"…With a blatant disregard to my instruction, he engaged Mr. Winchester in a short battle. While I understand testosterone and hormones can run high at this age, I still expect a certain level of respect and order from any student." Glynda finished her brief report on the incident, switching off her scroll and putting it away as she waited for the verdict.

"Mr Winters. Do you have anything to say for yourself? Any defence?" A deep male voice asked which was followed by the man the voice belonged to taking a sip of his coffee. First day problems weren't a big issue with Professor Ozpin. He'd hosted other schools within Beacon before, and students had gotten in trouble on the first day before. It was all part of the transition process.

"Not really, no. I did disobey a direct order from the instructor, and took a problem I was having with another student into my own hands. I will say that I was acting on what I was taught at my home school." Colden replied in a calm, practically diplomatic voice as he sat in the chair with his arms crossed, one of his feet tapping against the floor constantly.

"Oh? And what were you taught, exactly?" Ozpin inquired, putting down his mug as he stared at the teenager across from him, putting his hands together as he gave him a harsh stare.

"You can't stop a bully from being a bully, sir. But you can sure as…"Colden paused, looking from Glynda, and then to back Ozpin before continuing."…heck knock them down a couple pegs. Mr Winchester is a bully, and an arrogant one at that. I was simply teaching him a brief lesson in humility and levelheadedness. He may have called me out, but I instigated the fight"

"But in the process, got yourself in trouble. Was it worth it?" Ozpin asked, raising an eyebrow. The kid actually knew how to talk pretty well. His dark brown eyes darted from looking at the teenager for a second, and the man began to smile broadly.

"Meh. Not my first time, and it sure won't be my last time. So I'm going to say yes. So, what are you thinking? Detention? Manual Labour? Writing Lines?" Colden asked with a sly smirk. Said smirk was quick to vanish as a massive hand touched down on his shoulder for the second time that day. It was now clear why Ozpin and Glynda had begun to smile.

Asmund the Berserker had arrived.

"Ozpin. Do an old man a favour and crack a window wide. It's been a while since I've been this far south, so I am sweltering. Now, I understand my pupil got himself into trouble, yet again?" The warrior spoke much like his student, being polite but firm with the people hosting him. Ozpin hit a button on his desk and the window behind it opened wide, letting a cool breeze enter the room.

"It's good to see you again Asmund. You're looking well. And to answer your question, yes. He got into a fight with another student despite my instruction not to." Glynda greeting the massive man with a small bow of her head and a smile.

"A picture of Power and Etiquette as always, Ms. Goodwitch. It's a pleasure to see you as well. Excuse my pupils' behaviour for the moment. I believe the new locale has gotten them quite riled up." Asmund Newgate was many, many things. A berserker. A teacher. A War Hero. A Warrior. A Husband, Father, and Grandfather. But above all else, he was a gentleman. One of the first lessons he taught was that of respecting your hosts. How he acted in front of the headmaster was a modest example of this, even though he was currently lifting Colden up by the scruff of his neck for the second time that day.

"Is he wrong, Mr. Winters?" Ozpin chimed in, having sat back in his chair as he watched the old master work.

"Well…yeah. I guess he's not wrong. New place, new people, new fights. Gets a guy pretty antsy and trigger happy. Not that I used my gun or the trigger-" Colden was cut off as Asmund growled, shutting the teenager up temporarily.

"Well, I think it's only fair if you work that energy off. Twenty-five laps around the grounds sound fair enough?" Asmund proposed after sighing heavily, rubbing a sore spot on his neck with a free hand.

"Fair enough. I'm guessing this is ending the usual way?" Colden asked, seemingly tensing a little bit as he was raised higher and higher off the ground by the mountain of a man.

"I've taught you well, my student. See you at dinner." Asmund stated simply and reared his arm back and then forward again at a much higher speed, throwing Colden right out the open window behind Ozpin.

"Goongala! GOONGALA! GOONGALAAAAAAA!" The battle cry could be heard as Colden fell from the tower, laughing like a maniac, while Glynda temporarily adapted a look of shock on her face.

"Do you…uh..do that often to your students, Mr. Newgate? And please, do take a seat." Glynda asked, adjusting her glasses. The Viking's mighty throw had plenty of power behind it, and they had been jostled during the process.

"Just with Colden. His semblance ensures that he'll land just fine. And please, call me Asmund. Makes me feel old." He said, taking Colden's previously vacated seat, the wooden chair groaning under his weight. He was truly a massive man, standing at six foot seven without a sign of flab or fat, the black sleeveless shirt he wore to cover his chest straining to do so, while the same could not be said for his admittedly loose cream coloured pants. Said pants ended when they met a pair of black books, spit shined clean, and were tied around his waist by a navy blue cloth. Resting on his back and shoulders was a massive, ornate black jacket that showed off Asmund's former military lifestyle and was somehow able to perpetually rest on his shoulders without falling off. Epaulette covered the outer edge of each shoulder of the white jacket, with the gold decoration also acting as a way to close the jacket if need be. The inside of it was a fine velvet material and a dark red one at that, and seemed to be lovingly cared for all around.

"Darling, if you feel any old I'm afraid you might go off and die on me. Throwing our students out the window so often will give you a hernia" A quiet, frail-sounding voice added to conversation as a small, hunched over woman calmly hobbled into the room, a few large strands of her off-white hair hanging under her hood. She sat down in one of the remaining chairs as she hummed a song to herself. She wore a ornate, gold trimmed, dark red hood over her head, part of a robe that covered her entire body, and was covered by a large, black fur with the same trimmings. The woman seemed downright tiny in comparison when sitting next to her husband, even more so considering her permanently hunched back and ratty, dishevelled hair.

