The next few weeks were frankly a blur.
Firstly was the very swift trial of Stirling and his conspirators. As Glover had predicted, the man had screamed and ranted and raved, spouting off such an amount of racist bullshit and traitorous rhetoric that he all but condemned himself with words alone. His four remaining men had tried to pull the ‘just following orders’ excuse, but when that failed they had opted to merely remain silent. They had all unsurprisingly been found guilty on all charges. The former soldiers were handed off to Menagerie to deal with as they saw fit as a gesture of goodwill. Stirling himself had been sentenced to an exile to the White Sea.
His attitude had done a complete 180, and he had been begging to be shot as he’d been dragged out of the courtroom. Begging to die a soldier, not a traitor. This request was ignored, and he had been dumped out in the White Sea at dawn the following day.
Then came the negotiations. It came to the surprise of absolutely no one that Menagerie wrung out as many concessions as was possible. Atlas would fund, build and hook up a CCT Tower on Menagerie. In addition, Atlas would pay in full for a replacement for the MV Audumla along with two more vessels of the same class from YAMATO Shipyards, and the restrictions on Menagerian goods going into Atlas and Atlesian goods going into Menagerie were scrapped entirely.
Menagerie didn’t get the discriminatory laws (or rather, the laws that permitted companies to be discriminatory) off of Atlas’ books, nor did they get to set up an embassy on Solitas or receive Atlesian backing for a Huntsfolk Academy on Menagerie, but a victory was a victory. Despite the cost. Sienna Khan had apparently pushed for more, but Ghira had agreed to what was offered regardless, so as not to push too far and get nothing in return.
The atmosphere between the two of them was still positively frigid even as they departed on a donated Atlesian Airship, a temporary replacement for the Audumla until YAMATO finished the trio of ships bound for Kuo Kuana. They left a few days earlier than originally intended, but apparently there was something that had happened in Menagerie that required them back as soon as possible to deal with it. From the looks on the faces of their entire delegation, a mix of ashen and furious expressions, it was likely yet another disaster. Yet another crack in the relationship between Ghira and Sienna. Yet another step towards the White Fang losing hope and belief in a bloodless path to equality.
And now, after weeks of near constant paperwork and more takeout than was strictly healthy, when my timetable was finally calming down to reasonable levels…Ironwood asked to see me entirely out of the blue.
His office was pretty spartan for a member of the Board of Captains. A few shelves for files, a desk with an inbuilt screen and keyboard and a couple of chairs for guests. In fact, the only bit of anything not tailored exclusively to efficiency and not comfort or ostentation appeared to be the black leather chair Ironwood himself sat in.
“Good, you’re here.” He said as I entered his office and gave a salute. “Take a seat, Archivist Schwartz.”
As I settled into one of the spare chairs, my host leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes for a few moments. After taking his moment of contemplation, he opened them again and began to speak.
“I am going to be chosen as the next General of the Atlesian Military.” Ironwood began, a statement of fact rather than a confident boast. “Half of the captains on the board are coming up to either retirement or have opted to take ‘early’ retirement, half of the remainder don’t want to be the one to deal with the inevitable series of shitstorms that are heading our way…and the rest are under investigation for their links to the disgraced former Captain Stirling. And whilst Zinnia Hague is standing as a candidate, she is only doing so to prevent a potentially distasteful situation where a General is elected unopposed and honestly does not wish for the position.”
“Do you, sir?”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Not particularly, if I am being truthful. But someone needs to take on the burden, and it seems like that someone will be me.” He paused again, and shook his head once. “But that is not why I have called you here. I have a request for you, Schwartz.”
“I’m listening, Sir.”
“Gwendolyn Dewne, the Professor of History at the Atlas Academy has announced that she will be retiring at the end of the school year. And if the rumors are true, Headmistress Arnold won’t be too far behind her. She’s had something of a falling out with the other Headmaster’s, apparently.”
Not quite sure where he’s going with this.
