Chapter 3: Kumpel
Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil!
While Whitley is just barely containing the string of maniacal laughter threatening to spill out, Jacques coughs into his gloved hand and composes himself. Looking over the data on his scroll - a sort of handheld technological device that acts as both phone and computer at the same time, despite being small enough to fit into a coat pocket - his eyebrows shoot upward for half a moment before he gains control over himself once more.
"Well, congratulations Whitley. Enhancement: D-. Shielding: B-. Regeneration: A. Recharge: A+. Aura Capacity: SSS. You literally have more Aura than both your sisters and I combined. Granted, you are physically only slightly more powerful than a normal civilian and your shielding is average, but i'm almost positive that the number of people who have more raw Aura than you number less than a dozen in all of Remnant."
Whitley has to admit to being rather impressed with himself. He had expected to be pretty average in most things, given his lack of magical ability in his last life, so having his Regeneration and Recharge as above average and an insane Capacity is a pleasant surprise. Perhaps his sheer unwillingness to die had something to do with it? Well, food for later thought he supposes.
"So, what now?" Whitley slowly removes the various sensors attached to him and sits up.
He feels incredible. Is this what it felt like to have the power of a Vampire, without the downsides? Is this how HE felt? Whitley must admit that he can understand a little clearer how such power could be intoxicating.
"Now, you resume your training. I've been keeping tabs on your progress through your instructors and while I am impressed with your academic abilities, your physical traits leave much to be desired. A weakness I suppose you inherited from myself. I always more of a businessman than a fighter. Regardless, it would behoove you to remedy your weaknesses when it comes to combat. Be it physical training, practice with your Semblance, or enlisting the help of our master weaponsmiths to help you craft a weapon fitting of your station. You will not show weakness. Anything less than perfect both on and off the battlefield would belittle the Schnee name."
"Of course father. I shall think upon what you've said. I think i'll start with learning how to properly utilize my Semblance, and perhaps craft a weapon fitting our name once I grow a little more comfortable with my innate abilities." Jacques pauses for a moment in contemplation before nodding.
"So be it. Now, if I recall correctly, you have some free time for the next two hours before your math lessons start for today. I would suggest visiting your sisters in the gym. Perhaps as they've more time to learn, they can offer you some pointers on your Semblance." Whitley knows a silent dismissal when he hears one, and bows deeply to his paternal unit before swiftly exiting the room.
As he walks down the halls, he tugs his gloves tighter onto his hands out of habit. He can still feel his Aura roiling and swirling under his skin. Like his engine had overheated, but without the pain. He can still feel the flames of his spirit wanting to let loose. He has to actively take a moment as he steps up to the door in front of the gym, centering himself and calming his manic grin back into a normal smile. With a suitable amount of flair, he pushes the dual doors open with both hands.
The three people in the large gymnasium stop what they're doing, and deciding to make his entrance even more captivating, Whitley reaches within himself, and lets his Aura flare up for a second. His form is covered with golden flames for a moment before they fade out. He observes his dear sisters reactions.
Winter, ever the frosty picture of perfection, regains her composure near instantly and sheathes her saber in the hilt on her belt as she turns to him fully. She nods towards him as a greeting, face emotionless though Whiteley can read some curiosity in her eyes. Weiss is less reserved.
"Ah, Whitley? Is that really you? I see you went through your Awakening today. Congratulations, little brother!" she tries to maintain winters professionalism, though her smile still breaks through.
"Indeed. Thank you, dear Weiss. Father instructed me to start taking my training more seriously, and I agreed. I was hoping that perhaps you two could give me some pointers in utilizing our Semblance?"
"Of course! I'm not too good at it yet, but Winter is great and i'm willing to do my best to help." Winter's response is more muted, simply being a nod of the head, but Whitley supposes that that's the best he's going to get out of her.
Being led by one hand into the center of the training room, Weiss pulls out a little notebook shaped like a white cat and flips it open to a dog eared page. Reading over her notes a few times, she nods to herself before putting it away once more. Clearing her throat into her hand, she starts to speak, voice clear and obviously a poor attempt at mimicking a teacher.
"The Schnee family, as the only recorded family in the history of Remnant to develop a Semblance that is inherited across generations is subsequently the family to have done the most research into Semblances. Because of this, our knowledge of how Semblances work and how to bring them forth is second to none.
Now, leaving the various Glyphs, their functions, and how to best utilize each of them to optimise combat ability, let us begin by explaining the three primary functions of the Glyphs: Enhancement, Elements, and Echoes. Enhancement Glyphs use Aura to amplify a certain ability of the person affected by them. This can be either making them stronger, faster, or more durable. The basic 'shield' Glyph falls under this category as does the 'stepping stone' Glyph.
