Time for a New chapter!

Incredibly sorry for the wait. Writer's block is a real bitch. Anyway, this is just a quick reminder the overarching storyline was made pre-volume 4, and as of such Salem's, Ozpin's, and Remnant's backstory as a whole is far different than canon. I will try to incorporate some of the new elements from canon, but its very much a square in circle scenario. If it fits, great, I'll try to put it in. If not, oh well.

Anyway, slight warning, this is a very dialogue-heavy chapter. Its got, umm, basically no pew pew action whatsoever. Its a very important chapter, but that doesn't make it any less dialogue-heavy. I know that that's not some people's thing, and so if you're one of those people I apologize, but yeah, it was very important. Skip it at your own risk.

Speaking of own risk:

Drinking game! Take a shot every time you read the word Thrawn.

(PS: Don't do that, you'll fucking die)

Center of "Solum" nebula

"Remnant" system

Hiding in shadow of "Remnant-2a"

Star Destroyer- Grey Wolf

Captain's Quarters

"Sir, transmission request from Bishop squad. Link marked as urgent."

Grand Admiral Thrawn lowered the datapad on Mistrailian metalshapping he was reading, frowning at the comm.

"Granted, patch to my terminal."

"Aye, sir."

A moment of static, before a voice that was most certainly not sergeant King sounded out.

"Grand admiral, are you receiving?"

Arching an eyebrow as he managed to place the speaker's identity, Thrawn responded, "I am, lieutenant. What seems to be the issue? And is there a particular reason you are the one contacting me, rather than Bishop-1?"

A moment of silence hung before bishop-2 responded.

"Yes sir, I'm afraid Bishop-1… didn't make it."

Thrawn's tone sharpened.

"Explain."

"There were several huntsmen-tier combatants among the insurgents sir. Three to be exact. We prioritized and successfully terminated two of them, but the sergeant was killed taking one of them down." He paused, seemingly taking a breath, "Additionally, bishop-3 and bishop-4 are out-of-action and in need of medical assistance. They are currently in-route to the ship as we speak."

Thrawn's lips thinned, "I'll make sure they are treated as soon as they arrive. Now, you said you terminated 2 of the huntsmen-tier fighters. What of the last? Is the mission a failure?"

There was silence on the other end for some time before Bishop 2 responded.

"...Primary mission objectives were accomplished. Insurgent presence in Mountain Glenn has been completely eliminated, and all of the Atlesian mechs present were seized. However, I'm afraid first contact has occurred far sooner than anticipated."

"Is that so?"

"Aye sir. We weren't the only ones searching for the insurgent's base. There was a Valean huntsmen team in the area with the same objective. Once we engaged, our firefight attracted their attention. Upon arrival, they joined us in combating the insurgents. Specifically, they assisted in disabling and capturing the last huntsmen-tier combatant. At the battle's end we quickly established a tentative first contact, but were then forced to evacuate the tunnels as grimm presence was becoming... substantial."

Thrawn drummed his knuckles on his desk, considering the new development.

"An... unexpected outcome, but not necessarily a bad one. Moreover, I presume these huntsmen will object if you attempt to keep one of the mechs?"

"Very likely sir."

"Now that is unfortunate," he admitted, "The presence of huntsmen-tier fighters was as unforeseen as it was damaging. You have my condolences for sergeant King. Know that with this mission's success, I will ensure his death was not meaningless."

"Sir... with all due respect, the mission was only partially successful."

"Is that so?" Thrawn queried, "In what way lieutenant?"

"The elimination of the insurgents was part of the mission parameters, but the primary objective was to seize the mechs for study. With the initiation of first contact, this objective has failed. Bishop-1 is dead, and all we have to show for his death are a few dead terrorists. I admit difficulty seeing this as a complete victory."

Thawn frowned. It was always hard to tell with clones and their markedly above-average discipline, but he could tell this one was more than merely displeased with the mission's results. And if Bishop 2's mood was indicative of the others in that unit… such could prove a problem. Morale was extremely vital to any unit's effectiveness on the field, and here, in the middle of the unknown regions so far from any substantial imperial presence, every one of his units mattered. Not enough that he was unwilling to risk them, (he did have other, smaller task forces scattered throughout the areas he planned to one-day comprise his domain, and he could likewise call upon the Ascendancy if absolutely necessary), but every loss did nevertheless set him back a fair bit.

