Chapter One

Weiss held the last note of the song, letting the gentle, sweet melody echo out across the empty concert hall.

"An excellent performance, Miss Schnee."

Her aide's compliments were as expected as they were empty. Oh, they were no doubt sincere, but Weiss knew when she was performing below her best. She'd hoped that it was simply lack of practice, but the closer the concert drew, the more she struggled to sing with anything approaching life. Her chosen song should have been a gentle, uplifting serenade, but instead it sounded saccharine. Her notes were pure, but the inflections were flat. Her volume was nuanced, but her timbre was shallow. She could sing better – she knew she could sing better – but she just couldn't get past this block.

Weiss let out a frustrated sigh. The next act was already moving onto the stage. She wanted to storm out of the concert hall, walk straight to her room in the Schnee mansion and shut herself in for the next two months. Instead, she calmly paced to the exit. Maybe she could find a corner backstage to sit and brood.

"Evenin' Schnee."

Weiss glanced up. A lanky boy in a pinstripe waistcoat was passing her, giving a polite nod of acknowledgement and tilting the brim of his hat with a silver trumpet. She managed a weak smile and an automatic curtsey in response. "Master Coal," she replied, continuing on with only the briefest of pauses. Flynt Coal raised an eyebrow as the heiress disappeared into the eaves. Then, with a shrug, he turned his attention back to the rehearsal.


"E-excuse me ma'am, but is there anything I can get you?" came a nervous voice.

"Hmm?" Weiss said vaguely, snapping out of her fugue to focus on her aide. She was a newer addition to the mansion's domestic staff, hired after Weiss' departure for Beacon. Interacting purely with her parents and brother hadn't done the woman's confidence any favours it seemed.

"No, that's alright Calico, thank you." Calico dithered for a while, uncertain what to do with herself. Two years ago, Weiss might have brought her to task for lack of professionalism. These days she needed what little informality she could get. "Why don't you go get yourself a drink of something? I'll be fine for a while."

Calico bobbed in acknowledgement. Weiss leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. The sound of her aide's footsteps soon faded, lost behind the general murmur of the rehearsal. None of the other performers interacted with Weiss – you could almost see the line they refused to cross. To think she would actually grow to miss the forwardness and casual attitude of her Beacon classmates, where her lineage was little more than a curiosity. Nothing like the deference and formal respect that greeted her in Atlas. Here, the Schnee name cast a long shadow, and no-one was willing to stand in it.

Well, with one notable exception.

"Keepin' busy, I see."

Weiss opened one eye to watch Flynt sit down in a nearby chair, letting his legs take up half the floor. She gave a non-committal shrug.

"Song's coming along... well," he continued, trying a different tack.

"There's no need to be diplomatic," Weiss replied, closing her eye again. "A frank assessment won't bruise my ego."

Flynt deflated. "That obvious I'm keeping the gloves on?" he asked. "Well, if you insist... it is pretty dull."

"Dull my foot, it's practically lifeless." Weiss gave a frustrated sigh and sat up, crossing her arms and legs. "I sound like a pre-teen who's still scared of the audience. It's embarrassing! If Father hadn't-" She bit her tongue. She must have really been out of sorts if she was blurting out private family matters in public like that. "I need some fresh air," she announced suddenly, standing up and reaching for her coat. Leaving a confused Flynt behind, she began throwing the thick fur garment over her shoulders as she quick-marched for the exit.


Weiss walked briskly down the side street that backed the theatre, hands buried in the pockets of her pea-coat. Puffs of breath trailed in the frigid Atlesian air above her, and the light snowfall muffled the rhythmic clacking of her boots. She didn't have a clear notion of where she was going; more important that she kept walking. She felt like she might start screaming if she stopped.

That was another thing which proved how out-of-sorts she was – the barely repressed emotional outbursts. She'd managed to keep her interactions with Father polite – indeed, for the first few months she couldn't summon the energy to do otherwise – but now it was becoming a daily trial. Even her singing, once her escape, had become another millstone around her neck.

Weiss turned to follow the footpath as it reached an intersection. Light traffic moved along the street, dust engines thrumming. There was a click, a soft buzz, and the streetlamps flickered to life, casting no discernable shadows in the twilight. Weiss slowly veered away from the road, wandering into one of the city parks. Evergreen trees rose from artificial hillocks, shielding a sculpture that couldn't decide if it was abstract art or a children's playground. Weiss walked past it and made for the railing around one of the conifers, leaning her elbows against the metal and heaving a sigh. There was nothing to be done. She couldn't defy Father, not here in Atlas. Petulance would only lead to more trouble later on. She would have to grit her teeth, hold her chin up, and maintain decorum. The Schnee Family way, she thought bitterly to herself.

"Miss Schnee? Miss Schnee!" Calico's panicked voice came from behind. Weiss took a deep breath, arranging her polite servant's smile before turning to face the flustered chaperone.

"Sorry for running off without telling you, I needed some time to think."

"You shouldn't do that!" Calico admonished, panic overriding deference. "Your father would be incredibly displeased if he knew!"

"Well then, I'll make sure I don't mention it to him," Weiss replied, walking past Calico and making her way back to the theatre.


Next rehearsal, Weiss made a point to seek Flynt out backstage. "Master Coal?" Weiss called as she found his band.

"Y'know, you can just call me Flynt," he said as he turned. "Master Coal makes it sound like I'm about to inherit something."

"I wanted to apologise for leaving without explanation yesterday..."

"Hey, don't worry, you gave plenty explanation. You can't sing worth a damn, your father's making life difficult and it's all become too much to handle."

"Wh- You-" Weiss managed to bristle at Flynt's bluntness. "That's just you speculating. I was having an off day, that's all." Flynt couldn't hide an amused chuckle. Weiss glowered and folded her arms. "Look, I came here to apologise, not to have aspersions cast over my singing ability. I'll be fine."

"'Course you will." Flynt twirled his trumpet around his fingers and brought it to his lips. "But, uh... on the off chance you are off-game, come hit me up, I've got an idea to fix it."

"I'm telling you, I won't be needing it."

"Uh-huh." Flynt gave a sage nod and began to warm up on the trumpet. Weiss gave a 'chuh!' of annoyance and sauntered back to her section of the dressing rooms.


Weiss marched offstage so quickly she almost collided with the stagehands. The deferential way the throng usually parted was replaced with hurried hops and sidesteps to clear a path in time. She turned off from the main green room – she was in no mood to deal with Calico right now. Instead she made her way into the staff kitchen. Finding it empty, she flung the door closed and began pacing up and down the linoleum, repeatedly clenching her fists.

That performance hadn't been dull, it had been abysmal. No emotion, no body, no craft. At one point in the chorus her voice had actually cracked – cracked! She brought her hands up to comb through her hair in frustration. Strands of it came loose from her ponytail, accentuating her frazzled state. It didn't make sense. The more she tried to immerse herself in the music, the more clumsy and amateurish she became.

"I'm guessing you weren't happy with that?"

Weiss froze, looking up at Flynt casually leaning against the door frame. Her mouth hung open as she tried to articulate a retort. Eventually, she clenched her jaw and slammed both fists against the fridge door.

"That was atrocious! It was like I'd never sung a note before in my life!" Weiss went back to her angry pacing, half-forgetting Flynt was there. "I wouldn't present that at a birthday party, let alone a charity concert!"

Flynt shrugged "The MC didn't seem to mind."

"Well that's because the MC-" Weiss bit back a venemous comment.

"...the MC ain't a musician," Flynt said. "And musicians know when they're performing badly, even if the whole audience loves it."

"...Yes," Weiss said, voice softening as she looked at Flynt curiously. Flynt returned the look, considering the diminutive heiress like a puzzle. Coming from most people that expression would have put Weiss on edge, but in Flynt's case she found herself tolerating it. Ever since they'd fought in the Vytal tournament, the two had shared an... odd relationship. Weiss certainly wouldn't have considered it a friendship, but she'd managed to earn the boy's respect and she was surprised to realise that meant something to her.

Flynt suddenly straightened his stance, tapping the side of his nose as if he'd just stumbled across the idea he'd mentioned earlier. "You know what you need? A night on the town. Find a nice joint, get a fancy wine and some cheese or something, kick your heels up, unwind."

"That's not..." Weiss began, prepared to turn down the suggestion on principle. Something made her pause though. In her current state, that actually sounded quite enticing.

"...My aide wouldn't let me wander off alone to a bar," Weiss said, offering up a half-hearted resistance.

"Bring her along then," Flynt replied.

"I take it you have a place in mind?"

Flynt reached into the breast pocket of his waistcoat, curling his wrist and flicking a card across the kitchen. It slid across the countertop, spinning to a halt next to Weiss. She picked it up and read the text.

"Give it a go, it'll help clear your head."