Element Glyphs are those which have been enhanced by Dust to create a certain effect, like casting forth a fireball, calling down a strike of lightning, or even altering gravity itself. The more powerful the Dust crystal used to fuel such Glyphs is directly correlated to how powerful the effect is.
The third type of Glyph is the Echo Glyph. Found in the third generation of Schnee by one Vermillion Schnee, the Echo Glyph has the power to create a solid construct of aura that bears the same appearance and basic abilities of anyone the Schnee in question has defeated, be they human, Faunus, or Grimm. Of course, it is only a construct rather than a true replication of the being, meaning human Echoes lack intelligence as well as the power to utilise Aura or any Semblance they had in life.
Now that that's out of the way, let's start your training with the most fundamental and important facet of the Schnee Semblance: summoning a Glyph. It's a pretty straight forward process. Focus your Aura into your hand and imagine projecting it onto the air in front of you similar to painting or conducting."
Whitley stares at Weiss in mild surprise. He knew that his sister had put a lot of effort into catching up with his intellect, but he didn't know that she had memorised the tutorial section of the 'Schnee Training Manual' that he had stumbled on a few years ago. He already knew everything she had just said, but felt that letting her try to explain things would make her feel better and pretended to be clueless.
Of course, knowing and being able to do are two entirely different things. He has the knowledge, now it's time to see if he has the talent. Whitley reaches within himself, pulling on that indomitable determination he was well known for. Slowly, so as to not over charge the technique which was something several generations of Schnee had complained about being incredibly easy to do, he covers his right hand in the golden flames of his Aura. His eyes flash golden for a second as he slashes his hand across the air in front of him, imagining a basic Glyph taking shape in front of him.
An abstract circular shape wavers into existence a few feet in front of Whitley, the same pure gold of his Aura, before shattering like glass and fading. Weiss claps in support while Winter silently nods her head slightly. Whitley's face twists into a sharp smile. Finally, he has some power of his own.
The next three months pass fairly quickly for the young boy. Most of his free time has been spent practicing with his new powers, testing his limits and carefully notating his strengths and weaknesses.
It would appear that his unusually high levels of Aura capacity means he can craft far more Glyphs then either of his sisters before feeling the drain, and his high intellect and experience multitasking and planning several steps in advance allows him to utilise multiple Glyphs at once while his sisters can only hold a few Glyphs at a time. However, it would appear that his high Aura capacity has a downside in that he usually overcharges his Glyphs causing them to be unstable.
His lack of talent for physical activity seems to have carried over to his Semblance as well, with Enhancement Glyphs being all but useless to him. His Elemental Glyphs were better, but again his over-the-top power meant that rather than the controlled bursts that Weiss or Winter were capable of his Glyphs released an explosion of destructive energy in one burst. He hadn't bothered trying to use the Echo Glyph yet, seeing as he would have no way of telling if it was successful or not until he actually defeated someone with his own two hands.
In between training his Semblance and spending some time researching weaponry in order to have a half-way decent one created for him, Whitley somehow accidentally agreed to follow his father on a trip to one of the SDC mines. If memory serves, he had been reading a book about infusing dust into steel during forging to increase its affinity with dust as well as possibly grant it long term powers when his father had said something or other, and Whitley had said yes without bothering to listen to what was said.
As he looks out the window of the bullhead he rides in, whitley wishes he had paid more attention to what was going on around him. Perhaps a decade spent in peace and security had dulled his mind a little? Possible. He'd have to work on that.
Landing, the two male Schnees are greeted by a sweaty overweight man who stands there rubbing his hands together nervously. Whitley can instantly tell based on the pristine dress shirt and pants compared to the generally filthy area that this is the manager of this particular mine, and he's hoping that Jacques doesn't find anything to be displeased about.
Whitley listens in to the greetings with half an ear as he looks about what he can see of the mine from here. All in all it's about what he would expect from something in his first two decades of life, as opposed to the raw opulence and technological intricacies he had come to expect of this world. The whole thing aside from the main building is made of stone, workers wear ragged clothes without any safety gear, they wield pickaxes, and push carts by hand on tracks.
All in all it's terribly inefficient and in ten seconds Whitley could probably list about a dozen ways to increase safety and production speed. If he recalls correctly, pickaxes are a terrible choice for mining Dust, seeing as how one wrong strike could set off a vein, collapsing the tunnel and killing anyone in it. Not that he cares about the people, but it would be a waste of money and time to have to restart a whole tunnel, let alone a whole mine because some fool thinks it's not worth it to provide basic security and equipment to his workers.