This was doubly so concerning his limited special force units.

Bishop squad was the only commando unit he had in this particular fleet, and they'd just lost their leader. He'd be damned before they lose any more of their combat-effectiveness due to low morale. Unfortunately, as a unit of clones the normal methods of motivation were far less effective. They cared little for time off or other luxuries, pay was all but inconsequential to them, punishment would send the opposite message he sought, and they had no family to return to -save their immediate and increasingly rare clone brethren. His only real option was to assure them that the loss of their commanding officer was somehow not the completely useless failure they seemed to believe it was.

"Then you misassign the importance of your mission's objectives, lieutenant", he began, "Yes, the primary goal of seizing a mech has proven unfeasible, however, that was ultimately a short-term goal. One intended to enlighten us of the abilities of the Remnant's populous quicker than might otherwise be available. On the other hand, the elimination of the insurgent base was far more than a mere secondary objective. Indeed, I believe it is better this way. Eliminating the enemies of potential allies is a highly effective method of fostering relations with said entity. Even better, your team has actually fought alongside the valeans, and such an act by definition extends a degree of trust. Our task now is to reinforce that image."

He paused, letting Bishop-2 digest that information.

"Understand, your sergeant's death is extremely unfortunate, and will likely prove a substantial blow in the coming months, but his loss only becomes pointless if we refuse to to use the advantage we now possess due to his sacrifice. And I detest wasting any advantage. Does that alleviate your concerns, lieutenant?"

A few moments of silence.

"...Yes sir. I understand sir."

"Good. Now, a full debrief can wait until you return, but I'd like a summarization. What is the status of our forces?"

"Casualties were rather high. Just over 50% KIA. Along with Kin- Bishop-1, thirty-eight of the stormtroopers were killed, and two of our AT-STs were destroyed. I can confirm that the majority of those losses were attributed to the enemy huntsmen-tier combatants. The remainder of our forces are returning to the ship, with the exception of myself and squad Cherek, as the huntsmen team insisted some of us accompany them back to Vale."

"You are being brought to Vale now?"

"Straight to beacon sir."

Thrawn stood up. A swift tap on his terminal alerted the hanger crews to ready a shuttle.

"Listen to me, lieutenant. Once you arrive in Vale, if asked, limit your dialogue with the Valeans solely to your mission's purpose and assure them that we have peaceful intentions. Reveal nothing beyond basic information. I will arrive shortly to take over negotiations. Understood?"

"Understood sir."

Remnant

Low orbit

Sentinel shuttle E1-142-A

Vale, Kingdom of Vale

In route to Beacon Academy

"I'm sorry about your friend."

Code turned to the raven-haired girl as he closed his link to Thrawn. She regarded him with seeming indifference, but he could see the pity lurking behind the facade. Her teammates weren't even trying, openly gazing at him with concerned eyes.

He stifled a growl. People died in war. He'd known that from the moment the kaminoans took him out of his cloning pod. He'd seen that, hundreds, if not thousands of times throughout his life. No one was immune. Not defenseless civilians, not armed militia, not his trained siblings, and not even his commando bothers.

Still, he had hoped that after the clone wars…

His fist clenched.

No. Even the mystical Jedi, with all their powers and supernatural abilities inevitably fell to the fires of war.

War was a scythe, a blade of unrelenting death, striking at anything and everything at the most unexpected of moments, indiscriminately reaping all those that happened to be in its way. So no. He was well familiar with the scythe of war. He did not need their pity.

"I'm… fine," he replied, "Just tired."

The small redhead of the group hesitated, but decided to butt in anyway, "Your other teammates, the ones that were buried under the building- they're going to be alright though, right?", she enthused, trying to sound positive.

"Most likely."

Uncomfortable silence descended on the cabin, broken only by the muted howl of the air outside.

