章節 31: Private Agreement

"I suppose I should be flattered." Ironwood's tone remained cordial, but as he shifted gears, his expression settled into a measured neutrality. His next question was delivered without pretense.

"So, should I assume you're the one responsible for creating those drones?"

Asher drained the last of his punch and casually set the empty glass on the buffet table.

"That's right," he confirmed.

Ironwood studied him silently for a moment, his thoughts churning.

If I'm not mistaken, he only turned fourteen earlier this year. Yet this child had engineered drones that even some of Atlas's finest minds couldn't replicate.

It was almost laughable. He had reviewed footage of Asher's drones in action, paired with the detailed report from the Atlas Security Oversight Division (ASOD) and sent it over to some of his best engineers. Yet their findings mirrored what the division chief and colonel had concluded before bringing the case to his attention.

The technology used in those drones simply didn't exist yet—not at the level they were being displayed. Some aspects matched theoretical designs, but the practical application was still considered years, if not decades, away. The implausibility of it only deepened Ironwood's curiosity, compelling him to track down the source.

And now, here that source was—barely tall enough to meet his chest.

"I see," Ironwood said finally, his curiosity barely masked. He leaned in slightly.

"Then, may I ask how you managed it? From the background check I ran, you've never attended any engineering school or received formal training in mechanics. While you've always been a remarkably intelligent child with top grades, that alone doesn't explain your ability to create something so advanced." Asher met Ironwood's gaze evenly, a small shrug accompanying his response.

"I'm afraid there's no grand secret for you to uncover, nor any hidden teacher if that's what you're implying. I'm self-taught. Everything I know, I learned on my own. The drones are my original design. Sure, they're still prototypes, but you won't find anything like them anywhere else in the world—at least not for a few years." That last statement gave Ironwood pause, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Those words matched exactly what his own team had reported to him.

"So, you're telling me you're simply a natural-born prodigy? And for the past fourteen—no, I suppose I should say ten years, considering your coma—you've been hiding this talent from everyone, even your parents?" Ironwood's tone carried a sharp edge of skepticism as he eyed Asher closely.

Asher raised an eyebrow at the accusation, his own voice tinged with dry humor.

"What, is that so hard to believe? Or would you rather go with your idea? That before I even turned ten, I was secretly building tech in my attic that your scientists, who you invest billions into couldn't dream up—all right under my parents' noses?" The logic was absurd either way, but it was clear which option sounded more plausible.

Ironwood considered it for a moment before exhaling a long breath, his expression softening slightly.

"Fair enough." He shifted his stance, adopting a more relaxed tone.

"Then let me ask you a different question. If you really are self-taught, why now? Why create the drones? You're more than smart enough to know they'd attract attention. In fact, based on our conversation, it's clear you wanted this attention. So the real question is why? I find it hard to believe you did all this just to help your parents' company." There it was.

Ironwood's voice carried the weight of someone cutting through the surface to reach the heart of the matter.

He wants to know my motives. Or maybe, it's not just motives. Maybe he wants to gauge my convictions. Try to figure out if I'm someone he can work with—or someone he should watch. I wonder what kind of answer the General of the Atlas Military would want. That I did it for the betterment of our kingdom? That I want to partner with him to make the world safer? Or is he hoping I'll give a naive, self-serving answer? Something he can manipulate.

The thoughts circled in Asher's mind like vultures as he weighed his response. Finally, he spoke, his demeanor growing more serious.

"I've lived a very privileged life, General," Asher began, his tone calm but edged with a deeper emotion.

"The road before me was carved long before I was born. The empire of my family? Prebuilt." He cast a brief glance toward the Schnee family, his gaze lingering for a moment before continuing.

"I don't have any siblings to compete with for the inheritance. And aside from my parents, there aren't many people I truly care about." When Asher turned his focus back to Ironwood, there was a sudden intensity in his eyes—something raw and unspoken that momentarily unsettled the general.

"Yet, despite all that, I fell into a coma on my tenth birthday. My parents could do nothing but cry and hope. Even when I finally woke up, it was by sheer luck. The best doctors in Atlas could only keep me alive. No answers, no explanation. Just uncertainty. And that made me realize something." His voice dipped slightly.

"We live in a world built on the edge of a cliff—a fragile foundation teeters on the border of ignorance, General. And all it will take is one quake, one powerful enough to shake our roots, to send us all plummeting to the rocky shores below." Asher's eyes seemed to drift past Ironwood, staring into memories he couldn't suppress.