“...I would ask that you to apply for Dewne’s position, Schwartz.” Ironwood said. “I want you to be the next History Professor of Atlas Academy.”
Oh. Oh shit.
“..You do understand that I have no background in education, yes?” At his nod, I sighed as I continued.“...Then may I ask why you are coming to me with this request, Sir?”
“Because I need people I can trust, Schwartz.” Ironwood replied. “Trust in the Atlesian Military, both internally and internationally, has understandably nosedived. I will need to rebuild it. And since the General of the Military is in charge of the Academy until a new Headteacher is selected, it’ll be down to me to replace Professor Dewne if and when Absinthe steps down. From what I know of you, you are reliable and hardworking, and a quick learner. You try exceedingly hard to remain apolitical and loathe racist and discriminatory policies and opinions. You have spent seven years in the Archives with access to historical records, and according to Royce Glover you have a particular interest in history.”
All true.
“And whilst I am aware you are not the type of person that it will truly matter to, I feel I should mention that the pay for even a non-field role such as Professor of History is…generous, to say the least.”
That…is uncomfortably tempting. The Archives do pay, but it’s not a staggering amount. 19000Ⱡ a month is enough to pay the bills and save a little, but..
I could move out of my Shoebox Apartment. I could have an actual office at home and not just jammed into a corner of our Kitchen-Lounge. Cinder could have friends over. I could even have a garden. I haven’t had a garden since I moved out of-..
Fuck. I’m going to have to do this, aren’t I? And not for principle or honor or any higher ideal like that. But for fucking Lien.
“May I have some time to think it over, Sir?”
“I can give you a week.” Ironwood replied. “After that, I will need your answer…or I’ll need to find someone else.”
“Thank you Sir.” I answered, and stood up and gave him a salute. “For your time, and your offer.”
I strode over and halted and the door, and turned to face Ironwood once more,
“Sir, in my experience the people that do not wish for a certain job or duty, are usually the ones that do that job or duty right if called to do so.” I smiled. “So in short…, regardless of what I choose…I’ve got your back, General Ironwood.”
The man blinked, before breaking out into a smile.
“I appreciate it, Schwartz.”
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Officially, Facility 19 did not exist. The official reason for this was that the original founders of the Atlesian Military were a superstitious lot and 19 was considered a particularly unlucky number, so they skipped straight from 18 to 20. It was a common jape within the Military, and considered a fun and harmless joke within the ranks.
Unofficially, Facility 19 was very real. It was a joint venture between the Reds, Teals and Whites. The Engineering, Science and Medical Corps. It was a gathering of the brightest and boldest minds the Military had, all to ensure the safety and security of Atlas. Located in an industrial complex on the outskirts of Mantle, it was the birthplace of the Paladin Project, the Atlesian Knights and most of Lieutenant Watts’ projects.
In a small office in one of the buildings within the complex, a meeting was taking place. A dozen people were crammed into the room, with one man standing in front of the rest. Albus Hawthorn, General of the Atlesian Military looked exhausted but still wore a faint smile on his face.
“Change is coming, ladies and gentlemen.” Albus addressed the group. “James Ironwood intends a wholesale reform of the Military, the biggest since the late 20’s, so as to avoid the foul rot of both corruption and infiltration that this sad episode has revealed.”
There was a rumble of agreements from the others in the room. None of the people in the room looked remotely happy about the fact their colleague was being forced to retire in the manner he was, but all respected his choice to do so.
“...Pietro.” Albus addressed one of the group. “My last official act as General of the Atlesian Military was to secure your funding. It’ll be in the old Glaesii account. You should have enough Lien to see out your dream, but I would suggest getting James on board as soon as you are able. He’s a good man, principled and reasonable. He’d almost certainly be interested in giving you his support in your endeavor.”
“So we may continue with our work?” The man’s words sent a ripple of hushed, excited murmurings around the office.
“Yes my friend. The PENNY Project is safe.”