"Well," Blondy declared, "this is awkward."

Code didn't deem that worthy of a response.

The princess-looking wannabe glanced around the room, seeming going to say something, but then hesitated and turned to the redhead. When said redhead simply continued to stare morosely at Code the girl frowned and jerked her elbow into the shorter girl's hip. The recipient gave a startled yelp and half-jump, turning to give her companion a confused and slightly betrayed look. The princess in turn gestured to their group before pointedly indicating Code and his squad, finally causing the redhead's eyes to widen in realization.

"Oh! Ah... we never introduced ourselves!" then her eyes widened even further, "AndI'mtheteamleaderIshouldhavedonethatalreadygodsIhopeIdidn'tscrewthisupalready,"

Her sputtering paused for the sake of breathing, she glanced back to Code, letting out an embarrassed cough.

"So… anyway, my name's Ruby!"

The girl thrust out her hand with a bright smile. As Code merely continued to gaze at her, the girl grew more and more uncomfortable, her other hand eventually reaching up behind her to nervously rub her head. After nearly a minute of no response, she finally lowered her outheld hand.

"So ah, yea I'm Ruby, and this is my sister Yang-"

Blondy gave an irritated half-wave, slightly crimson eyes boring straight into his visor.

"This here is Weiss-"

Princess justified her nickname with a small curtsy.

"And that's Blake!"

The bow-wearing girl inclined her head, amber eyes seemingly analyzing him.

Silence once more descended on the group.

"Do… do you have a name?"

"Code," was the curt reply.

"Code," Blake repeated, seemingly testing the name, "Nickname? Military designation?"

He shrugged, "Of a sort."

"Do you have an actual name?" Wiess asked, "Or are you not allowed to say?"

He was quiet for a moment,"...IC-4554."

Yang threw her hands up, "For god's sake pal, why are you being such a-"

The door to the cockpit slid open with a woosh and professor Oobleck strode through, promptly interrupting Yang with his off-putting fast-paced speech.

"Good news everyone! We had a bit of a scare with Atlas's overprotective fleet, but that's thankfully been handled with minimal fuss. As of such, we're almost to Beacon and will be landing momentarily!"

He turned to the imperials.

"Headmaster Ozpin will be waiting for us, and is most eager to meet you. Speaking of superiors, have you managed to contact your own? Are you allowed to speak for them? Or are we to wait for an appropriate representative?"

Taking a moment to decipher the deluge of words, Code nodded, "My commanding officer is on his way as we speak. ETA within ten or so minutes."

Oobleck clapped his hands together, "Excellent! He will be traveling in a craft similar to this one, correct?

"He will. It'll be a bit smaller and more angular, but will have the same basic design."

"Perfect! Now if you'll excuse me, I will go ensure Atlas will actually let his ship though."

And so, just as swiftly as he arrived, he vanished back into the cockpit, the door closing and cutting off the growing conversation inside.

Soon after, a series of rumbles rattled the cabin, and the pilot's voice sounded over the intercom.

"Approaching Beacon landing pad, prepare to disembark."

Code turned away from the girls, glancing over the stormtroopers accompanying him. At his indication squad Cherek stood up and made their way towards the shuttle doors. None of them said anything, but their sergeant did give the commando a small nod before moving to do the same. Behind him he heard some shuffling and a muttered, "whatever" before the girls joined them at the ramp.

The sound of the air outside increased to a dull roar before abruptly halting as the craft jerked, setting down with several dull thuds. With a hissed whine the ramp lowered, letting the light of early dawn spill into the cabin. Awaiting them on the landing pad were two individuals. The first was a tall, bespeckled elderly gentleman with silvery hair and a green suit, holding a curious-looking cane in one hand. Beside him stood an almost equally tall stern-looking woman, blond hair contrasting well with her black and white dress, finished off with a dark purple cape.

Hidden behind his helmet, Code arch an incredulous eyebrow. He knew these "huntsmen" were a highly varied lot in terms of weapons, but was that a riding crop?