How many years had he spent in that coma? How much had he seen? The details were fragmented, slipping further from his grasp with every passing day. But one thing remained clear: the world wasn't ready for what he had glimpsed. Its leaders and people were too shortsighted, too blind to see the cracks until they widened.

A civilization of sand, still blissfully unaware of the wave coming to sweep it away.

"I don't know about you, General," Asher said, his voice sharpening, "but I refuse to live in a house of glass. If everyone else wants to waste their time admiring their reflections and tracing the patterns on the walls, then I'll do what's necessary—I'll shatter the illusion myself."

This was no idealistic fantasy, no naive dream. Asher had long understood the futility of trying to save the world as it was. Too many factions, too many agendas, too much greed, and strife stood in the way of true progress.

So, he would take a different path—a thankless, thorn-covered road that would likely set him against the very world he sought to save. He would tear it all down to its foundations before the catalyst he had foreseen arrived and do it first. And then, he would rebuild it all from scratch stronger than before.

Ironwood listened intently, his expression unreadable. There was no shock or disbelief, no amusement or condescension in his gaze. Instead, he studied Asher with quiet understanding. And just beneath that, a flicker of something else.

Ozpin... How long has it been since I've seen someone with eyes so much like yours?

The thought lingered in Ironwood's mind as he closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again.

"So, you plan to change the world through your technology? Do you really think you can pull that off?" Ironwood asked, his curiosity evident.

Asher chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"Of course not. If it were that simple, I wouldn't have gone to such lengths to meet you. The world doesn't change on ideals alone, no matter how grand they might be." Ironwood's expression blanked momentarily, then he chuckled as well.

"Yes, I suppose that would make things far too easy. In that case, let me rephrase. What exactly do you want from me?" Ironwood waited, prepared to hear Asher's request, but instead, he saw the young man shake his head again.

"You've got it backward, General. Instead of asking what I want from you, you should ask the opposite." Asher's gaze locked with Ironwood's, unwavering.

"You came to me because you're interested in what I can do—what my abilities could mean for you and Atlas as a whole. So, go ahead. Name what you want, and in return, I'll tell you exactly what it'll cost." For the first time since their conversation began, Ironwood appeared genuinely surprised.

His brow furrowed slightly as he processed Asher's words.

"You're giving me a blank check?" he asked, his tone laced with both disbelief and curiosity.

It was a rare position for Ironwood. As General of the Atlas Military and Headmaster of Atlas Academy, he was accustomed to giving orders, not making requests. When was the last time he'd been asked to name his own price?

"That's right," Asher said easily, gesturing toward the grand venue around them.

"It seems fitting, don't you think? After all, we're at a charity event—an evening dedicated to exchanging art and effort for the benefit of many." Ironwood leaned slightly closer, testing the waters.

"So, if I told you I wanted to purchase the drones you sold to Frostvale Enterprises for their security, you'd agree?" There wasn't even a beat of hesitation in Asher's response.

"Of course," he replied smoothly.

"Though I'll warn you now, I'd need a hefty down payment upfront. And depending on the number of units you want, you'll have to wait until my factory is fully operational."

"Hmm, alright," Ironwood mused, "and what if I asked for the patents and blueprints of the drones themselves?"

With access to the rights and schematics, Atlas could eventually produce Asher's drones independently. Even if they didn't fully understand the technology now, reverse engineering would take far less time than starting from scratch.

Asher, however, shrugged again, responding as effortlessly as before.

"If that's what you want. But I should remind you—the drones are still prototypes. If you really want them, you might want to wait until they're finished." Ironwood pressed a hand thoughtfully to his chin, observing the boy.

Over his years as a General and Headmaster, he'd encountered countless people—many of whom feigned indifference to what they were offering, all to secure a better deal.

But Asher was different.

No... this boy. If I truly asked for the rights to his drones, I have a feeling that he'd hand them over without a second thought, as long as I gave him what he wanted in return.

That wasn't what intrigued Ironwood most, though. It was what that willingness revealed. Asher wasn't some spoiled child who didn't understand the value of his creations. No, Ironwood refused to believe that. The confidence with which he dismissed the significance of his own blueprints spoke volumes.

