So it is done

Atlas

James Ironwood never liked autumn. The days would slowly grow colder, time seems to pass faster, and old wounds would begin to ache due to the change in the weather...

James never liked autumn, even before the 'Tragedy' happened. He still felt the bullet stuck in his shoulder from a smuggler from Vacuo, his knee being pierced by an Ursa's claws, and the burns from the semblance of that Mistral crime lord.

They all ached every time the weather changed, something which happened all too often in fall even in Atlas, a place always protected by the heating system...

If not for his part in what had happened, then James could even praise Arthur Watts for improving and maintaining such a thing.

He would, if he hadn't lost half of his body because of Arthur. Though then again, he did pay for his mistake with his life, and there's no need to speak ill of the dead. As tempting as it is each time he was reminded of what he had lost.

James Ironwood slowly ran a mechanical hand over his face, performing his daily ritual to wake himself up. Something that he needed to do to get used to his mechanical limbs. The mechanical parts of his body obeyed him well, but they took some time getting used to.

Even now, after... One and a half years? Was it already that long? Yes - a year and a half after that tragedy, he still sometimes forgot himself, accidentally squeezing his hand too hard, breaking yet another desk or even bursting another mug... Getting used to this takes too long.

Still, no need to dwell on things that cannot be changed. Getting up from his bed, James stretched out his living hand to the pile of clothes on the dresser he had prepared before sleep. First the shirt, then pants, belt, jacket, cloak, holster - and finally, gloves. James had never worn gloves until that tragedy. It was always a disquieting thing, putting gloves over his robotic hand, but he did not want to see in the eyes of the people of Atlas, in the eyes of his subordinates any semblance of pity or sympathy - this surprised look when they saw his iron hand.

He is the Brothers-damned General Ironwood! Even after what had happened, he was the bloody general and commander-in-chief of the Atlas army, the headmaster of the Atlas Hunter Academy, the supreme commander of the Atlas sky fleet! He was not a cripple, he was a general!

Finally, pulling gloves over his palms with perhaps too much force, James looked into his reflection in the mirror... He feels much older than he really is.

Thirty-eight years old... Was he really that old? Then he glanced at the calendar hanging next to him and sighed. Two more weeks, and he would be thirty-nine.

James Ironwood, Headmaster and General. Not a cripple.

He couldn't show any weakness. In fact, He had no weakness! He must be clean-shaven and well-groomed, his teeth white as the driven snow, his jacket ironed and crisp, his pistol clean and glistening, he must walk with a confident gait, with a stern gaze and an aura of invincibility.

He is James Ironwood, he must not be weak.

Satisfied with his grooming, he walked a few steps to the bathroom, then reached out for his toothbrush and began his morning ablutions.

He's supposed to leave his room in fifteen minutes, say hello to his deputy, make his way to the tower, and then go up to his office, where dozens of letters and reports will be waiting for him...

What is in store for him today? James spat and thought as he brushed his teeth and glanced at the reports he had brought to the bathroom with him..

Some sort of scandal? I see, Jacques has forbidden anyone from the newly founded Kingdom of Glenn to do any business with Atlas, at least the businesses he controls. Really that man... Does he not see the damage this will do to their diplomatic standing? Especially since that man had been talking to anyone that would listen, that Jonathan - King Osmond now - is to blame for robbing his bank... Accusing a leader of a Kingdom, small as it might be, of such a crime is such a stupid move that only a man like Jacques is capable of such a stupidity.