Whatever. Judging by the caf addict's weapon, he wouldn't be surprised if said crop turned into some sort of uber-cannon or something equally ridiculous. All he had to do was keep recording and let the tech-heads figure it out once he got back to the Grey Wolf. Still, he had no idea who the woman was, but if the pre-mission research they did (or pointless and useless lies as Dairmund would call it, as said research frequently turned turned out false) on the Planet's network was accurate, then this must be Professor Ozpin, the headmaster of Beacon Academy.

A moment later his guess was proven correct as the girls (and the doctor/caf addict, an unconscious insurgent huntsman slug over his shoulder) quickly moved to speak with the headmaster and who he presumed was another professor. After a moment of conversation among themselves and some rather expressive gesturing by the caf addict, the headmaster finally waved them off. The man nodded and with a flash zipped away, presumably to take that Torchwick character somewhere more secure. With that the headmaster turned and made his way towards the commando, the girls trailing behind him.

"Greetings," the headmaster began with a respectful nod as he approached, "my understanding is that a superior officer will be arriving shortly?"

Unconsciously, Code straightened up at Thrawn's mention.

"Yes sir, eta is-," a glance at helmet monitor, "-4 minutes. Your kingdom scanners should be picking up his craft momentarily."

Ozpin slightly frowned before glancing over at his second.

"Glynda, doctor Oobleck informs me he's already warned Atlesian security of our guest's arrival, but if you could…", he trailed off meaningfully.

The riding crop lady, now revealed as Glynda, seemed to quickly catch on, letting out a diversive huff.

"I'll find James and make sure there are no misunderstandings."

"Thank you."

Glynda gave an irritated roll of her eyes, but nevertheless turned and left the landing pad pulling out what looked to be a communicator of sorts as she did so.

Turning back to Code with a slight smile, Ozpin continued, "Now that that is handled, perhaps introductions are in order?"

Before Code could answer, Ruby seemed to take this as a que to jump in, doing so quite literally between the two of them.

"This is Code! He and his buddies were kicking White Fang butt when we arrived, and had already super weakened Torchwick! Capturing him was a walk in the park thanks to them! Well not a total walk in the park, he threatened everybody with a bunch of bombs, that meanie, but it didn't matter in the end cause everyone was awesome. Ohhh… you should've seen it professor! They have guns that shoot plasma. Actual Plasma!

She paused, turning to Code with a small frown.

"It is plasma, right? It didn't look like lasers, and Weiss said there were none of the normal signs of burn dust."

Code regarded the excitable girl with sight concern, before giving a small nod.

"The technical term is blaster. I can't really say much more than that."

Ruby opened her mouth to speak again, but Ozpin interrupted her.

"And that is understandable." he said, placing a hand on Ruby's shoulder, "One does not need to reveal everything on the first meeting after all. I'm sure more information will be revealed as we become more familiar with each other. And I'm sure such information will inevitably make its way down to you. Until then however, why don't you and your team go rest. From what I understand, you've been up all night."

Ruby frowned, a disappointed look in her eyes.

"But-"

"Come on Rubes," Yang interjected, already turning to leave along with the rest of team RWBY, "let the adults do their thing."

Ruby looked crestfallen, but nevertheless moved to join her team.

Ozpin chuckled as he watched them leave.

"My apologies if they at all made you uncomfortable. We don't teach diplomacy until third year." he said, a slight grin playing across his lips as they vanished deeper into campus grounds, "Miss Rose in particular tends to get ahead of herself"

Code shifted in response, "None needed. I'm not used to such enthusiasm, but honestly, it was rather… refreshing in a way."

"Yes," Ozpin replied, tone somewhat fond, "She tends to have that effect on people. They all have a bright future ahead of them, I'm sure of it."

Code couldn't think of a decently proper response, and so didn't bother. Ozpin likewise seemed content to wait for Thrawn's arrival in silence. And so they stood quietly, one unmoving due to a lifetime of training, the other thanks to a nature of inherent calm.

Their patience was rewarded as a craft appeared on the horizon, rapidly approaching. It was common knowledge that the Lambda-class, its sleeker and less bulky frame distinguishing it from the militarized Sentinel-class, made for a far more dignified entrance when dealing with diplomatic situations, and thus was favored by high-ranking imperials. As a result, Code was not particularly surprised that Thrawn had chosen one of them as his transport for this meeting, its angular frame swooping through the sky with a sense of presence. Code could see Ozpin inspecting the craft as it approached with open curiosity, regarding the various laser cannons poking out of its hull with a raised eyebrow.

Regardless, within seconds the craft had come to hover over the landing pad, proceeding to settle onto it with ease. Its ramp lowered with a muted hiss, and Thrawn strode out flanked by two stormtroopers, their appearance causing Code to scowl.

In his opinion, anything less than a pair of death troopers wasn't good enough, but a squad had failed to be assigned by the time the expedition had set off. Whether that was due to Thrawn's personal preferences or meddling imperial politicians he didn't know, but a first contact with a highly-skilled warrior race was exactly the kind of situation they would be most vital.

Bishop squad being almost entirely combat-ineffective was just the icing on this crap cake.

Scowl still hidden by his helmet, Code gave a quick nod towards his superior before indicating the bespectacled man beside him. "Grand Admiral, might I introduce Headmaster Ozpin of Beacon Academy. Headmaster, Grand Admiral Thrawn of his majesty's navy."

The two regarded each other for a moment, something passing between them that Code caught but was unable to understand, before Ozpin finally held out his hand in greeting.

"A pleasure," he spoke, still eyeing the chiss.

"The pleasure is mine," Thrawn replied, returning the handshake, "We would appear to have much to discuss".

"That we do," Ozpin agreed. He turned and gestured further into the campus. "Shall we?"

Beacon

Vale CCT Tower

Headmaster's office

"Lieutenant, you are dismissed for the time being. My thanks for the escort."

If the commando had any reservations about leaving Thrawn along with the headmaster, he didn't show them, instead offering a curt nod.

"Of course sir, I'll be with the shuttle should you need assistance," turning, he inclined his head to Ozpin, "Headmaster."

The veteran huntsmen looked at him for a moment before returning the gesture.

"If you wish" he began, "Glynda is likely finished talking to the general by now. I'm sure she'd be more than willing to offer a tour if you can find her."

The trooper stood still a moment, contemplating the offer.

"I might just take you up on that headmaster."

Ozpin smiled, "Her office is in the east wing, room 247."

The commando nodded, offered a quick salute to Thrawn, and moved into the elevator. With a ding it began its journey to the bottom of the tower, leaving the Grand Admiral and the Headmaster alone. Ozpin turned and gestured towards the desk.

"Please, take a seat."

Thrawn nodded and settled down, Ozpin quickly doing the same. For several seconds, the only sounds in the room were the ever-present ticking of clockwork gears lining the walls and ceiling.

Thrawn was the one who broke the silence, crimson eyes having taken in every detail the moment he had entered.

"Fascinating architecture," he noted, tone slightly curious.

"A personal touch," Ozpin acknowledged.

"Indeed," he agreed, "From what I understand, you huntsmen are rather fond of such touches, no?"

"We like to think our unique selves is a strength," the Headmaster explained, eying the man across from him.

"Forgive me," Thrawn said with a slight smile, "It is a… hobby of mine. Analyzing someone through their creations."

"Oh? And what does your analysis say about me, if I might ask?"

Thawn paused, taking a moment to glance around the room, eyeing the grand view from behind the Headmaster's desk, and the clam green tint that seemed to imbue the room, the ornate pillars flanking the room's entrance, before finally focusing on the clockwork ceiling and the soft shadows it cast.

"You seek control," he concluded, "The intricacies of the design, and the lack of any two identical pieces, and its overhead orientation. You seek to control and simultaneously protect those that enter this room. An ideology," he noted, eyeing the conspicuous lack of creature comforts in the office, "that does not always go hand in hand."

Ozpin regarded him, somewhat intrigued.

Thrawn paused once more, seemingly confirming his thoughts before continuing, "Clockwork. A highly unusual choice to construct the focus of one's methodology with. Incredibly complex yet... deceptively simple to the uninitiated. Its very nature makes it immune to many of the shortcomings and weaknesses of comparable systems. It cannot short-circuit nor does it require nice weather to function. So long as it is kept clean and its key is turned at the appropriate time, it will never cease to function. You built this yourself, yes?"

Ozpin gave a brief nod.

"And… the gears themselves. Custom-made or ordered?"

"Custom."

"I thought so, which means you are likely the only one who knows exactly how it works. Is that correct?"

Ozpin answered with a small nod, still eyeing Thrawn.

"Yes," the Grand Admiral finished, "An incredibly durable system in of itself, and well suited to protecting that which the creator prizes above all. However… it has risks of its own."

"Is that so?"

"Of course. All things do. The system is, as I said, immune to the vast majority of causes that prove the downfall of most other systems. But, for all its impressive durability, if a single vital cog is removed, the clock will no longer function, no matter how much you clean the gears or turn the key. And you would have to reforge the missing piece from scratch before you can start it up again."

As the Grand Admiral fell silent, Ozpin gazed up at his clock, before shifting back to Thrawn.

"You're a very smart man Grand Admiral. I don't think I've ever met anyone who can gain such insight so quickly."

Thrawn arched an eyebrow, "You disagree with my theories then?"

"On the contrary, I agree wholeheartedly. But it is as you said. All systems have weaknesses. In the face of such reality, all that can be done is to minimize as many weaknesses as possible."

"Of course, but what if you are not minimizing as many weaknesses as possible? What if there was an oversight, and there is still something that can be done?"

"I do have spare cogs if that's what you are wondering."

Ozpin had yet to make Thrawn laugh, but he did succeed in eliciting a slight grin.

"Naturally. However, this principle can be applied to systems other than a big clock," he responded, indicating the gears in the ceiling.

"For instance, this clock of yours? It resembles another system very much. One far grander in scope."

"You speak of Huntsmen and Huntresses."

"I do," Thrawn acknowledged, "Largely immune to outside influence, self-policing and therefore 'self-cleaning' if you will, and the academies operate as both forge and key, endlessly creating new gears and continuing the system. It too, is very good at protecting its prize"

During the speech the Headmaster had pulled a cup of coffee from… somewhere… and idly took a sip as contemplated what Thrawn had said.

"Hmm, slight warning. Don't let any huntsmen hear you call them cogs or gears. They won't react kindly. And…yes, I can see the analogy, however as you said, the academies forge over 200 new 'gears' each year. To continue the analogy, it too has plenty of spares."

"Needing spares is not what I am referring to."

"Then what is?"

"The lack of the correct spare, and more prominently, the rather vital role of specific pieces."

Ozpin suppressed a slight frown, "I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Do you have a replacement in line, should you pass away?"

Ozpin arched an eyebrow, but answered nevertheless, "Of course. Glynda is more than qualified for the role. If we had a fifth academy she'd already be a Headmistress."

"And if she should pass as well? And who would fill the role she has now? Or what if something happened to one of your other professors instead? Dr… Oobleck was his name yes? Do you have a successor for him should the worst come to pass? You understand what I speak of?"

Ozpin leaned forward, his tone gone somewhat hard.

"I assure It is not something I like to think about, but rest assured matters of succession are handled with care. One is not chosen if myself and the other headmasters believe them incapable of the job."

"That is my point. What if there is no one capable of handling the job?"

"Such a situation has not occurred in the 80 plus years the academies have been operating for."

"Of course," Thrawn placated in the face of Ozpin's displeasure, "As you say. But, consider...exactly how many Grimm surges have occurred in the past 80 years?"

Ozpin leaned back, his posture wary.

"All it takes is one cog to break, Headmaster," Thrawn reiterated, "and the whole system grinds to a halt. That cog could be you, or one of the other headmasters, or any random professor. And no matter how wise the mind or qualified the opinion, succession, much less the succession of the world's sole defenders, cannot be based on mere networking."

"You speak of a centralized authority, with ranks and rigidity," Ozpin replied, shaking his head, "Atlas is already trying that. To say it isn't popular is an understatement. Not even in Atlas itself."

"Atlas is doing the exact opposite of what I am suggesting. They are integrating Huntsmen into Atlas's command structure, I propose the Huntsmen have their own."

Ozpin pursed his lips, but didn't stop shaking his head, "It still wouldn't work. Huntsmen are each individuals, with their own goals, ideals, and philosophies. That is the core of our strength, and is taught to them from the moment they could walk all the way to their final graduation. Even if somehow such an authority was sanctioned and created, most, if not the vast majority of Huntsmen and Huntresses would simply ignore said authority."

He leaned back.

"Moreover, I do not feel like turning my academy into paramilitary camp."

"Necessary steps are often the hardest to take," Thrawn countered.

"What you suggest does not require such steps, as such a crisis is nothing less than the single most worst case scenario among a thousand less horrific scenarios," Ozpin rebuked, "It will not happen."

"You plan with great optimism, Headmaster."

"I'm an optimistic man, Grand admiral."

The room descended into silence once more.

After several minutes of tense silence, Ozpin began chuckling, eventually leaning forward and refocusing on Thrawn.

"This was a remarkably fascinating conversation. I disagree with many of your points, but it was fascinating nonetheless. However, I do believe we should get back to the actual topic at hand."

"Agreed," Thrawn, "shall I tell of my purpose, or would you like to ask some questions first?"

That got yet another chuckle out of Ozpin.

"Since you psychoanalyzed me, perhaps I can attempt something similar? It won't be as grand a deduction as your own, but I think I have some clues to work with."

Thrawn inclined his head in agreement.

"Originally," Ozpin began, "when team RWBY brought back their report of your forces at relay 447, I assumed it was some Atlesian force testing ill-thought-out experimental weapons, but a quick conversation with General Ironwood disproved that theory. I'm not so prideful to not admit I was rather stumped for a while after that, but with this Mountain Glenn situation I believe I've managed to narrow it down to two possibilities."

Thrawn arched an eyebrow but didn't interrupt.

"The first option is that you are from an undiscovered kingdom, somehow hidden from the rest of the world where your people then advanced fast enough to match and even exceed Atlas," He scoffed, displaying his opinion on that theory clearly, "That, of course, would entail said hidden nation having managed to remain isolated from the rest of the world for centuries at minimum, with not even rumors managing to reach anywhere else in the world at all, somehow remain entirely self-sufficient for that entire timeframe, somehow advance quicker technologically than atlas with vastly less resources, manpower, time than said city in the sky, and somehow never have discovered aura."

Thrawn leaned back, and Ozpin sported a dry grin.

"Yes Grand Admiral, the Dr noticed your troops' lack of such, and I imagine team RWBY did as well."

He turned and continued, "Anyway, this theory was obviously ridiculous, and the only reason I contemplated it at all was because the only other theory was even more ridiculous. Or it was, until I asked for a certain report from mistral and quickly received and read it for myself. You see, Mistral is home to the world's largest telescope, and thanks to Atlesian assistance, Remnant's most advanced sensors as well. And just as I thought, roughly three days ago these sensors picked up an intense gravitational anomaly on the edge of the solar system."

He shrugged.

"Of course, by the time the observatory had turned their scope to the anomaly's location, whatever it was was long gone. And yet..."

Thrawn was silent for a moment, before grudgingly nodding.

"You are a smart man as well, Headmaster."

"My thanks. There is, however, one problem with this current theory."

"My troops."

"Yes. You are not human, and had I been going with the first theory I'd simply believed you to be a particularly unique faunus. But with this second theory, you are no faunus, but rather an actual alien. So then why are your troops human?"

Thrawn paused, seemingly contemplating before he leaned forward.

"Tell me, when is the earliest recorded signs of human life on Remnant?"

"Fossil evidence points to the homo Auran species having first evolved roughly around 400,000 years ago."

Thrawn's eye slightly widened, (which in turn caused Ozpin's eyes to do the same, as that was the closest thing to surprise he had elicited from the man so far) and quickly leaned forward, "Fossil evidence you say?"

"I do."

"Are you sure?"

Ozpin couldn't resist raising an incredulous eyebrow at that.