"Fiora, my sweet, I appreciate the concern, but I didn't mean what I said. I was simply using the saying to-" The massive man was then cut off as his wife interrupted him, and the Viking neglected to fight it.

"Asmund, my darling. You promised me that you would relax while we visited Beacon. Throwing your "favourite" student around may be a step down from what you usually do, but so help me if your hurt yourself.." She spoke in the same slightly withered voice as her husband tried to formulate a defence, and ultimately had to no response to give. Ozpin had to snort into his coffee to conceal what could only be described as rare chuckle as he watched one of the most powerful men on earth get disabled by his wife. Glynda was doing her best too stay composed, but it was getting tough for her, one of the more stoic teachers at Beacon.

"Mister and Missus Newgate, would either care for a beverage? Perhaps a coffee, or tea?" Ozpin finally interjected into the lover's quiet quarrel, bringing the attention of the pair to him. Perhaps the two headmasters could finally catch up now. After all, he did have a schedule to keep.

"Better if we didn't. We've crossed a few time zones over the past week, and caffeine would screw up our internal clocks even more. Tell me, Ozpin. How are things faring down here? I've heard a lot of interesting stories about what's happened." Asmund answered, and then inquired with a small grin, sitting back in his chair, stroking his perfectly manicured moustache. The chair groaned, struggling to take his weight, but seemed to hold.

"Hopefully, you haven't heard anything too far from the truth. A small number of my students have taken it upon themselves to attack a crime syndicate in their first year. How they go about it caused a vehicle or two to crash into the bay." Ozpin sipped on his eternally-full cup of java between sentences, trying to skim over the topic. It was an internal matter, and he didn't need any more people getting involved. Ironwood was already sticking his deep into that.

"Well, I commend them for taking the initiative, instead of waiting for trouble to come to them." Asmund sat up in his seat again, clearly very interested, his chin resting on one of his hands.

"It helps that you tell our students to think for themselves. Drill it right into their brains. You're Huntsmen and Huntresses…"

"…Not soldiers." Glynda and Ozpin said simultaneously. The old man was known for his little catchphrases and sayings, but that was the most common to be heard.

"Ironic, considering that your senior staff is made up of former soldiers. How is your staff? Any new blood join the ranks?" Ozpin interjected, pushing his glasses up from the end of his nose.

"All in good health, despite the journey. Darvanshel, that determined old codger, even managed to teach a few classes when we stopped for the night." Asmund said with a chuckle, thinking of his right-hand man and oldest friend outside of Fiora. The sword-and-shield wielding man was determined to continue his lessons no matter what, even if it meant that he simply sparred with his students two or three at a time. His sword and shield were large enough to create the iron defence that was needed to take on his students, and his energy levels gave him the edge he needed to teach.

"As for new blood, just one this year. Lancia Cross has become the head chef in our kitchens. Keeps order in the cafeteria while she's at it, too." Fiora answered the latter question after her husband neglected to, one of her hands reaching up to rub the back of her neck.

"Ms. Cross…the girl who used a giant frying pan in combat?" Glynda asked, as it had been some time since Beacon had been in contact with Asmund Academy. That must have been…six or seven years since she had seen a class from that school.

"The very same. She's upgraded her weapon since she graduated. Has these remote controlled utensils that slice up the Grimm. Really a wonderful weapon to watch when she works." Fiora answered Glynda's question with a bit of a giggle, thinking of the red-headed girl they were speaking of.

"Well, give her my best. She seemed to be a promising young lady when I last saw her." Glynda said after a momentary pause, in which an awkward silence inserted itself. Within that moment, a small explosion could be heard through the open window. Asmund and Fiora looked at each other before the huge man stood, cracking his neck gently by moving his head from side to side.

"You'll have to excuse me Ozpin. I need to go check on something." The latter half of his sentence gained a grim tone as he walked out of the room, his hands tightening the black bandanna that sat upon his head as he went. Glynda, after adopting a worried look on her face, shared a glance with Ozpin, and followed the Viking out of the room.

"So…any bets on who caused the disturbance?" Ozpin stood as he spoke, going over to his personal coffee maker, which was installed into the far wall, getting himself another hot cup of coffee.

"Ours, without a doubt. They're wonderful kids, really. I love them like they're my own, but sometimes I just wish they would calm down. They're always so loud, so full of life, and hyperactive. I.." Fiora trailed off with a sigh, groaning a bit as she rubbed her back.

"Envy them?" Ozpin guessed, sitting back down behind his desk, sitting back in his chair.

"Worry for them. There are more than a couple nutcases in this world that will prosecute them for what they are. It's just a matter of how long it is until a nutcase gets himself a small army." Fiora answered, wringing her hands nervously, rocking gently in her chair.

"I have faith in your teaching style, Mrs Newgate. Your students may be rambunctious, but they all have the best of intentions. You've taught them well. Without I doubt, I'm sure your students will be able to survive what life throws at them.

"I'm guessing you're talking about that certain northern nutcase with a violent and derogatory agenda?" Ozpin inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, yes I am. Asmund thinks he's all talk, and no action. But some days, I hear what he says and I can't help but worry.'

"You, of all people, are afraid of what he says?" Ozpin was sceptical that the experienced woman.

"No. I'm afraid of what he'll do when people start listening."