss huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Hardly. His ego is large enough to swallow all of Remnant."

The rest of their time together passed amicably with the three of them abusing the CEO of the Schnee Dust Company amongst other things.

By the time he'd bid both of his former students a fond farewell and started making his way back to Tagge's office, Pellaeon felt both relieved and content to see that his former students had managed to rise to great heights since leaving his tutelage.

He was certain that, despite Piett's issues, both Rogriss and he would remain exemplary Admirals in the Navy.

The Navy would certainly need such officers, be it in a time of peace or war.

I hope you all caught the tiny RvB reference.

On to the notes:

-The design of the F-1 Nimbus is inspired by fanart I found that depicted a WWII-era TIE Fighter. If you wish to see it, just google search "WWII TIE FTR"

-Drachen is the class name I'll be using for the Atlesian Dropship featured in the actual show, with "Drachen" being the German/Old Atlesian word for dragon. I got the idea from a comment on the RWBY wiki saying that the ship kind of looked like a dragon.

-So Jaune is part Atlesian and has an Uncle in the military. Any thoughts on who he may be? If you have ideas, I'd prefer it if you PM me with your answer, so as to not potentially spoil it for those who haven't gotten this far.

-The story that Jaune and Pyrrha discuss is essentially a streamlined, RWBY-ized version of the real life tale of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, the famous Samurai warlord of peasant upbringing who would play a key role in Japan's unification during the late 16th and early 17th centuries.

-The structure of my version of the Ruling Council of Atlas is based in part on that of the United States Senate

-The Praetor and Allegiance classes of battlecruisers appear here as the Atlesian Navy's Super Star Destroyer equivalences. As with the Victorys and Imperators, their space capabilities have been removed.

-The Lancer-class frigates and IPV-1 patrol boats make their appearances as escort and anti-aircraft vessels, as Atlas needs to have some smaller craft in its fleet.

-The Interdictors have been modified somewhat compared to their canon counterparts. Here, they use shield generators instead of gravity wells.

-Admirals Firmus Piett and Teren Rogriss are here as ex-students of Captain Pellaeon. It's a bit of a downgrade from their roles in canon.

-Advanced Weapons Research appears as the primary R&D branch of the Atlesian Military, with sub branches that each specialize in a particular type of weapon.

-You may have noticed the passive introductions of Admiral Konstantine, Governor Tarkin, Grand Admiral Teshik, and Director Krennic. I will comment more on them when they make their actual appearances, though I've kind of already described their roles.

-In one of my earlier notes, I said that I had no plans of eventually bringing in Agent Kallus. I may have fibbed about that.

Now for the reviews:

-MCZ: Thanks for the compliment. I do pity Harrsk, though, considering that he has split-personality disorder in the EU. I'm glad you liked Rogue One. I, for one, really enjoyed the ending, both because it led directly into A New Hope and because I am a huge Vader fan.

-Shepard131: Thank you.

As always, reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated, and I will see you next chapter.