RWBY: Moon Reflection-Chapter 103: War Preparation

The air in Ironwood's office felt heavier than ever as the silence stretched. Ironwood lowered himself into his chair, his hands covering his face as he let out a weary sigh. "Then tell me, Crimson," he said, his voice muffled but trembling with frustration, "what are we supposed to do?"

Crimson leaned forward, his sharp gaze cutting through the tension. "We take a stand," he replied firmly. "Evacuate every civilian in both Atlas and Mantle to the eastern side of the kingdom—get them as far from the incoming threat as possible. Pull back every soldier, huntsman, and available force. We prepare for a war of existence."

Ironwood dropped his hands, glaring at Crimson. "That's madness!" he exclaimed. "Do you even understand what you're saying? That would be the end of Atlas!"

Crimson didn't flinch. Instead, he crossed his arms and shook his head. "Atlas isn't just a place, General. It's the people. Abandoning either—its people or its location—would mean the end of Atlas anyway. You're clinging to a symbol, but symbols mean nothing if there's no one left to carry them forward."

The words hit like a hammer, and Ironwood's scowl softened, though the conflict in his eyes remained. Crimson, however, pressed on, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Besides," he said, his tone lightening slightly, "you are all assuming we'd lose this war. But that's not necessarily true."

His words drew puzzled looks from everyone. Crimson reached into his pocket, pulling out his scroll. With a few taps, he brought it to his ear. "Aunt Raven," he said simply. "Can you open a portal to me?"

The room's confusion deepened as the conversation unfolded, too quiet for anyone else to hear. But Crimson's tone was calm and deliberate, a stark contrast to the rising anxiety around him.

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The timeskip brought the room to an entirely different scene. Raven Branwen now sat among them, her crimson eyes wide in shock. The others mirrored her expression—Winter, Clover, and even Ironwood seemed taken aback by what Crimson had proposed.

Ironwood shook his head, his voice laced with disbelief. "This... this plan is more of a suicide mission than anything else."

Crimson leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression unshaken. "It might be," he admitted, his tone calm. "But this isn't just a battle, General. This might be the largest war against the Grimm in the history of Remnant. If we want to survive—if we want to win—you can't afford to play it safe."

Ironwood's brows furrowed as Crimson leaned forward, his crimson eyes locking onto him. "You need to put everything on the line—no half-measures, no hesitation. Give it everything you have and fight like tomorrow doesn't exist. Because it might not."

The room fell silent, the weight of Crimson's words pulling everyone into deep thought. He exhaled softly and leaned back again, closing his eyes for a moment. "Whatever happens next, the whole world will hear about it. If the worst comes to pass..." His voice softened, taking on a somber tone. "Let's leave something behind—hope, an example for others to follow. Our existence may be fleeting, but that doesn't diminish who we are."

The gravity of his statement was palpable, leaving the room in a stunned hush. Even Ironwood, usually so composed, seemed lost in thought, staring blankly at the desk.

Finally, Ironwood sighed, breaking the silence. He straightened and looked to Clover. "Call the rest of the Ace Ops, all lieutenants. And Qrow," he added. "I want to hear their thoughts. Every suggestion counts now."

Clover nodded and stepped out of the room, already pulling out his scroll. Winter, who had been silent for most of the conversation, spoke up. "If we're really going to do this," she began, her tone measured but resolute, "then we should broadcast it."

Ironwood turned to her, his brow furrowing. "Broadcast it?"

Winter's expression softened—an unusual sight, but one that carried surprising warmth. "Let the whole world see what we are made of," she said, a small but genuine smile forming on her lips. "Whether we win or lose, let everyone know what Atlas stands for."

Her words lingered in the air, and a quiet determination began to take hold in the room. Meanwhile, Crimson's mind drifted back to his match with Pyrrha—back then, he had felt insulted, like a spectacle put on display. But now, standing before the possibility of even a greater audience, he found himself unexpectedly calm. The contrast amused him, and he mused to himself how much things had changed.

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The air between Crimson and Team RWBY was charged with tension. Crimson stood tall, his demeanor calm yet unyielding, as Yang glared at him with fiery intensity. Her voice broke through the room like a thunderclap.

"Why, of all places, am I being sent to Argus Base?" she demanded, her fists clenched tight. "Salem is practically at our doorstep, and you're telling me to just sit on my hands?"

Crimson didn't flinch at her outburst. His eyes locked onto hers, steady as stone. "This is war, Yang," he said, his tone cold but measured. "And you're going to be treated like everyone else. Right now, we have a plan that includes you being stationed there, and we don't have the luxury of wasting time on debates. You will go to Argus, and you will sit still, waiting for your orders."

Yang took a step forward, her voice rising with frustration. "What are you even planning? Why am I being sent away? What aren't you telling us?"

Crimson's gaze didn't waver. "You all lost your right to know," he replied, his voice dropping an octave, laden with finality. "Trust was a two-way road, and you broke it. All you need to understand is this: when the time comes, if you're not stationed at Argus, we could lose the war. That's all that matters."

Yang opened her mouth to argue again, but her words faltered. Crimson's presence was unrelenting, an invisible pressure that made the room feel smaller. Ruby, caught between her sister's anger and Crimson's steely resolve, stepped forward hesitantly. "What about the rest of us?" she asked, her voice low. "Are we going to Argus with Yang?"

Crimson turned his sharp gaze toward Ruby, softening only slightly. "No," he said, shaking his head. "You, Blake, and Weiss will join one of the ground platoons. Your skills are better suited for the frontlines."

Yang's anger flared again. "I'm not going to Argus!" she shouted, her voice trembling with defiance. "I won't—"

Before she could finish, Crimson sighed and stepped closer. His eyes burned into hers, cutting through her defiance like a blade. "You will be there," he said, his voice quiet but filled with an unshakable authority. "Physically. Regardless of the state you're in. If you're not, we all lose."

The look he gave her made the room feel ice-cold. For a moment, it wasn't the Crimson they knew—it was something else entirely. Her anger evaporated, replaced by a cold shiver running down her spine. She took a step back instinctively, unable to meet his gaze any longer.

Without another word, Crimson turned on his heel and walked out of the room. A few soldiers entered seconds later, their expressions grim as they approached Yang. "Come with us, please" one of them said firmly.

Yang hesitated, but eventually followed them, her usual fire subdued for the first time in what felt like forever.

Ruby, Weiss, and Blake remained behind, exchanging worried looks. The silence between them was heavy until Weiss finally spoke, her voice quiet but filled with unease. "That's the first time I've seen Crimson look at Yang like that."

Blake nodded, her expression shadowed with concern. "I thought... I thought he might actually attack her if she protested again."

Ruby's shoulders slumped as she stared at the ground. Her voice was low and hollow when she spoke. "Something's wrong," she said, her hands clenching at her sides. "They are planning something, something big, and they don't trust us enough to tell us what it is."

Weiss let out a sigh. "Crimson was clear," she murmured. "We need to earn their trust again. Until then..." She trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

The three of them stood there in silence, the weight of uncertainty and guilt hanging over them like a dark cloud.

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The air was heavy with urgency as Clover Ebi and Marrow Amin stood before Robyn Hill, her sharp eyes narrowing as they relayed their orders. The usually bustling streets of Mantle were eerily quiet in the early hours, save for the distant sound of marching soldiers and the faint hum of airships overhead.

"Salem has arrived," Clover began, his voice steady but grim. "We're here to ensure the evacuation of Mantle and Atlas. Your job is to rally the huntsmen and the people to assist with the evacuation efforts. Everyone must head east. That's where we're fortifying our defense and relocating the population."

Robyn crossed her arms, skepticism written across her face. "And you expect me to just take your word for it?" she asked sharply. "You're asking me to put my trust in Atlas' military after everything you've done to Mantle. How do I know this isn't another ploy to tighten your grip on power?"

Marrow bristled slightly at her words, but Clover raised a calming hand before speaking again. "Use your semblance," he said, his tone firm yet calm. "I will prove I'm telling the truth." He extended his hand toward her, meeting her gaze directly.

Robyn hesitated, her brows furrowing as she reached out and clasped his hand. Her semblance flared to life, a faint glow surrounding their hands. Clover's voice was resolute as he continued, "If we fail, everyone will die—Atlas and Mantle alike. This isn't about power or politics anymore. This is about survival."

Robyn's expression shifted as her semblance confirmed his sincerity. Her jaw tightened, and she nodded gravely. "Alright," she said, releasing his hand. "I'll gather the huntsmen and the people. We'll do everything we can to help." Without another word, she turned and began moving, her determined stride leaving no room for doubt.

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Meanwhile, in the Schnee family mansion, Winter Schnee stood before her father in the grandiose study. The room was as cold as the man seated behind the desk, his hands clasped together in an unyielding show of authority.

"We're requisitioning the Schnee Dust Company's ships for the evacuation effort," Winter stated bluntly, her back ramrod straight, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Jacques Schnee's eyes narrowed, his voice sharp with indignation. "You have no right!" he barked, slamming a hand on the desk. "Those ships are company property. You can't simply—"

Before he could finish, Winter drew her sword in a single fluid motion, the blade gleaming as it stopped mere inches from his neck. Jacques froze, his bravado evaporating in an instant as he stared at his daughter in shock and fear.

"Obey the orders," Winter said coldly, her voice like steel. "Or I will end this here and now."

Jacques swallowed hard, his face pale as he nodded, his confidence reduced to nothing under her piercing gaze.

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Across Atlas, the city was alive with activity as soldiers and workers moved with purpose. Military vehicles rumbled down the streets, loaded with supplies and equipment. Airships filled the sky, ferrying troops and resources to key positions. The once-quiet stronghold of the kingdom had transformed into a hive of preparation, every corner of Atlas brimming with the weight of the coming war.

Despite the fear lingering in the hearts of the people, the resolve of the kingdom was clear. This was a battle for survival—a battle where there would be no second chances. As soldiers marched and huntsmen rallied, the city of Atlas braced itself for the storm that was rapidly approaching.