Whitley follows his father and the manager, whose name he didn't catch and couldn't care less about to be honest, as they walk inside for tea. Whitley would have preferred some coffee, but what can you do. The next hour is spent with the two men talking numbers. Whitley listens in a bit closer at this point, though more out of mounting boredom than actual interest.
As expected, the amount of Dust harvested relative to number of workers and hours put in is pitiful. There have also been no less than six accidents since the start of the financial year, which Whitley is sure could have been prevented. There have also been multiple protests made by the Faunus population over the low wages and dangerous conditions, not that the manager looks interested in listening to them. Whitley lays his head against an open palm and leans on his side of the couch provided to the Schnee men.
"Does this conversation bore you, Whitley?" Oh, he hadn't expected to be called out so quickly by Jacques.
"To put it bluntly, it does father. It's plain to see that there are several issues present that this man either refuses to see or refuses to act on, and his constant begging for our praise irritates me." The manager sputters in indignation but the two white haired men easily ignore it.
"Oh? So you believe that you could do better?" Whitley waves his free hand dismissively.
"I don't believe so, no. I know I can do much better." Whitley had already thought of at least six ways he could triple the profits from this place, and three of them would only take about two years to fully realise.
"Very well then. Please, elaborate on how you would improve upon this mine. Spare no detail." Whitley has to resist the urge to roll his eyes; he knows a test when he hears one.
"For starters, I'd raise the wages earned to just over what's generally considered the average wage. It would cut into the bottom line a little at first, but it would do wonders for our PR and would stop most if not all of those pesky protests and strikes that also bite into our sales. If we put the right spin on it, we could even market the move as a charity case, building reputation with both the Faunus and Faunus-supporters. Secondly, update the tools and add some safety equipment to the mine. Fewer accidents means people are more likely to come back to work, and the cost of constantly replacing workers and running damage control on accidents after the fact far outsripe the cost for ensuring that the accidents don't happen in the first place. It would also help sell the whole 'equality' thing, and bring in more willing workers and customers. That and it's just common sense that better tools for the workers means they work faster which increases how much we can sell. We could also raise the pricing of Dust crystals by 5% or so, citing the new measures as the reason despite our coffers easily being enough to handle the initial costs until they start returning dividends. Of course, raise the price too much and people will buy less, but raise it by too little and we will actually have to front the cost of the changes." the two elder men in the room sit in silence for a moment, before the manager starts to grind his teeth audibly and turn an interesting shade of red.
"You. You would dare tell me to raise the wages I pay those, those damn animals?! I should be praised for even giving those damn freaks jobs! Why should I care if one or two of them keel over while working, it's not like they're human! And why the hell should I bend over and let the fucking terrorists win?! Who the hell do you-!" the manager suddenly cuts off as the room drops twenty degrees in temperature.
Frost starts to slowly creep over the floor from under Whitley, where a large Glyph rests under his feet as he twiddles with a blue Dust crystal in his hand. The temperature continues to drop and the ice starts to creep up the managers pants, causing him to stutter and look between the two Scnhee men before landing on Whitley.
"Oh no don't mind me. Please, continue yelling and screaming at me. I'm sure that this won't have any negative side effects on your job security. After all, I'm just a kid. Oh, and I wouldn't suggest moving too much. See, I have trouble regulating exactly how cold I can make things with ice Dust. One little slip in my focus and, well, I'm sure you'd look great in a wheelchair. But please, go on with what you were saying." He looks desperately to Jacques, as if expecting him to help.
"I must say, this tea is quite delicious. I simply must know what brand you buy this from so I can purchase it for myself." Jacques takes another slow sip, deliberately ignoring the situation.
Needless to say, but the manager quickly fell docile and agreed that Whitleys words have some merit to them. He'd have to crunch the numbers with his accountants first, but he was sure that he could enact some basic reforms within a few weeks and enact the larger changes within two or three months depending on how much the wage increase drops the bottom line.
After that, he and Jacques apparently had something to discuss in private, so Whitley was allowed to wander the grounds provided he stick with a team of three Atlas soldiers that Jacques had hired for the day. Whitley gladly took the opportunity to stretch his legs.
Wandering through the main building itself was boring. White walls occasionally smudged with dirt as you get closer to the workers area, and the sounds of grunting and metal striking stone echo endlessly. It's only as Whitley decides to take his walk outside that things become interesting.
