I do not own RWBY or Warhammer 40,000, only my original characters.

IMPORTANT NOTICE! BEFORE YOU START READING, PLEASE GO BACK AND READ CHAPTERS 3 AND 5, AS THEY FEATURE SCENES THAT HAVE BEEN SIGNFICANTLY EDITED!

Sorry this took so long again, haven't had much drive to write, and when I do get it, its mostly in spurts. Hope everyone is doing alright with the corona virus, my family has already lost someone to it, but I hope you all have not suffered the same. My prayers go out to any of you that are being affecting by the virus, and may God watch over us all in this trying time.

Onto the story.

Return of Faith

Chapter Eight: All in a Day's Work

There was a reason why Grimm usually didn't last long in captivity; they just never knew when to give up. Even if there was no chance of escape a Grimm would continue to throw itself against the bars until either they gave out or it did. This lack of self-preservation is one of many reasons why so many people think Grimm are stupid beasts that anyone with a gun and the sense to aim could deal with, so long as they didn't attack in large numbers.

Indeed, Most of the Grimm they had locked up in their camp fell into the stereotypical category of "dangerous but dumb", trying will all they had to break, bite, or dig their way out of their cages. Most of them. A few were more… compliant, sitting motionlessly or pacing back and forth within the cramped confines of their cages, only giving in to their violent nature whenever someone accidently got too close. These Grimm were patient predators, more than capable of biding their time for the perfect moment to strike.

Needless to say, these Grimm were watched carefully by their captors. The last thing the White Fang needed was a bunch of loose Grimm rampaging through their camp.

Still, Liam wished Leader Taurus had picked someone else to take the late-night shift instead of him. It was getting cold.

The wolf-faunus eyed one of these more "docile" Grimm with a glare, which it returned three-fold. The beast was a beowolf alpha, older and larger than most of its kind and much, much deadlier. Rumor had it that alphas were smarter than other Grimm, and with the way it was looking at him, Liam was keen to believe it.

It was planning something; he just knew it. His finger slid down to the trigger of his Dust-thrower and he shifted his gaze down to check the settings dial again. It was on blue, like every other time Liam had checked it. He turned back to the Grimm in its cage, it hadn't taken its eyes off him.

"Stop looking at me," He growled at the Grimm, his hand trailing over to the dial on his weapon's side, waiting for an excuse to turn it to red and bathe the bastard in a wash of flames. The alpha didn't even blink. He narrowed his eyes at the beast, fingers gripping the dial…

"You know it can't understand you, right?" The words broke the standoff between Liam and the Grimm, returning the man to reality. He eased his hand away from the dial, and looked over at the other faunus assigned to guard this alpha Grimm.

Although she wore the same uniform and mask as Liam, Sakura still looked out of place to the older White Fang member. She was a Vale local, having joined the White Fang only a few weeks ago during a rather eventful recruitment rally, if the rumors were to be believed. She was green as grass, all the recruits were, and with the Vale chapter effectively cut off from High Leader Khan at this point, Leader Taurus had turned to more traditional methods of training. Each of the new bloods was to be placed under the command of an experienced Fang member who would teach their charge everything they needed to know in order to further the White Fang's cause.

And Liam had just been unlucky enough to considered experienced enough to qualify.

It wasn't that he disliked the girl, Sakura was a quick learner and a firm believer in the cause. The problem was that wasn't all she was a believer in.

"It understands me, Sakura," He told the young dog-faunus, turning back to glare at the caged beast. "It understands we're what's keeping it from breaking out of there. It understands what the weapons in our hands can do to it. And it understands that we need it alive." As he said that last part, he swore the thing grinned at him.

"What makes you say that?" She asked, trying to hide her discomfort from him.

"Because the damned thing hasn't moved an inch since it woke up."

She didn't say anything back and a silence fell over the pair, punctuated by crickets, nocturnal animal cries, and the furious snarling of the other Grimm they had locked up in the camp. The noise reminded Liam of a dog kennel his mother had taken him to when he was a boy. He remembered how afraid he felt when the dogs started barking, how he could barely hear anything above their noise, how scared he was that they would break out of their cages and attack him.

They didn't of course, and Liam and his mother had left the kennel, happy with the dog they had picked out. A melancholic smile spread across his lips. He really missed Solly sometimes, she'd been a good dog.

His reminiscing was cut short when he heard Sakura whispering something. Liam almost didn't hear it through the Grimms' snarling and howling, but in the short breaks between their cries he could hear her muttering under her breathe.

His smile was replaced with a frown when realized what Sakura was doing. He moved over to the younger White Fang and smacked her arm, cutting off her mutterings. Not ten seconds later, a guard patrol passed by them, weapons at the ready and eyes on the caged Grimm. Liam waited until they were out of sight before he rounded on the girl. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What? A girl can't pray for protection when her partner freaks her out?" Snapped Sakura.

"She can't when the god she prays to calls for the genocide of her own fucking people!" He snarled back, baring his teeth at the girl.

He realized his mistake too late when Sakura didn't flinch away. "That's not true!" She hissed back at him. "The Emperor loves the faunus!"

Liam rolled his eyes behind his mask. "Sure, he does," He said, not even trying to hide his insincerity. "Why else would we have the honor of being humanity's scapegoat whenever something bad happens? Now shut up and watch the Grimm." He turned away from her before she could answer, not wanting to deal with any more of her religious bullshit.

She glared at him for a while longer before turning her attention back to the encaged Grimm. Liam bit back a sigh. Sakura wasn't alone in her worship of the God-Emperor, a surprising number of the other Vale recruits shared the girl's faith, much to everyone else's' disgust. Things never went too far between the two parties, but the tension in the camp had been almost palpable. Liam shuddered to think what might have happened if Leader Taurus hadn't sent the majority of those throne-worshipping freaks over to Mountain Glenn. Probably would have tried to burn everyone at the stake for being heretics, or something like that.

Still, they hadn't deserved what happened to them. They had been faunus like him, sure they were religious zealots, but they had joined the White Fang for the same reasons he and so many others had, to strike back against the humans who treated them like animals. They had believed in the righteousness of their cause, as much as they believed in their god-emperor. Even knowing how dangerous Mountain Glenn was they had left with their heads held high, ready to do their part and take their revenge against a government that had despised and hunted them for generations.

He couldn't help but admire that about them, even if they worshipped a god that hated their species.

"The Emperor doesn't hate us, Liam." Sakura blurted out, as if reading his mind. "He loves us, more than He loves the humans, and they know it. In the Emperor's eyes, we are the favored race on Remnant. That's why they lie about the Emperor hating the faunus, because they are jealous of us."

He almost didn't respond, but the way she spoke, the surety in her voice, it riled something inside him. "Then why doesn't he do something about it?" He snapped; eyes locked on to that damn grinning Grimm in front of them. "If the emperor loves us as much as you say he does, why doesn't he use his godly powers to wipe out the Grimm and humans for us? Drown them in a flood, or release a plague on them?"

"Why haven't your false gods done anything about them?" She quickly bit back, obviously familiar with his argument. "The Emperor is helping us, Liam, in His own, subtle way. why else do you think we haven't been discovered yet?"

"Because everyone's too busy with the Vytal Festival to bother looking for a bunch of faunus hiding in the woods." A fact that Liam still found both incredible and insulting. The White Fang had breached Vale's entire defense grid, led a swarm of Grimm right into the heart of the city and what does the Council do? Have the Huntsmen and Atlas military deal with it, give general of said military a pat on the back for saving the day, go back to preparing for the Vytal Festival, and act like the whole thing didn't even happen.

Sure, that General Ironoak, or whatever his name was, was using his army to beef up security in the city, but only in the city. Any towns or villages on the outskirts of Vale's city limits were left alone, despite the fact that if another Grimm attack came, those settlements would be hit first.

Not that Council would care if it happened.

"No," Sakura responded, apparently not amused by his answer. "It is because the Emperor–"

A loud explosion cut off her monologue before it could start. Both faunus turned their heads back to the camp, where already a dark plume of smoke could be seen billowing into the night sky. Before either of them could do respond there was another explosion, followed by another, and another. It stopped after the seventh, but by then the fires had started to spread. Tents and supply crates burned while several unlucky faunus ran or lay face down in the dirt, their bodies awash with flames.

Desperate shouts and screams filled the night air as the White Fang scrambled to deal with the blaze overtaking their camp. Cries for help mixed with barked orders of officers and the roaring of the flames, meshing together into a desperate cacophony that Liam's instincts told him to run away from. He didn't.

The wolf-faunus ran toward the burning camp with Sakura close at his heels. The other faunus tasked with guarding the Grimm were also running toward the fire, their Dust-throwers primed and ready. Stopping in front of a burning tent, Liam leveled the muzzle of his weapon at the flames and pulled the trigger. A miniaturized blizzard spewed forth, freezing wind and ice crystals meeting the raging fire with the hissing clash of opposing elements. The flames danced wildly in defiance of the cold, but were ultimately subdued. Liam didn't stop to admire his handiwork however and moved fast to put out another fire. Steam replaced smoke as the fires were drowned in subzero temperatures and ice particles and calm seemed to have finally returned.

That was when the howling started, followed by the one thing nobody on Remnant ever wants to hear.

"GRIMM INCOMING!"

They came in from the surrounding forest on all sides, barreling forward at full speed, and were inside the camp before anyone could blink. Sounds of combat quickly filled the air as the White Fang fought to repel the assault. Liam cursed as he turned the dial on his Dust-thrower to yellow and swung it around to bathe a charging ursa in angry forks of lightning. The monster's body locked up, causing it to trip and tumble onto the ground as its nervous system was flooded with lethal amounts of electricity. It convulsed violently as it died, muscles spasming uncontrollably even as it evaporated into nothingness.

"Sakura!" Liam cried out, "Head over to the north end of camp and provide support. I'll hold things down here –AGH?!"

The wolf faunus let out a bark of surprise as he was sent sprawling to the ground from an unseen blow to the head. His skull throbbed with pain and his vision was swimming, but he wasn't about to let that stop him. With a groan he dragged himself to his knees, hand pressed against his temple to try and alleviate the pain. That was when he noticed something, laying there on the ground. At first, Liam couldn't make out anything about other than its vaguely round shape, but after a moment to allow his vision to clear, he could see-

He fell backwards with a horrified gasp at the sight of Sakura's severed head. The girl's mask was gone, and sky-blue eyes stared up at Liam unobstructed with a look of pure surprise. Liam stared back, expression mirroring her own.

He didn't know how long he stayed like that, gaping like a dying fish, but it was evidently for too long. The steady thud of heavy steps and a bone-chilling growl broke Liam from his stupor. He should have gone for his Dust-thrower, he should have picked the weapon up and bathed whatever was stalking in a torrent of electricity. He should have, but he didn't.

Instead, he turned around and instantly froze. The large beowolf Alpha halted its stride a just few yards from where the faunus lay, burning red eyes studying him with malicious intent. Neither moved for what felt like an eternity, locked in some unseen battle of wills.

Then it grinned at him.

And the last thing Liam saw before his world fell into darkness was the Alpha lunging at him with its jaws wide open.

~o0o~

Half a mile away, nestled in the branches of a large tree and draped in the color bending weave of his cameleoline cloak, Yole watched through the lenses of his magnoculars as the abhuman camp fall into chaos. The tree was located on the side of one of the region's many mountains, providing the Inquisitorial agent with a perfect view of the valley, and White Fang camp, below.

He would give them this, they had chosen their campsite well. It was isolated and well hidden, far enough from Vale that they wouldn't draw any unwanted attention but close enough for their Bullhead transports to reach the city within minutes. It was large too. Yole wagered there had to be at least three hundred, maybe five hundred, fighters down there. As the Grimm continued to pour in however, he wondered how many would be left come dawn.

It hadn't been too hard for the Inquisitorial agent to locate the camp. Though the majority of the White Fang had abandoned Vale in the wake of the failed Grimm Breach several weeks ago, a few had remained to guard key safehouses and dispose of sensitive information. It had been child's play for Yole to track down one of these guards and 'persuade' him to share what he knew with the Inquisitorial agent.

Infiltrating the camp had been even less of an issue, much to his chagrin. Getting past the sentries had been entertaining enough, thanks largely to their night vision, but after that it was disappointingly smooth. Camouflaged in the uniform of the now long dead safehouse guard, no one suspected his true nature. Many of the faunus he passed by just acknowledged him with a glance or curt greeting while others were too engrossed in other matters to care. The irony of it all wasn't lost on him.

He headed for their airfield first, though calling it that was being generous. The patch of red grass was occupied by the idle forms of over a dozen Bullhead transports. They were plain, unassuming craft with light armor and weapons but also powerful engines and surprising maneuverability. Bullheads were also highly customizable and cheap to produce, making them a common sight in Remnant's commercial and private sectors. This also made them perfect dropships for paramilitary groups like the White Fang.

Yole got to work immediately. He worked with a subtlety born from decades of subterfuge and espionage, planting explosive on as many Bullheads as he could. He fixed most of the charges to the cockpits or wings, ensuring they inflicted the most damage. A few he even managed to plant inside the dropships. Unfortunately, Yole only had a limited number of charges with him and the airfield wasn't his only target. With one charge left and over half the Bullheads primed to explode, he headed for the camp's armory.

On his way there Yole took note of several White Fang personnel that stood out from the rest. They wore unique masks and highly customized versions of the standard White Fang uniform. They were also armed with the strange "mechashift" weapons so common among Remnant's elite warrior caste, despite their impracticality. They were most likely officers or special forces of some kind, given their heavily personalized equipment and dress. Extreme caution would need to be exercised in dealing with them.

It took him a bit longer than he would have liked to locate the armory tent, but when he did Yole found it even less guarded than the airfield with only a single guard standing at the entrance. It was almost embarrassing how easy it was for him to get inside, a quick lie about a Grimm eating his weapon and he was in. The moment the guard turned her back Yole had honestly considered killing her. Her death would reveal the presence of an infiltrator in the camp, putting everyone on high alert and forcing him to put in some real Emperor-damned effort!

He did consider it, he really did, but knew it ultimately wasn't worth it. The mission's success took precedence over his own desires. With a quiet sigh of resignation, Yole stepped into the armory tent, planted his last explosive charge inside a crate of red Dust crystals, picked up a spare rifle resting on a weapon's rack, and left. Though he was very tempted to shoot the guard when she called out, "try not to lose that one, rookie!"

She was nothing but a charred corpse now, much to the infiltrator's satisfaction.

With the last of the charges set Yole left the camp, his mission complete. On his way out he spotted what had to be the command tent. It was much larger than the hab-tents and heavily decorated with White Fang iconography. The four heavily armed guards standing outside were also somewhat of a giveaway. Curious, and not one to give up on valuable information, the Imperial agent changed his course to take him behind the command tent. He moved carefully, not wanting to arouse suspicion from the guards or any other White Fang nearby as he strained his ears to listen in on whatever was being discussed inside.

He heard eager voices behind the canvas wall, restless and ready. They spoke of attacking early, without the aid of their… benefactor? That had been Interesting. A man spoke, his voice softer yet stronger than the rest, advising patience and promising glory in the attack yet to come. A zealot if he had ever heard one. Yole backed away from the tent soon after that, content with what he had learned. He could have stayed longer, maybe even steal a few vital documents while their backs were turned, but doing so would risk jeopardizing this whole outing of his.

And while the inherent challenge of a time limit excited Yole greatly, he once more pushed those desires aside in favor of the bigger picture. He was a professional, after all.

Yole left the camp as easily as he had entered it, sneaking past the patrolling sentries with a feline's grace as he made his way to the tree he was now perched upon. He had stashed much of his equipment here prior to entering the camp, including the detonator for the bombs. A risk to be sure, but one he felt he had to take if he wanted this to feel like an actual mission and not a chore.

Regardless, whether it felt like a mission or a chore, the results spoke for themselves

With over half their transports destroyed, nearly their entire stockpile of weapons and ammunition up in flames, and the Grimm bearing down on them like a mob of battle-starved Orks, the White Fang were all but removed from the Vale theatre. Even if their mysterious benefactor managed to resupply them with new weapons and vehicles, such things were useless without soldiers to wield them.

Minutes passed slowly as the fighting dragged on. However, now that the initial shock of the attack had worn off, Yole noted with some confusion that the Grimm were inflicting fewer causalities than he'd anticipated. Through the green-lit lenses of his magnoculars, Yole saw faunus shrug off what should have been fatal blows. One of the abhumans, their features blurred by distance, was sent flying back by the swing of a beowolf's claws. The attack should have disemboweled them, instead, the abhuman scrambled back to their feet, unharmed save for a shredded uniform.

Goosebumps ran across Yole's skin as understanding dawned on him and he hissed out a curse. Aura. He'd forgotten to take Aura into account. The supernatural ability that allowed the denizens of this backwater rock to manipulate their own souls to achieve superhuman feats like shrugging off direct hits from a rifle or the eviscerating claws of the local fauna. And he, an agent of the God-Emperor's Throne-damned Inquisition, had forgotten to account for its use among a group of abhuman insurgents.

He was never going to live this down if Yuria found out.

Still, even if they suffered fewer casualties than he'd have liked, the White Fang were no longer an immediate threat, not that they really had been to start with. What had they hoped to achieve by attacking a heavily defended city with only a few hundred soldiers? Perhaps they had planned on using their captured Grimm as distractions, luring the defenders away from key targets in the city and allow the White Fang to slip through unnoticed. Maybe it wasn't Vale that was their target, but the local Huntsman Schola, Beacon. Maybe their plan had been to strike the Schola during the Festival and slaughter the progena inside as a way to show themselves superior to the over-glorified mercenaries of this world.

Or maybe, like the daemons whose likeness they wear, they just wanted a chance to kill humans.

It didn't matter now. After tonight, only two options were left to the White Fang: either they relocate to a more secure location and continue preparing or they abandon their plans to attack Vale and evacuate. Honestly, it really wasn't much of a choice. If their hatred for humanity hasn't blinded them beyond all reason, they would cut their losses and leave the Kingdom. To stay would be suicide, not martyrdom, serving only to strengthen the image of the faunus as little more than rabid animals.

If they were sensible, but everything he had seen and heard inside the camp supported the contrary. The abhumans in that camp were zealots, they wanted a fight. In their minds, they were the victims in all of this. All the deaths they would cause, all the misery they would bring, none of it would their fault. It would be humanity's fault, because they pushed the White Fang to become the monsters they now were.

A child's argument, and one they would never get to make.

As the fighting died down and the last of the Grimm were dealt with, Yole pulled out his Scroll and dialed the contact number for Vale's law enforcers. "Hello this is the Vale Police Department, what is your emergency?"

"I need to get in contact with the Atlas fleet immediately!" Yole demanded in a panicked, hushed voice. "I have information about the White Fang!"

"Sir, I need you to calm down," The woman instructed, sounding more attentive with the mention of the White Fang. "Can you tell me what you mean by–"

Yole cut her off with a snarl. "There's no time! You need to tell General Ironwood: The White Fang are in Forever Falls, northwestern sector. My name is Stanley Flynt, I'm a Huntsman. My license number is 785216, but you need–AGh!" pair of gunshots loudly interrupted Yole as he fired in to the air with the stolen Dust rifle. "They've found me! P-please, don't let them–" another, final gunshot "silenced" Yole.

"Hello? Hello!? Sir, are you still there!? Are you alright!?" Yole didn't answer. He waited a few seconds before terminating the call, once he heard the woman call out for someone to contact the Atlas fleet. Pocketing his Scroll away, Yole climbed down from his perch and collected his gear. While the fighting down in the camp may have ensured none of the abhumans heard those gunshots the same could not be said for the Grimm. Once everything was secured Yole disappeared into the forest, satisfied with how well his plan had played out.

Meanwhile, miles away in Vale, the VPD scrambled to convey Stanley Flynt's discovery to their Atlesian allies. When the information reached General Iroonwood, he ordered a scouting party sent to Forever Falls, and when they radioed back with confirmation of the White Fang's presence the General did not hesitate. Ironwood personally led a third of his fleet to Forever Falls, determined to eliminate the White Fang threat to Vale once and for all.

They arrived to find the White Fang camp already in ruins, just as the scouts had reported. Rather than question the current state of his enemy, the General chalked it up to the Grimm and gave the order for his forces to engage. The sky lit up as the Atlesian warships and their escorts bombarded the White Fang's position with extreme prejudice. Heavy chainguns and Dust autocannons lit up the night sky with tracer lights as the camp below was blasted into oblivion. A few faunus managed to escape past the tree line before the guns opened up, but the rest weren't so lucky. Explosions and screams echoed through the air. Body parts were blown off and sent flying. It felt as if they were caught in the middle of the end of the world.

Then the guns went quiet. And the Knights were deployed.

Dropping into the camp with the subtlety of a brick tossed at window, the Atlesian Knights began searching for survivors immediately. With emotionless efficiency the machine soldiers of Atlas tracked down the remaining faunus, capturing any they could find that surrendered or were incapable of posing a threat. The rest were eliminated without mercy.

When the General and his men returned to Vale the next day, and the news of his victory over the White Fang was made public, the whole city seemed to let out a sigh of relief. For months, the people of Vale had been living in fear as criminals and terrorists ran rampant through their streets, helpless to do anything but run and hide. But thanks to the Atlas military, that wasn't the case anymore. Now, a man could once again walk the streets of Vale at night without fear of being assaulted by masked madmen. Dust store owners would no longer have to worry about their entire stock being stolen. People could look forward to Vytal Festival as the celebration it was and not as the distraction it provided.

Finally, life in Vale could return to normal.

~o0o~

"All hail the conquering hero," muttered the headmaster of Beacon Academy as he looked out at the city he had once ruled, and the foreign warships looming over it. The quote was old and despite the many lives he had lived, Ozpin could not quite remember where he had heard it. Still, it was a fitting one.

"He's certainly not adverse to the title," agreed his assistant and confidante as she skimmed through the dozens of news channels already reporting on James' success. She let out a sigh that turned into a yawn as she read the title link of a particularly colorful news article. "They're acting like we just won a war."

If only that were the case, Ozpin thought to himself.

For the people of Vale, it might as well be. The White Fang and Roman Torchwick had been a scourge upon this city for months, spreading chaos and devastating the economy. Now, the latter was locked up inside James' ship and the former had been annihilated by James' army. It had felt like a war, it was a war, but what the news reporters and journalists did not know was that it was far from won. It wasn't their fault, of course, and truthfully, it was better this way. Rather happy ignorance than terrifying reality.

James had no such excuse, however. He was aware of the true threat they all faced, yet he still insisted on rushing in, guns blazing. The White Fang had taken great pains to disappear from Vale in the wake of the Breach, and yet a lone Huntsman managed to find their hidden base and call it in? It had reeked of a trap and Ozpin had told James as much when he contacted the Beacon Headmaster with the news last night.

Ozpin had implored his friend to wait and consider the bigger picture, but James would not be dissuaded from his decision. He rejected Ozpin's advice, stating they did not have the luxury of waiting and that inaction was exactly what she wanted from them. Before he cut the link, James then assured Ozpin that he would be ready for any tricks the White Fang had up their sleeves, completely ignoring the fact that it wasn't the White Fang that Ozpin was concerned about.

And as the general of Atlas's army charged headfirst into the manticore's jaws, the headmaster of Beacon Academy prepared for the worst. The school's automated defense systems were brought online, stirring life into the many turrets and hardlight shield projectors hidden all over Beacon. Ozpin alerted Glynda to the situation, rudely waking the disciplinarian from her slumber and demanding her immediate presence. He considered waking the other professors, but knew that doing so would raise questions among his staff, questions that he could not answer.

He appraised Glynda of the situation when she arrived, ignoring her disheveled appearance. He resisted the urge to sigh when she questioned his decision to activate Beacon's defenses, acting like he was overreacting. Instead, Ozpin waved her doubts aside, attributing them to her interrupted sleep. The glare he felt boring into the back of his skull enforced this belief. Ozpin chose to ignore it, keeping his focus on the city nestled safely beneath his school.

Everything was set. Beacon was ready. All he could do now was wait.

And so, Ozpin waited.

He waited for James' ships to never return, for that final panicked transmission of warning. He waited for the White Fang to soar over the horizon in a fleet of gunships, unleashing death and destruction upon the city he had once ruled. He waited for Salem to finally make her move.

But the move never came.

When dawn broke over the city, it was not an enemy fleet or a swarm of Grimm that approached Vale, but the general and his forces returning from their successful mission. Shock and relief had warred within Ozpin as he watched James' ships resume their positions in his fleet, only to be buried by questions and suspicions. What had happened out there? How had he defeated the White Fang? Did he learn anything from their camp? All these questions and more filled Ozpin's thoughts, while Glynda took the liberty to deactivate the defense systems before any of the students could wake up.

Ozpin had resisted the urge to grab his Scroll and call James. If he did that, he would only further embolden his military friend. Instead, Ozpin waited for James to contact him. Despite the power he had been granted by the Council, James was not above Beacon's Headmaster. By having him reach out first it would help maintain that relationship of leader and lieutenant. At least, he hoped it would.

When James finally reached out, several hours had passed. Under Ozpin's request, Glynda spent the time until then analyzing the situation in hopes of better understanding how and why this had come to pass, and if the unease he felt was justified. What she found was rather… concerning.

A green light flashed on the corner of his desk accompanied by a soft chime that alerted Ozpin to an incoming call. Knowing who it was, the headmaster took his seat and pressed the accept key. A holographic screen came to life just above his desk with the face of the Atlas General framed within. Ozpin had expected James to be proud, his expression one of triumph as he boasted to the two Beacon professors of his victory over the White Fang. It stood to reason, he had been adamant about taking action against them, after all.

And yet, when James appeared on his screen, he looked just as troubled as Ozpin felt.

"General," Ozpin greeted, keeping his voice calm and level.

"Ozpin," James tried to copy his tone, but his centuries of experience allowed Ozpin to pick out hints of worry and wounded pride from just the utterance of his name. Interesting. James then nodded his head toward Glynda. "Glynda."

The assistant Headmistress narrowed her eyes at the general. "So kind of you to finally contact us, General," she replied, her words laced with venom from her lack of sleep. "I hope we aren't taking time away from your interview preparations."

James merely bowed his head in concession, "I apologize, but I believed it prudent that the people of Vale hear some good news before the Festival starts." He looked back to Ozpin. "They need it after everything that's happened."

The Headmaster of Beacon raised an eyebrow at his friend, but nodded in agreement. Despite his reservations, the boost in morale this would cause could not be ignored. While Torchwick's crime spree had been a serious problem, it was not until the White Fang became involved that things became notably worse. The number of Grimm attacks along Vale's borders have been rising ever since news of their involvement was made public, forcing many outlying towns and villages to hire Huntsmen for protection. Few licensed Huntsmen were left in Vale, the rest were all practicing their trade, leaving a foreign army and a school of inexperienced children as the city's only defense.

But with the White Fang now gone, there was hope that that would change. Still… "What happened out there, James?"

James was quiet for a moment. "Nothing." He finally answered. "The White Fang were caught completely off guard by our attack. We bombarded their camp and sent in Knights to apprehend any survivors. There was next to no resistance from the enemy and my men suffered zero casualties."

Ozpin frowned behind his steepled hands. Use of overwhelming force was among James' favorite tactics and had proven its effectiveness against Grimm hordes many times in the past. A victory claimed through such means, especially against one of her pawns, should have vindicated the general. Instead, he sounded – to borrow one of Qrow's phrases – like he just found out he got played and didn't want to admit it.

"Were you hoping for a different outcome?" Glynda asked, picking up on the General's mood.

"I was expecting a camp full of heavily armed terrorists," James snapped, not appreciating Glynda's insinuations. "Instead, I found this," Several images flashed onto the holographic screen, depicting a scene of carnage. Wrecked Bullheads lay smoldering in what looked like an impromptu airfield. Burned down tents and destroyed prefabricated structures outnumbered those still intact. Broken cages and rows of small, blanket covered mounds that Ozpin instantly realized were laid out corpses yet to be buried. It was like something taken straight from the battlefields of the Great War.

"These were taken before I ordered the bombardment of the camp," James said, his brow furrowing as he inspected the pictures himself for what could not be the first time. "Interrogation of White Fang prisoners and postliminary analysis of the campsite confirmed that the White Fang had been attacked prior to our arrival."

Ozpin frowned, unsure of what to make of this information. His first instinct was to blame the Grimm, but that didn't seem right. The majority of the vehicles had been destroyed by explosives, not torn apart by Grimm claws. His mind instantly went to Salem and her agents next, but that too didn't feel right. Salem was no stranger to abandoning her minions when they could no longer be of use to her, but only after making sure they could pose no threat to her or her plans. This didn't feel like that however, it was too… direct.

"Do you have any leads on who or what was behind this?" Ozpin asked, wanting to hear his friend's own thoughts.

"Yes and no," James answered. "We know from the prisoners that the Creatures of Grimm launched an attack on the camp just a few hours before we arrived. They believe they were drawn in by the panic."

"Panic?" Repeated Glynda, her normally stern expression giving way to concern.

James nodded. "Before the Grimm attacked, a number of explosions went off in the camp. From what we've gathered, most of the initial damage was focused on their airfield and armory. The detonation within the armory caused a chain reaction by detonating the Dust housed inside it, leading to the rest of the camp being set ablaze. And as the White Fang scrambled to put out these fires, the Grimm struck."

"Ensuring that when you arrived, you'd find an already beaten enemy, incapable of fighting back." Ozpin watched his old colleague's jaw clench at his words. It was not difficult to figure out why. "Well done, James."

The genuine sincerity within his voice caused James to blink and Glynda to whip her head toward the headmaster, a questioning expression on both their faces. "Thanks to your efforts, the White Fang have been pushed out of Vale and the people can once again walk the streets without fear." As he spoke, Ozpin rose from his desk and walked over to the massive window that overlooked Vale. He gazed out at the city that once belonged to him, back to his two comrades. "I'll see what I can do about having the Council award you with a medal. It's the least I can do."

"A med- Ozpin, what?!"

"Didn't you hear what he said?!"

They reacted in a rather predictable manner.

"I am fully aware of what the General is implying, Glynda," He said with calm seriousness, his eyes fixed on the city. "And believe me, I share your concerns. But this unknown party, this new player in our game has shown himself to be both cunning and ruthless. We do not know his capabilities or his motivations. We have no idea if he is only one man or three, or if he is aware of the True Enemy. All we do know is that he is no friend to the White Fang and is, at best, wary of us." Ozpin let out a quiet sigh before turning around and fixing his two friends with a grim expression. "We must tread carefully, but do not forget who the True Enemy is. Understand?"

They hesitated for a moment before giving their assent. "Excellent. Oh, and before I forget, James, Glynda has something for you." The sudden shift in tone seemed to stun the two, and Ozpin smiled for their benefit. "During your little excursion, we did a bit of detective work and found a few things that you'll no doubt find useful. I'll have her send it over to you later today."

Glynda blinked, no doubt remembering the hours of investigation work the two had subjected themselves to during the General's absence. Her fingers danced across the screen of her Scroll as she prepared the files for him.

"Stay vigilant, James. Whether I like it or not, you and your army are our best defense right now. Keep my city safe."

James visibly straightened at his words, "My men will do their duty."

"See that they do." He bid the General farewell, turning to Glynda as the holographic screen blinked out of existence. He looked at her with a mischievous smile. "Why don't you let Port take over your classes for today? You look exhausted."

Glynda glared at the headmaster, but chose not rebuke him as she walked to the elevator, fingers still dancing across her Scroll. Once the doors closed behind her, Ozpin dropped the smile and turned back to the window. His reflection greeted him. Though he was nowhere near as disheveled as Glynda, his own fatigue was glaringly obvious. Dark circles ringed his eyes and a coarse field of stubble had sprouted along his chin and upper lip. He needed rest himself it seemed.

Later, though.

There was still work to be done.

~o0o~

The clash of steel on steel echoed through the private training chamber as the specialist dueled her opponent. Sweat caked her body and stained her blue-white training clothes, and her breathing was loud and heavy. Her limbs ached for rest, but she ignored it as she made to thrust at her opponent once again.

The machine across from her reacted perfectly to her attack. As she closed in, it raised its own weapon to deflect her thrust while effortlessly sidestepping to avoid her follow up attack with her parry dagger. It moved to go on the offensive, but the specialist did not relent. She ducked underneath its swing and swept her right leg out, displacing its footing. The machine staggered, but would not remain so for long. Muscles screaming, she brought her saber about to slash it across the machine's metal chassis.

It had anticipated this however. Just as the blade was about to make contact, the machine reacted. It pushed itself away, using the momentum of its stumbling to dodge her strike. Out of immediate harm, the machine regained its balance and retaliated with a forward thrust. The specialist dodged to the right, falling into the machine's feint. The blade's trajectory changed mid thrust, the mechanical limb holding it rotating on its elbow joint to intercept the specialist. The motion was unnatural, and would have seen her opponent's arm snapped off, had it been human.

The specialist brought up her dagger to deflect the blow, grunting from the effort it required. A split-second opening was made in its defense and she swung her saber upwards in a bisecting arc. The screech metal cutting through metal echoed through the chamber as a long gash was added to the machine's already damaged torso frame.

Despite the size and look of the new rent, the damage was mostly superficial and easily repaired. However, it was enough for the purposes of her training. A low, humming chime echoed through the chamber and a green light buzzed on a nearby scoreboard displaying both the specialist and her robotic foe. Following this, a synthetic feminine voice announced: "Winner: Winter Schnee."

A sigh escaped Winter's lips, much louder than she would have preferred. At the declaration of victory, Winter's mechanical opponent, a more advanced model of Atlas' Tutorial-class sparring robot, went into standby mode. She made to activate it for another bout, but paused when she saw the damage that she had inflicted on it.