He's certain he can surpass them. Whatever his grand vision entails, it's clear he believes he can achieve it—with or without the drones he'd already designed.

Ironwood's curiosity deepened, and he finally voiced his request.

"Alright then. In that case, I want you to prepare a demonstration for me." Asher tilted his head slightly, intrigued.

"A demonstration?"

"That's right. Although, I suppose it would be more accurate to call it a weapons test." Ironwood's tone grew firmer.

"I want you to modify those drones of yours and prove they can be used in combat. It's one thing to design tools, but weapons are an entirely different matter. The test will be private—just me and Special Operative Schnee in attendance—and you have my word that your identity will remain confidential."

"A weapons test, hmm?" Asher pondered to himself for a moment.

"There might be a small legal issue with that, considering I'm still a civilian and a minor. I can't exactly purchase military-grade equipment, and I don't think I need to remind the General of the Atlesian Military what happens to people who get caught building their own weapons." Ironwood smirked at his words.

"Leave the legal matters to me. I'll work with your attorney to ensure everything is above board, and I'll personally authorize any materials or equipment you need. All I ask in return is that you impress me. Do that, and I'll do everything in my power to fulfill any request you make."

He extended his hand toward Asher, his gaze steady.

"What do you say?"

"So, all I have to do is give you a demonstration, and you'll let me pick your pockets? Even without actually giving you anything? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to get on my good side and turn this into a lasting partnership," Asher remarked, a sly edge to his tone.

Ironwood's smirk widened at the comment.

"What can I say? I try to make good impressions on the people I'm interested in." Hearing his own words reflected back at him, Asher couldn't help but mirror the general's expression, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"In that case, I see no reason to refuse." With that, Asher extended his hand, and Ironwood took it. The handshake was an unusual sight—a seasoned general clasping hands with a fourteen-year-old boy. Yet, if the oddness of the moment struck Ironwood, he didn't show it.

"Good to hear," Ironwood said as their handshake ended.

"I'll have Schnee contact you soon." He stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back as he turned to leave.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you, Asher."

Asher didn't turn to watch him go, responding smoothly, "And the same to you, General."

As Ironwood strode away, his eyes fell on two approaching figures—Vance and Nillia Frostvale, their expressions warm and welcoming, though their eyes betrayed a mix of curiosity and guardedness. Ironwood greeted them with a polite nod as he passed.

"Mr. and Mrs. Frostvale, a pleasure."

"General," they replied in unison, offering their own courteous nods before continuing toward their son.

By the time Asher's parents reached him, he had returned to sampling the buffet, his focus on a plate of hors d'oeuvres. He only turned around when the sound of his mother's heels clicking against the polished floor caught his attention.

"Oh, are you two done socializing already?" He asked, his tone casual.

"For now, at least," Nillia replied, though the look she exchanged with Vance made it clear they had something more pressing on their minds.

"I don't think I ever would have guessed that the person you came here to meet was General Ironwood," Vance remarked his expression a mix of curiosity and unease.

"Well," Asher began, spearing a mini beef Wellington with a pick, "if I'd told you, I'd have had to do a lot of explaining. And honestly, having you two hovering nearby during our conversation could've jeopardized things. This way was simpler, don't you think?"

Neither parent could deny the logic in his words. While they didn't consider themselves overbearing, Ironwood wasn't someone they would let their son talk to alone. Still, they chose not to confirm or deny anything. Instead, Nillia got straight to the point.

"So, what did you two talk about?"

"Oh, nothing much," Asher replied, popping the bite-sized treat into his mouth. After chewing and swallowing, he continued.

"He was interested in the drones I made, and we worked out a small deal." Nillia blinked, her surprise evident.

"You're trying to negotiate a military contract?" Vance guessed, his brow furrowing.

Asher shook his head.

"Not exactly. It's more of a... private agreement between me and the general. Nothing's been signed yet, but I won't deny it could head in that direction—especially when I start my own company like I said I would." He paused, noticing the concerned look both his parents were giving him.

With a sigh, he added, "I promise, it's nothing illegal or anything that'll get me in trouble. I'll explain everything once it's finalized, okay?"

Nillia and Vance exchanged a glance, their shoulders relaxing slightly before they let out matching sighs. The tension in their expressions softened.

"We're either the most irresponsible parents in the world or the most trusting," Nillia said, half-joking.

"I'm not sure which is worse in this case," Vance added with a small nod.