Just as he opens the door leading outside, a small faunus girl is pushing a cart full of coal and stones. Whitley is momentarily intrigued by this girl. About his age, white hair and a fluffy tail matted with dirt and mud, as well as ears on top of her head that look somewhat canine in shape - if whitley had to guess, he'd say she were some sort of wolf Faunus - her darkly tanned skin broken by several white scars crossing over her body with one particularly bad one stretching across her neck. Whitley would guess that it came from a mining accident and based on its size she's more than likely mute because of it.
This child is apparently exhausted, as they drop to their knees and don't get up. A SDC employee who stands nearby stomps on over and starts shouting at her to get back up. Whitely almost turns around and ignores the whole incident until the guard slams a baton onto the girls head, and Whitley happens to catch a glimpse of her eyes as she struggles to stand back up.
Hatred. Pure unadulterated hatred for both the figure in front of her, as well as Whitley, who happens to be in her line of sight. In fact, judging by the way her eyebrows narrow and she bares some elongated canines, he'd have to say that she hates him more than she hates the guard that just hit her.
"Now get back to your damn job by the count of three or you're gonna wish you died like the bitch you are!" the guard shouts out a countdown of three, but is ignored as the young Faunus ignores him to glare past him.
"Alright, you asked for it!" Raising his baton to smack it down on her again, he's about to put this girl in the infirmary as a lesson in obedience before a calm and aristocratic voice behind him stays his hand.
"Now now, there's no need for such crude violence." Twitching his eyebrows in irritation, the guard whirls around to yell at whoever just interrupted him, only for the words to get caught in his throat.
"M-m-m-mister Schnee? W-what can I do for you sir?" the young heir to the company that pays this guards paycheck ignores him and steps closer to the young girl who glares up at the white haired boy, locking her silver eyes with his sky blue.
"Well hello there. My name is Whitley Schnee. What is your name?" Whitley isn't surprised when she growls at him, the sound broken and guttural, no doubt due to her inability to actually answer his question.
"Well it's nice to meet you 'hrmm-hrrr'. Tell me, do you hate me?" her snarl becomes more pronounced, and she starts to dig her nails into the ground under her hands.
"I see. Tell me, what is someone like you doing in a place like this? Financial trouble? Did mommy and daddy send you here to pay some bills of theirs?" the growling gets worse and she actually lunges for him.
He easily sidesteps her clumsy and weak attack. As the guards that came with him and the SDC employee raise their weapons to 'defend' him, Whitley holds up a hand to stop them. They look between each other before shrugging and slowly lowering their arms.
"Did I touch a nerve? I'm going to guess that I was wrong about the debt thing. Let's see, your parents are nowhere to be seen, and you're obviously mute thanks to that rather large scar. Oh I know, did mommy and daddy die in a mining accident and now you're stuck here trying to make a living?" Whitley sidesteps another lunge, though he's pleased to note the tears now falling down the girls face before she falls to her knees in exhaustion.
"And there it is. So, I'm guessing that you hate the SDC for the death of your parents and therefore hate me despite not knowing the first thing about me. That's fine though. Hate is good. It fuels us to become stronger than the thing that we hate. Tell me, do you want to kill me?" she turns her head slightly, the tears in her eyes doing nothing to mask the raw rage and despair in them.
"Tell me, would you do anything to kill me?" She pauses, but gives a shaky nod, obviously confused on where he's going with this.
"Well, that settles it then! Guards, please escort this young girl to the nearest bathroom, and bring her some new clothes. She's going to want to look presentable for her new job. After she's changed, bring her to meet me at the bullhead." the guards all stand around confused.
"Uhmm, sir? If you don't mind me asking, what exactly are you talking about?" Whitley laughs slightly.
"Isn't it obvious? From this day onward, this young lady shall serve as my personal bodyguard. After all, if she truly wants to be the one to kill me, she'll have to make sure nobody else gets to me first."
"Excuse me for saying so sir, but isn't hiring someone who wants to kill you to protect you a bit counter intuitive. And, dare I say it, insane?" whitley chuckles again.
"You're lucky i'm not my father. He'd have you shot for that last remark. But no, I understand your point. I'm simply choosing to ignore it. Now I think that that's enough questions for today. You're paid to make sure I'm safe, not to question my decisions."
That last part is said with a certain glare in Whitleys eyes, promising that if they don't follow through with his demands then he's going to ensure they don't have a job come tomorrow morning. It's a look Jacques had perfected and would be proud to know that Whitley had learned to emulate.
As Whitley walks back to the bullhead, I idly wonders how he is going to explain the situation to his 'father'. To be honest with himself, Whitley had only done what he did because the little wolf girl had reminded him of someone from his past. A different mute wolf who also wanted him dead. Isn't it curious how history has a tendency to repeat itself?
Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil!