A Fairly Reasonable Crashout (RWBY Adam SI) ch 43

+++

Mistral burned.

Not its settlements, but those places that hosted the SDC.

Restraint was a thing of the past. Why should we hold back when our enemies never did?

A small part of me wished we could remain moderate. Extremes are dangerous. Once the genie is out of the bottle, stuffing it back in becomes impossible. But moderation, it seemed, was no longer an option. Atlas had made its choice. And so, I made mine.

I ordered an all-out push. Feelers were sent far and wide, calling on the Union to bring people and towns to our cause, guerilla style. Organizing our forces like a conventional army had been a mistake. We weren't soldiers, we were guerrillas. So, I went back to the drawing board. I decentralized our forces. The central styled army was disbanded and dispersed across the region. Their objectives were clear: inflict casualties on the SDC, disrupt their supplies and operations, and cripple their facilities.

For the faunus, I offered what the White Fang could not: action. Every faunus had at least one family member, or knew someone, who had suffered because of the SDC or Atlas. It was a wound that ran deep, an intrinsic part of who we were as a people. It took little effort to convince the angry and the lost to rally to my side. For the Mistralis, I offered protection. Our reputation as fighters of both bandits and nobility had spread far and wide. People wanted what we could provide. Autonomy in exchange for progressive taxation, it wasn't a hard sell.

After all, better to deal with revolutionaries that were far away rather than nobles or bandits breathing down their necks every hour of every day.

The issue of dust distribution, however, loomed large. If the SDC decided to pull out of the region entirely, it would be a death sentence for the countryside. Towns here depended on dust for survival. To mitigate that risk, local distributors were to be protected. Though the SDC held a monopoly, smaller dust manufacturers still existed and were left untouched for obvious reasons. This was done to get them on our side, or at least sell when the SDC would not. And of course, bandits and nobles were to be engaged when we could. We needed the support of the country side after all.

And thus, I unleashed the dogs of war, and already it was paying dividends. I had to admit, stepping back from personally leading our forces brought an unexpected sense of relief. Delegating responsibility meant less stress, less micromanagement. For the first time, I had room to breathe and this free time, I used to myself.

Movements were led by personalities as much as it was ideology. Since starting, I had no personalized equipment for myself, using what I found on the ground. Now though, it was time to change that, to form a specific image. In my hand, I held a weapon, its grip firm yet light, the weapon itself surprisingly balanced. I turned it slightly, watching the blade catch the light, its edge gleaming. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into position, my feet steady, my stance grounded. I raised the sword and swung. The first swing was experimental, a slow arc through the air. The blade sliced effortlessly, the faint whistle of its passage sending a shiver through me. My grip tightened, and I adjusted slightly, feeling more in tune with the weapon. I tried again, this time faster, the blade cutting through the air with purpose. The sound was sharper now, cutting the air.

"I like it," I admitted, sliding the sword back into its sheath.

[SPOILER="Sword"][/SPOILER]

"I'm glad you do," the blacksmith said, a note of pride in his voice. "I spent quite some time perfecting it to match your specifications."

The weapon felt perfect in my hands. I had commissioned the blacksmith to craft a sword for me, forged from captured weapons. They had been destroyed, melted down, and reborn into something new, something mine.

"What will you name it?" the blacksmith asked.

"It shall be-" I began, but the flaps of my tent abruptly opened.

"Adam!"

I turned to see a head poking in. It was Malik, his expression grim. "Yes?"

"We've got...visitors. White Fang."

I frowned. I hadn't sent for them nor had the Mistrali White Fang contacted us, until now. "How did they find us?"

"Word of mouth," Malik admitted, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

So, it would seem. "They're disarmed?"

"Of course," Malik assured me.

I paused, then gave a nod. "Let them wait." Turning back to the blacksmith, I said, "I'll return to you shortly."

"I'm finished here anyway," the blacksmith replied, giving me a knowing look and stepping out. "Good luck."

I stepped out of the tent, Malik trailing close behind. Outside, three figures stood waiting. They wore uniforms of the White Fang, though notably without the Grimm masks. All three were fox Faunus, their ears unmistakable atop their heads. The first was older, his posture calm and confident. The other two seemed younger, though their faces tugged at my memory. From what Sienna told me, The White Fang had their own organization but generally kept to their own area of operations. She had never bothered to contact the local Fang here since most were concentrated in the city.

"Greetings, Emancipator," the older one said with a slight bow.

I raised an eyebrow. "Emancipator?"

"Isn't that your title?" he asked, noticing my confusion.

"I don't recall granting myself that," I replied flatly.

"Apologies," he said smoothly. "I merely repeat what I have heard." He motioned to the two younger men at his side. "I am Vulpes Albain, and these are my sons, Fennec and Corsac. We have heard much about you."

Inwardly, I tensed. Fennec and Corsac, these were the same two who had tried to assassinate the Belladonnas in Volume 4. Vulpes, however, was a name I didn't recognize. Then again, there was much about Remnant that we, as viewers, were never shown.

"I see," I replied simply. "What do you want?"

"Blunt," Fennec muttered, only to be elbowed by his brother.

I didn't react. "I am Solitan. We mean what we say or say nothing at all."

"Very well," Vulpes said, exhaling slowly, his tone deliberate. "I represent a deputation of the White Fang dissatisfied with the current state of affairs. Simply put, we wish to align with your forces or, at the very least, become allies in your fight against the SDC and," his eyes flickered briefly, "to warn you as well."

My eyes narrowed as I glanced at Malik, then back at Vulpes. "Inside my tent," I invited curtly. The Albains nodded, following my lead as I entered first. Gesturing them in, I leaned toward Malik as he stepped forward. "Find Sienna," I whispered, and he left promptly. Turning my attention back to the Albains, I masked my distrust behind an impassive expression. These brothers had tried to assassinate the Belladonnas in a timeline that would never come to pass. Now they walk in my tent, looking smug, convinced they knew more than they let on.

"Sit," I ordered. They obeyed, sitting cross-legged on the floor. My tent was no place for visitors: cramped, spartan, with a bed shoved against one wall. We were on campaign, not enjoying a retreat. I leaned against the frame of my bed, arms crossed. Alone with them, I felt no fear. If it came down to it, I could handle them easily. This fact was not lost on the three foxes.

"How did you find us?" I asked. While our location was not entirely inaccessible, I had ensured only trusted allies knew our position. What kind of guerrilla movement advertises its whereabouts?

"Word of mouth," Vulpes replied smoothly. "We made little effort to conceal ourselves or our intentions. Many suggested where you might be, though we pieced it together and tracked you."

I considered this. Potential leaks crossed my mind, but their explanation was reasonable enough. "You mentioned a warning," I said, cutting to the point. "What is it?"

"Two days ago, our comrades in Argus reported new shipments from the SDC," Corsac whispered.

"They come to you, with force in arms," Fennec added solemnly. "They seek to crush your movement to dust."

I had no patience for theatrics. The irritation on my face must have been evident because Vulpes quickly interjected.

"Hundreds of Atlesian Knights," he explained, "and more to be distributed along the way. Allegedly. Despite the unrest in Mistral, the SDC has never used such force before until your Union began targeting their establishments."

I absorbed the information, my mind racing.

"I have fought Knights before," I muttered. "One is manageable. But full companies, marching in formation, is a wall of concentrated firepower..."

"A challenge for a Huntsman," Vulpes added, nodding knowingly. "But for those without aura? Devastating. Passing through your villages, it seems to us that your aura users are few."

"And you intend to fill that gap?" I asked, my tone skeptical.

Vulpes nodded, his expression solemn. "Yes, Emancipator. The White Fang has many aura-capable fighters. The deputation I represent is eager to bring the fight to the SDC."

Aura users were valuable, there was no denying that. But still, "You mentioned a deputation."

"The White Fang of Mistral," Vulpes replied evenly.

My gaze was questioning, then it flicked to the tent flap as it parted, revealing two familiar figures.

"Vulpes," Sienna said, her tone laden with familiarity. She knew them.

"Sienna Khan," Vulpes greeted, his voice calm. "What a surprise."

"Sienna?" I cleared my throat, gesturing toward the three men for clarification.

Her eyes met mine briefly before shifting to Vulpes. "He is the right hand of Mistral's branch," she said, her voice tight with restrained emotion. Her gaze hardened as it locked onto Vulpes. "Where is your Chief?"

Vulpes hesitated, his expression tightening. "He is..."

"He is a miserable sack," Fennec hissed, his tone venomous. "Drawn to the excesses of the capitol. Unworthy to call himself Faunus. A traitor."

Sienna's mouth opened, then closed again, her lips pressing together into a thin line. Her silence spoke volumes. I latched onto it. "What do they mean?"

"Mistral's White Fang representative, Louis Rex," Sienna began carefully, "has his own interpretation of Ghira's philosophy. Ghira advocates for coexistence with humanity. But Rex..."

"He preaches assimilation," Vulpes cut in bitterly. "He tells our people that equality cannot be demanded or fought for. Instead, he insists we must erase who we are."

"He despises the name Faunus," Fennec added, his voice trembling with anger. "He claims that to coexist with humans, we must become human in every way."

"Shave our fur, hide our ears, bind our tails, erase everything that makes us Faunus until nothing remains but what humans can tolerate," Corsac finished, his voice a mix of disgust and despair.

I turned to Sienna, seeking confirmation. She nodded reluctantly, her expression pained. My stomach churned with revulsion.

"And why is his leadership tolerated?" I demanded. "Why did Ghira sign off on this?"

"His wealth and connections," Vulpes explained grimly. "He has allies within the Mistrali Regency Council. He owns a dozen clubs, bars, and speakeasies, only counting the Upper City."

I paused, my thoughts drifting to Rooster Teeth's sources for getting their characters. Some characters were made from The Jungle Book. Bagheera became Ghira Belladonna. Shere Khan became Sienna Khan. And Louis Rex? He could only be King Louie, the orangutan who longed to be human.

"And because of his wealth and influence, he has chosen not to oppose the SDC here," I surmised aloud.

"Exactly," Vulpes confirmed. "Not just the SDC but the gangs, the corruption, the suffering of our people, he lets it all slide, promising action but delivering none."

"We are tired of it," Corsac and Fennec said in unison, their voices laced with frustration.

If Ghira really tolerated such a thing, then no wonder so many faunus left his ranks when the world demanded more. But giving Ghira grief was less important here. I studied them carefully. "Aside from your aura users, what else can you offer?"

"Supplies. Information. Fighters," Vulpes answered without hesitation. "We wish to absolve ourselves of the White Fang as it is. Ghira's tolerance of Louis Rex has failed us. And apparently, it has failed you as well, Sienna Khan. That is why you disappeared, no?"

Sienna's lips thinned further. "I have been missed?"

Vulpes nodded. "Correct. You have been absent long enough that the Atlesian White Fang has chosen a new leader in your place." His eyes shifted back to me. "But news of the White Fang is not why we are here."

"You understand," I said firmly, "that there are expectations. This is not a Faunus-only movement."

"The humans in your camp surprised us," Vulpes admitted. "But if it means bringing justice to the SDC, so be it." He hesitated before adding, "If you fear I might harm those who are not our enemy, I give you my word, on my wife's memory, that I will not. If necessary, we will swear a blood compact."

I was taken aback by his sincerity. "The SDC ensured my sons would grow up without a mother," Vulpes revealed, pain etched into his face. I glanced at Sienna, who nodded, confirming his story.

"I will think on it," I said finally.

"Fair," Vulpes replied. "My sons and I will wait."

"Malik," I called, "take them outside and see that they are fed and watered." The Albains stood, bowing respectfully before they left.

Turning to Sienna, I asked, "Can we trust them?"

"What did you discuss before I arrived?" Sienna clarified, stepping closer.

"Jacques Schnee is preparing to unleash a tide of Knights into Mistral, aimed at us or so Vulpes claims," I reported. "Can we confirm that?"

"The SDC would not deploy its forces so blatantly, at least not without concealing their intentions. If they do, we will find out," Sienna replied. "If our men report a sudden influx of Knights, that will be confirmation enough."

"There's something else to consider," I added, my voice steady despite the unease twisting in my gut. "The SDC is focusing its forces here because they believe we are based in this location. We are the targets, nothing else." I hesitated before voicing my darker thought. "Unless they are brazen enough to massacre entire villages just to flush us out."

A flash of anger crossed Sienna's face. "They wouldn't dare."

"Sienna, the Schnee Dust Company has committed countless atrocities against us. Is it really beyond them to do something so vile?" I countered. "We're in the wilds. If they act, who will stop them?"

"There is no profit in such a move," Sienna argued, though her eyes betrayed doubt. It was clear she did not fully believe her own words.

"If they are mobilizing their own forces, it means they're serious about stopping us," I reasoned. "We need to seriously consider the possibility of SDC forces moving into this region."

"You're considering bringing the Albains in?" Sienna asked slowly, her tone guarded.

"I'm asking you," I replied. "You've known these Faunus far longer than I have. What do you think?"

Sienna paused, her eyes narrowing in thought before she spoke. "Action proves what words don't. There are other lieutenants whose men remain loyal to their own leaders. The Albains represent those lieutenants. By sending Vulpes, they're signaling that they are serious about switching sides. Did Vulpes demand any leadership role?"

"No," I said. "He simply conveyed what he and the other lieutenants feel. Their desire to fight the SDC seems sincere, at least from what I could sense."

Sienna hesitated, then admitted, "I...can't speak for the other lieutenants. I only know Albain because Louis brought him to meetings."

"Ultimately, time will tell," I said with a grunt. "I don't trust these foxes, but the question remains. Can we afford to go without them?"

"We've accomplished a lot in a short amount of time," Sienna pointed out. "If the SDC comes, we can always melt into the countryside. But if they resort to brutal tactics to root us out..."

"I don't think the SDC would stoop to such cartoonishly evil methods," I growled, though my gut told me otherwise. The thought gnawed at me. Who would stop them? The Atlesian Military? Mistral had no military of its own to challenge their actions. The wilds offered no protection against their kind of force.

"What is your decision, then?" Sienna asked after a long silence.

I thought, for a moment, then I spoke.

+++

"Do you think he'll bite?" Fennec whispered, glancing toward the tent's entrance.

Inside, the three sat around a low table, food and drink laid out before them. A single wolf Faunus stood watch, his eyes ever-vigilant. That faunus, Vulpes felt, was another comrade from the North though he did not pry.

"I think so," Vulpes replied, turning an apple in his hand before taking a deliberate bite. The sweet juice spread across his tongue, but his focus remained sharp. He said, out loud, for the wolf to hear. "We bring half of Mistral's network. The rest will follow once they see our success."

"He distrusts us," Corsac pointed out, his voice low.

"Of course he does. I would, too, in his position," Vulpes replied after swallowing, his tone calm. But inwardly, Vulpes wrestled with his own doubts. He needed this to work. While he could, theoretically, go it alone, that path was fraught with uncertainty. He might carve out a small faction of loyalists, but only the men under his direct command. He wasn't confident he could unite the rest. The Union, however, was already in motion. They had momentum and legitimacy, things he couldn't offer on his own. Why painstakingly build a boat when a ship was already sailing? Aligning with Adam would not only secure their survival but also lift them from the shadows. And legitimacy? That was personal to Vulpes. He had swallowed his pride for too long, serving that fool Louis. The stain of those years clung to him like filth, one he could only wash away with decisive action.

If Adam accepted, they would have security. He and his sons wouldn't remain scavengers gnawing on scraps. They would be officers, leaders. Without Adam, they would be small and isolated, hunted at every turn. That was no life. It was a slow death. This truth had convinced the other lieutenants to follow him, just as it had convinced him to act.

Louis was consumed by greed. Ghira paralyzed by timidity.

They needed a leader.

The question was: Could Adam be that leader?

The tent flaps opened and the Albains turned. Adam stood there, tall and imposing, his muscles taut with strength earned through battle and discipline. His sword, newly forged, hung at his side, and his ice blue eyes swept over them like a predator sizing up its prey. Vulpes felt a chill crept up his old spine.

"I don't know you," Adam began, his voice calm but laced with steel. "And I certainly don't trust you enough to accept you as Union."

Vulpes kept his face neutral, betraying none of the tension coiled inside him.

"But," Adam continued, "the Union can always use allies. In this fight against the SDC, we need everyone aboard. For justice's sake."

Relief flickered in Vulpes's chest, but he refused to let it show. His voice was steady as he nodded. "We can work with an ally."

Adam's eyes narrowed. "Then prove it."

"What do you wish us to do?" Fennec asked, breaking the silence.

Adam's gaze shifted to him then paused, letting them strain to hear his next words. Words that they longed to hear. Words that Louis or Ghira would never utter. Words they had been waiting for. "Attack the SDC," commanded Adam Taurus.

Something in Vulpes electrified. A bright, stupid, jubilant lightning that tore the careful knots he'd tied in his chest. His sons mirrored him, hearts drumming with anticipation, and a wicked glinting smile on their lips. They stepped forward as one, hands thrust out and bowed low

"As you command, Emancipator." they declared.

+++

A/N: Back to this, thanks to the glowing examples of inspiration happening around my country, lmao. What's happening in Indonesia, and in Nepal, and soon to happen here is pretty damn based.

Continuing on with Mistral being the second worst place in RWBY, you got the White Fang head there be King Louie. For those who don't know him, (And by god that makes me feel old), he was a character in the Jungle Book who...well: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ud5J7Ye332I