"Of course. My apologies. Instead I would ask if there had been a minor, or perhaps not so minor extinction event where a significant portion of your species seemingly vanished? Perhaps some 25,000 to 45,000 years ago?"

Ozpin pondered for several moments before he nodded.

"There are several events that would qualify, but the largest would have been the Xura-Prietu Collapse. The population of almost 2 dozen city-states abruptly vanished seemingly overnight."

"And I'm guessing your people never found an explanation for these disappearances, did they?"

"On the contrary, it is widely believed to have been caused by one of the first major world-wide Grimm surges. Those tend to leave plenty of evidence."

"I can imagine. But do your historians know what caused the Grimm surge?"

"Now that," he admitted, "is a mystery."

Thrawn inclined his head, "I thought so. You see, during that time this region of space was dominated by a species called the Rakata and their ironically named Infinite Empire. They were slavers and monsters all, and stole many species off their homeworlds to use a forced labor all across the galaxy. When their empire eventually did fall, their former slaves lived on, and most continue to this day. Humans are one of many in that respect."

"And that's why your men are humans."

"Indeed. If anything, I am the outlier. Humans are far more prominent than most other species."

"I'll take your word for it. I suppose that answers that, so the only remaining question is why are you here?"

"To offer you freedom of course. I am part of an expedition from the Galactic Empire, tasked with exploring, unifying, and pacifying this region of space."

"Pacifying?"

"Certainly. There are many powers in this region that follow the Rakatan's example. Alone, a newly space-capable species will be lucky if they just kill you. If you're unlucky, they'll enslave you and use you as livestock. If you're really unlucky they'll… well, you get the idea."

I… see. You would offer for us to join this… Galactic Empire?"

"No. At least not immediately. Instead, I would offer you to join the Empire of the Hand, a protectorate of the Galactic Empire made up of all the species and worlds this expedition has united over the past several years. Many in the Hand were in similar situations as yourselves. Alone, and surrounded by unfriendly neighbours."

Ozpin hesitated, seemingly unsure of his next question, "Would- would the hand allow us to leave Remnant? To escape the Grimm?"

Thrawn smiled. A true, actual smile. 'Got you.'

I can personally assure you that the Hand would not only be willing to provide the ability of any Remnantian to migrate to a less… hazardous home should they wish. In addition, the hand would likewise be willing to provide military support for those who wish to stay."

"And this would entail formally integrating into the Hand?"

"Naturally."

Ozpin paused, tapping his fingers on his desk.

"I cannot make a decision of this magnitude on my own, I don't have the authority. I must bring this to the council."

"I expected as much. My shuttle has supplies, I can stay for several weeks if need be."

"They will want proof."

Thrawn arched an eyebrow.

"A space empire? Malevolent aliens? Sudden integration offers? I've already had several days to get used to the idea of aliens flying above, and I'm still having some difficulty wrapping my head around it. My colleagues in the council are decidedly less flexible in their mindsets."

Thrawn paused, turning to look out the window towards the city.

"I can arrange proof easily enough if need be."

Ozpin got up and moved beside him, looking out at the kingdom he's protected all his life.

"Can you do so without alarming the public?"

Thrawn turned his gaze upward, "What is the weather supposed to be tonight?"

"Clear as far as I'm aware."

"Good. At midnight have the council grab some telescopes and look up towards the moon. Your proof will be there."

Ozpin sighed, "I guess I've got to go buy some telescopes."

Thrawn offered a slight grin before turning and heading towards the elevator. Before he entered though Ozpin spoke up one last time.

"You didn't tell me everything did you?"

Thrawn stopped, but didn't turn around.

"And did you, Headmaster?"

"No, I didn't."

"Then we have something in common. After all-," he affirmed, finally turning back to face Ozpin, "it is like you said back on the land pad. One does not reveal everything on the first meeting. Information will be revealed as we become more familiar with each other. But until then…"

With a final nod he turned and entered the elevator, sending it down with the tap of a button. As he neared the bottom, he idly wondered if this Glynda he's heard so much about would be willing to host one more tour.

It truly was a beautiful campus.