Rents, dents, and slashes marred the robot's armored frame like geographic features on a map. Tutorial bots could take a serious amount of punishment, they were designed to challenge Huntsmen after all, but there was a limit to what they could take. Their programming was also very basic when compared to the Knights. Still, they served their purpose well enough, this one more than most.

Winter placed her dagger back in her saber and walked over to a nearby bench where a bottle of water and a fresh towel awaited her. As she wiped her face clean of sweat, she heard the door open behind her. She turned to see a junior officer standing in the doorway, an active Scroll in her hands.

The officer saluted sharply, and despite the ache in her muscles, Winter returned it. "At ease." She said, trying not to sound too out of breath.

The junior officer lowered her arm, but remained at attention. Winter approved of this. "Sir, orders from General Ironwood," she reported without prompting, holding out the Scroll for Winter to take.

Her fatigue was forgotten momentarily as she took the device, scanning through its contents. When she finished, she looked up at the junior officer, ice-blue eyes meeting emerald green. "See to it that my ship is fueled and my crew ready is ready for departure."

The officer saluted again and turned sharply, her braided white hair nearly slapping Winter in the face. She frowned as the woman left, but quickly returned her attention to the Scroll in her hands. Her orders fairly simple: accompany the 31st Atlas heavy-infantry regiment as they are transported to Vale while ensuring the safety of the two companies of Paladin battle-mechs they had with them. Upon arrival in Vale, Winter would then report to General Ironwood for further orders.

Winter blinked.

An entire regiment? Along with two full companies of Paladins?

Even to her, that seemed somewhat like overkill, especially given recent events. When word of the General's victory over the White Fang first reached Atlas there was much celebrating. That rabble of murderers and terrorists had always harbored a special hatred for the people of Atlas, and many had lost friends and loved ones to their cowardly attacks, Winter included. The news of the White Fang's was vindicating, in more ways than one.

Ever since Mantle had become Atlas, the other Kingdoms had viewed their northern counterparts with vailed disdain. They saw Atlas' standing army as an unnecessary reminder of the Great War, when the Kingdoms fought one another for foolish reasons. "What use is an army in a time of peace", they would say or, "the Huntsmen will protect us". And whenever Atlas countered these statements with facts and hard truths, Vale, Vacuo, and Mantle would scoff and call them paranoid.

Yet when Vale was breached and the Grimm flooded the city, who was it that came to the people's rescue? Who pushed back the Grimm and saved countless lives? Who tracked down and eliminated the criminals plaguing Vale for the better part of a year?

The Atlas military did!

By Atlesian sweat and blood, Vale and its people were made safe. And by Atlesian sweat and blood would it be kept safe, until the Vytal Festival came to an end.

Still, Winter could not understand why General Ironwood would need a whole regiment and two armored companies. The threat to Vale was neutralized, the remaining White Fang were either captured or fled into the wilderness, the city was safe. So then why?

Winter pushed these treacherous thoughts aside. It was unbecoming of her to question her superior, nor was it her place to. The General always did things for a reason, and this was no exception. She trusted in his judgement and follow his orders, regardless of her own misgivings.

Besides, they had yet to confirm if the camp General Ironwood destroyed was the only one the White Fang had. For all they knew, there could be dozens of camps, scattered all throughout wilderness. If such was the case, then these reinforcements would be necessary in deterring any overly zealous faunus from seeking retribution against Vale.

And even if that wasn't the case… one could never really be too careful on Remnant.

Winter closed the Scroll and set it aside on the bench before grabbing her saber and towel and heading for the showers. As Winter made her way to the women's locker-room, her thoughts shifted to Weiss. Her younger sister was currently enrolled in Beacon Academy, much to their father's chagrin. He had wanted her to attend Atlas, as had Winter, if she was being honest. It would have been safer for her.

Despite that, Weiss seemed to be doing well in Beacon. The letters she sent Winter each week spoke of a growth in both skill and character that made the older sister proud. Yes, it would be good to see Weiss again, to see how far she has come since leaving home, to hear how she was doing in a foreign Kingdom. A smile began to form on Winter's lips as the specialist's thoughts shifted from military matters to her sister and all the things they would discuss.

Perhaps that was why she didn't notice the smell coming from a nearby heating vent.

~o0o~

Author's Note: Sooooo….. Yeah, sorry this took so long. Was working on Grimm Heir for a while, then I sort of just lost the urge to write. Been having that problem a lot lately, ever since I graduated from college. Weird, huh?

Also, yes, I have made significant edits to previous chapters. They've been bugging me for months and I knew I could do better, so I went back and edited them. Actually, posted the edited versions on SpaceBattles first and was holding off here because I didn't want to post a notice… and then I didn't update for like 3 months…. So yeah… sorry about that….

By the way, if anyone has listened or read "Throne of Lies" (And if you haven't you should, its great) that short story was a big inspiration for a significant part of the last scene.

As Always: Please, Fav, Follow, and Review! Thank You!

DeadRich18 Out!