Save the world? Fuck that, I want to make money! (RWBY SI) ch 20 (Patreon)

+++

Jackson yawned as he took a step outside his home. As his eyes adjusted, the first thing he saw was the watchtower erected on the edge of his town. It was not a difficult sight to miss as a ring of them surrounded his frontier village, alongside other fortifications and preparations. Outsiders and newcomers from the cities were usually shocked in seeing such things, decrying it as militarism but their complaints usually were quieted when the Grimm would come and the town would go up in arms to defend their homes and livelihoods.

​Ever since Royal and Imperial had gone around selling their Frontier arms, life had a dramatic impact to his township. Now that they didn't have to worry about shooting their own dust supply, their town mayor had found new uses for their dust stockpile. More fuel for their generators, more dust to use for their farming equipment and more.

He had to wonder if they would consider making more dustless stuff. It would be very, very useful.

But he could think about such things later when he didn't have to work. With one final stretch, he walked off to work.

Work for him was being a low-level bureaucrat for the Town Hall. He had left Vale for adventure and a little excitement and thus, the boonies it was. He remained unmarried of course. He didn't want to worry about a family especially out in the dangerous wilds.

"Morning, Jackson," a gruff voice greeted him.

In front of him stood two men in uniform. Both looked rather anachronistic, wearing uniforms straight out of the history books. Polished black boots reaching up the knees worn over blue pants and tunic. The only modern item that they wore were their kits and Atlesian chest plate. His collar and hat betrayed his allegiance, a round Silver Shield and Solitan Eagle.

​"Mornin, Demetrios," Jackson replied, taking his hat off his head slightly to acknowledge the soldier-no, merc. It was still a hard time to imagine that the man in front of him was a mercenary and not a solider. He and the Silver Shields that their town had hired were far too professional than the rough and tumble men or colorful Huntsmen that plied the trade of kicking Grimm ass. Normally, they didn't see the need to hire mercenaries like the Silver Shields. They could defend themselves easily enough and with the Frontier series weapons, their militia duties were much much easier so much so that they hadn't found the need to hire Huntsmen. The Town Mayor however had breached the issue that with the harvest season coming close, healthy hands were needed for the harvest and their farmhands running off for their arms when the town bell was rung meant lost time thus, mercenaries or Huntsmen were needed to take over defence duties.

It was a lengthy debate whether to hire mercs or Huntsmen. With their coffers much more filled, they could afford hiring a Huntsman to protect them. But a point was raised; why hire a Huntsman to protect them when they could get more value from a cheaper mercenary company that could do the same thing?

It was a interesting thing that they had debated on. Sure, a merc company would be cheap but they were usually rowdy and undisciplined asses that would eat their food and sleep with their wives and daughters. A huntsman was the same but at least they could keep a watch on them. Then, someone suggested hiring the Silver Shields.

​Unlike the cities, the frontier towns of Vale had long memories. They remembered the bands of Mistralian and Mantlese troops that would burn, kill, and rape their way during the Great War. Some still lived during those times and vehemently refused the idea outright. But then, it was pointed out that most of their things were made in Atlas and that the war was in fact over. Besides, the Silver Shields themselves had very good reviews.

"Off to work?" Demetrios asked, raising an eyebrow. Jackson nodded, tapping to the bag he carried.

"Yup. I got here my lunch," he said proudly. He had made a wonderful sandwich, sourdough bread with pepper beef, onions, and melted cheese. All materials sourced locally of course.

The SS man glanced down at his bag and nodded. "I can smell it too. Damn, where did you get that?"

"I made it myself," Jackson revealed. "I worked at a sandwich shop back in college. I don't work there anymore but I kept the skills. It all tastes better now since the ingredients are all local. Beef from the Kettleman's and the vegetables are from the White farm."

"They still selling?" Demetrios asked.

He nodded. "Yup. Kettleman has some juicy steaks if you'd like. For the White's, its harvesting season right now so very, very fresh."

Demetrios turned back to his fellow SS man. "We really out to buy more locally."

He shrugged. "I don't care what I eat as long as I can eat."

"You're a damn barbarian, Leonidas." Demetrios chuckled before turning back to Jackson.

"Sorry about him. He's born from a village that eats broth made of blood."

"And you're from a village that eats cock," Leonidas clapped back.

Jackson raised an eyebrow. Cock as in the chicken or cock as in-He paused his thoughts. He didn't have to know. And besides, he had work to do. "Well, gentlemen, if there is nothing else, I have work to do."

"Of course," Demetrios nodded with a wave. And thus, Jackson moved on, shaking his head at the foreigners and their strange ways. But they could fight, everyone saw that from the Atlas rescue. And in the frontier, that was what mattered.

+++

"What are you doing?" Emerald asked.

I glanced up from my scroll and my desk to look at my adopted street urchin. Well, street urchin no longer. She was wearing better clothes now, a green dress with short sleeves, a black collar, and white cuffs. On her neck was a dark green ribbon of a frilled design. On her lap was a teddy bear with a similar ribbon to hers. 

​"Reviewing," I replied, looking back down on my paper. 

"Reviewing what?" Emerald asked again, hugging her teddy bear. 

"General Ironwood's paper," I replied again, not taking my eyes off the scroll. It was months now since the 33 Miracle, as people were calling it now. The public consciousness of the event was starting to wander off, time usually did that to events. Some groups were still invested however, the White Fang for one wanted to nail Jacques Schnee to a cross, metaphorically speaking. The Belladonnas were adamant about the rule of law and letting the law decide. But not everyone shared their enthusiasm for law.

Members of the Fang wanted him executed. They wanted blood. I was pretty damn sure if his trial went inconclusive, they were going to secure it themselves.

The faunus and politics aside, Royal and Imperial had done much for both and it was time to come back to what we were supposed to do, making guns. 

"What paper?" Emerald asked again. 

"While our forces displayed significant courage and talent in the face of the Grimm, there were notable elements that affected the performance of our troops. Many times, our lines faced significant danger in being overrun during the defense with disaster being averted by Specialist and Huntsman units responding to the emergency. If aura-users were absent, there is a real possibility that they would have been fully over-run," I narrated to Emerald. The not quite little girl looked at me blankly. 

​"What can you get out of this problem, Emerald?" I asked. 

​She paused, her face scrunched in thought. "Um..."

​This would be a surreal conversation to have back at Earth. Who would speak weapons and tactics to children? But Remnant ran on different rules, not when people were more than happy to send their teenaged children against the Grimm.

After much time, she answered. "They need guns that can help his soldiers fight Grimm. If they do not have aura like us, they need to have guns that can shoot better."

I smiled as she gave her answer. "Good answer, Emerald."

​She hugged her teddy bear a bit tighter. Dad had taken a liking to little Emerald, treating her with surprising gentleness and grace. I had long known that he had wanted to give me a sister back when my mother was alive but it never happened. Hell, she was spending much more time with him than me when he had free time if she wasn't hiding from the maids. 

Speaking of whom...

"Aren't you supposed to be with the maids, Emerald?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. 

She went still as a ghost. And just as if reality was listening, there was a knock at my door. "Sir?" asked a female voice. 

My eyes still at Emerald, who mouthed at me not to sell her out, I replied. "Yes?" 

"Is Emerald there? She said she wanted to go to the bathroom but it's been ten minutes. She still has lessons to do," reported the concerned voice. 

"Please don't tell her," Emerald whispered to me, eyes wide and pleading.

​I shrugged. "No, she's not in here. Why don't you try my father's room?" I replied. And with that, the maid walked off, her footsteps echoing then fading.

Emerald sighed in relief.

It had been months since I had taken Emerald off the streets in Vale and the effects showed for itself, she was healthier now, cleaner now. Seeing her like this, I had to admit that I had no idea what to do with Emerald now. Sure, I had wanted to take her in for her talents but seeing her like this, safe and sound, my resolve to use her as a weapon was just fizzling. It was a mistake to adopt her and treat her like family. Once you get attached to something, its much harder to think of her as a thing. 

Ironic, I was going to inherit a company that would industrialize mass death yet here I am, hesitant to spend the life of Emerald. 

"You're correct that Atlas needs support equipment for the Army and Navy. What's going to happen is, I am going to be thinking about what sort of equipment to forge." I said, taking my mind off Emerald.

General Ironwood's paper had become a widely acclaimed piece circulated around Atlas's military scene describing shortcomings of its military. The first glaring issue was the lack of support equipment both light and heavy that ground forces could use against Grimm hordes. Then there was the insufficient nature of Atlas's air support which did not have dedicated aircraft that could support ground forces against Grimm and transport men and material quickly. When the miners were all taken, there were issues with transport as the Bullheads and Mantas proved insufficient to take everyone. Some equipment had to be abandoned as the snow storm was getting close. 

The shit we brought there were transported by civilian companies. While converting a civilian transport was possible, it was better to have a dedicated transport for the military. 

Transport was the most important thing to note for me before I would pass this off. Coming off from what I had seen, I was going to base the list depending on the capacity of the Atlesian Navy which honestly, wasn't much. Which was why I was going to convince father dearest to let us purchase an aeronautic and vehicle company to expand our reach. At the moment, we were limited by the fact that our current Foundry made guns mostly. It was time to go beyond that now.

Firstly, the infantry. Ironwood made no mention of giving the average grunt anymore than he needed. Still, better to sell it than not sell it and besides, the Silver Shields needed equipment as well. They already had their Defender rifle, Buzzsaws, and Deuces. Now they needed something heavier for the tankier Grimm. 

RPG-7; portable, re-usable, unguided. It did not have the precision of a Javelin nor did it give the same punch. It did not need to, however. It just needed to do a good job. Following after that, a recoilless rifle. With the RPG, it seemed redundant to even have the Carl Gustav but there was a notable difference between the two. The RPG was light and could be carried nearly everywhere. A squad defense weapon. For the Carl Gustav, it was to be station-

I paused in my thoughts.

Again, I was trapped in my too Terran thinking. 

The average Remnanite could haul a MG3 or .50 caliber machine gun with no issue. As long as it wasn't a literal cannon, they could handle weight.

But then again, both the RPG and the Gustav fulfilled its roles. The Marines I was sure would appreciate the RPG. It would suit their style of rapid-deployment and the Army could carry the Gustav as they would follow the Marines. Then again, Ironwood could use the arms we would produce however the hell he wants. R&I would make the tools, it was up to the user how to utilize it.

Next, mortars. The mortar was the most basic artillery piece that any squad could rely on to give them fire support. Two mortar pieces came to mind; a 60 mm mortar and a 120 mm that could be carried by infantry with no need for special equipment. Sure, the 120 mm one would be heavy but that was the point of it. The shells would have a dust core which would make the effects vary. Fire dust shells would burn anything in it, ice dust would freeze anything caught by it, so on and so forth. Again, making non-Dust shells would be possible but I would have to go forge those as well. 

But hey, these would fetch top lien from Atlas. All this effort would be worth it.

Then, there was artillery. Again with the assumption that it had to be carried by the Atlesian Navy, ease of transport was the main thing to consider. 

First things first for artillery, there was no finer example than the Flak 88. While primarily used as anti-aircraft, it could pierce through tanks with no problem. It was easy to transport as well and could be set up anywhere and everywhere. A wonderful defense system to punch through even the strongest Grimm. It seemed fu-

I paused as I felt Emerald sit on my lap. 

​I glanced down and was about to say something but paused as I saw her looking up at me.

"I want to sleep," she declared.

"There's the bed, you know?" I replied.

"No," she declared yet again before falling asleep against my chest. Bemusement rose within me but I accepted my fate to be her bed. And so with Emerald on my lap and snoozing, I continued on. 

Taking a Flak 88, a World War 2 relic, seemed ridiculous. By the technological standards of Atlas, it would be massively obsolete in the face of lasers and railguns. Obsolete did not mean it was no longer useful. And besides, there was a reason why even Atlas dedicated the good shit in its arsenal to airships. 

It was expensive. 

Anyway, it was not as if Atlas was going on a crusade to rid Solitas of Grimm. These things were meant for point-defense and support. 

Then, the artillery pieces. 

105 and 155. Ironwood needed artillery batteries, he was going to get them. He wanted to blow shit up, he was going to get it at its most basic. Both were going to be like the mortars lobbing either dust-filled shells or conventional high-explosive ones. With such things in his arsenal, he'd wield tools that can pummel the hell out of any surface area and whatever Grimm decided to stay there. Since Grimm responded to sight or fear, I was quite sure artillery crew were safe from attack as they would be far from the combat zone. If any of his crews were attacked then that was his damn fault. 

I was well aware that the effectiveness of Terran arty wasn't just because of the skill of the crew but also of other systems that made shooting effective. That system being GPS or Global Positioning System. Due to that, any user of GPS had realtime information of wherever they were. GPS was possible only because of satellites and Remnant did not have any. 

Yet. 

I still needed to find out how to put satellites in orbit from the means to launch it to the literal satellite itself. As far as I knew, there were attempts to head into space but the dust stopped working. With our current level of tech, we should have been in space by now but no, Dust was a little shit that decided it was too lazy to work in atmosphere. Plus with everything running on dust to literal clocks, Remnant's tech would stop working in space. 

​I could theoretically forge an entire rocket and...

You know what.

Thank god my semblance was bullshit. 

​I'll just have to forge a rocket and let the eggheads touch the fucking thing. 

+++

A/N: So to list, we have 60mm and 120mm mortar. Then a RPG-7, a Carl Gustav, and 105 and 155 mm artillery. Fairly contemporary pieces that Remnant's industrial capacity can produce. These are things which will be produced for Atlas with much more to come. For now, we are tickling off the basics. Then we can explore the more fascinating shit when Ironwood calls back to report.

And Emerald detects the scent of Winter. She does not like it.