Several years later...
A dull humming filled the airship as it soared across Atlas, not as insulated as a commercial jet would be against the reverberations of its powerful Dust-core engines. Nor was it anywhere as smooth a ride as a civilian airship, for Ironwood's corvette had been designed with speed and maneuverability in mind. A little shaking wasn't worth fretting over.
Speaking of...
"Schnee," Ironwood called out, projecting his voice to be heard in the cabin. Winter, seated on the opposite side of the airship's small hangar from him, snapped her head upright in an instant. "You're fidgeting."
Winter's angry exhale was lost to the vibrating hull, but she sunk her nails into her skin, a flicker of irritation crossing her face as she did. Winter paced when she was stressed and duelled when she was offended. Fidgeting was somewhat out of character for her. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to distract you."
Ironwood waved away her apology, feeling almost silly himself for having mentioned it. "Don't worry," he said, trying to layer his words with reassurance. Ironwood paused for a long moment, watching the woman seated opposite him. "Are you sure you're okay with this, Schnee?"
Winter seemed to steel slightly at the question. "I should be asking you that, sir. I know that this is an imposition on you, sir, personally and professionally."
"Not that I am conceding the first, but that second point is definitely untrue, Schnee," Ironwood replied, his voice almost chiding, if in a professorial kind of way. "You're here because you're my aide-de-camp. Whatever anyone else might say, you wouldn't be here if you weren't exceptionally good at what you do."
Winter had no response to that, but she nodded gently, looking like she was trying to kindle a fire in her chest with his words as flint and steel.
The airship bobbed as it began its descent, dropping fast to make a harder target for any ne'er-do-wells hoping to take a shot at them from the ground. Nobody was seriously expecting anyone to try to shoot them down in mainland Atlas, but the change in leadership in the White Fang had everyone rattled, and there was an old saying about caution being preferable to rash bravery.
"It's a beautiful sunset," noted the General, glancing out the small porthole of a window he was afforded. And it most certainly was, Winter had to concede, strolling over to his side of the cabin to take it in, the mountains that served as the capital's backdrop, bathed in orange and amber. She had no complaints about the landscape, not really, except for the bit of real estate that happened to be rapidly becoming the foreground.
"There's no place like home," Winter muttered under her breath, so low that the General barely caught it. There was no missing the venom in her voice, though.
Ironwood hadn't the faintest clue how to respond to that, so the rest of their descent was passed in silence.
Schnee Manor had two helipads, but the General's airship was too large to be accommodated by either, so they had to settle for the lawn. Ironwood felt a distant twinge of guilt at the amount of landscaping that would no doubt be required to repair the mess of their dramatic entrance. But you didn't hold two seats on the Council without getting some allowances for style.
It shouldn't have surprised him that Jacques hadn't laid out the friendliest of welcome mats after their latest spat. Jacques might never let his personal quarrels with Ironwood impede the conduct of profitable business, but they certainly hadn't made the CEO any more pleasant to be around.
Even still, Ironwood was a little surprised when the welcome party greeting him at the base of the ramp consisted of two SDC security personnel and the Schnee's in-house counsel.
"Baum," greeted Ironwood, as he stepped out of the corvette, drawing up the lawyer's name from the dredges of his memory. Given the overlap of Atlas' strategic assets and the Schnees' personal property, they had interfaced on more than one occasion. "What a pleasant surprise."
Baum waved off the General's facade of friendliness, for which James was grateful. It'd have been something of a challenge to maintain for very long. "General Ironwood," welcomed Baum, with the clipped precision of a man used to quoting clauses. "You and your men are always welcome at Mr. Schnee's private residence." He thrust a packet of brightly-colored documents in Ironwood's direction. "But your assistant is most certainly not."
Baum's eyes met Winter's, the young woman having taken her time descending the ramp, moving with unusual hesitancy, as if traversing a minefield. Her expression was utterly blank as she stared into his eyes, her hands clasped behind her back in a soldier's posture. The hem of her long, snow-white coat fluttered gently in wind.
"Operative Schnee is not my assistant, Baum," corrected Ironwood, as he leafed through the documents. That was technically untrue, though Baum was no doubt using the word as a stand-in for 'secretary', which Winter most certainly was not.
"That's irrelevant," shot back Baum, irritation creeping into his voice. He'd never excelled at suppressing his own annoyance. As a lawyer it gave him the advantage of aggression. As a person it tended not to endear him much to others. "Winter is legally barred from this property, pursuant to court order."
Winter's steps were slow and deliberate, coming close enough to the General that she could see the documents in his hands. "What are they, sir?"
"It's a restraining order, Winter," said Ironwood, unable to keep the duress from his voice, her surname vanishing in the moment.
To his own surprise there was no horror on Winter's face, no shock or surprise or even all-too-available anger. All that passed was a glimmer of pain, a twitch of her cheeks like she'd been slapped, and a distant sorrow in her eyes.
Eyes that closed a moment later. "It says I've been emotionally abusive towards Weiss, doesn't it? That I inflicted psychological distress on her in our Scroll messages."
"How did you know?" asked James, before he could think of something more sensible to say.
Winter's eyes opened slowly. "It's… been a long time coming. Sir."
"We'll get it repealed," Ironwood promised, a mixture of shame and embarrassment filling him. "I knew Jacques was throwing a temper tantrum but I never thought he'd go so far as to…"
His sentence trailed off as he met Winter's eyes. They both knew that this was exactly something Jacques Schnee would do. Neither James nor Jacques could fully walk away from their relationship, not when the SDC and the military of Atlas maintained such symbiosis. Having Winter banished from her home and family was petty, but Jacques clearly saw no reason why a moment's vindictiveness should affect his relationship with Ironwood.
"Well then, Winter, if you would return to the General's airship until he is ready to depart, seeing as the issue is settled-"
"It's not," stated Winter, interjecting into a sentence Baum clearly hadn't been expecting to be interrupted.
"Winter?" Ironwood said, genuinely unsure of where she was going.
"Atlas Code of Military Law, section 21(a)(5), and the case of Coal v. Kingdom of Atlas. Atlas military personnel acting in an official capacity are exempt from civilian court orders unless the order has been affirmed by a military justice official." She stared into Baum's eyes. "And my father doesn't golf with any Army judges."
For a brief moment Baum looked like he was going to literally explode at Winter's exploitation of arcane case law. He kept his temper, but only just barely.
"Winter's not in uniform," Baum pointed out, "as fashionable as that white coat of hers is. I seem to recall something about soldiers needing to be properly uniformed for their, ah, extralegal privileges to apply."
His choice of words, to Winter's ear, was more than telling: 'I seem to recall'. Baum was not an omnidisciplinary lawyer, he specialized in matters of contract and administrative law, not military justice. Winter was halfway to calling him out on his desperate gambit when the General spoke. "In many cases you would be correct," Ironwood offered, "but as an officer in the Atlesian Special Operatives unit, Winter is entitled to wear whatever attire she deems suitable, even when on-duty."
"I've chosen an outfit that reflects two important aspects of my life," stated Winter, unsolicited, knowing Baum would relay every word to her Father. "Aristocracy and martiality. Thesis and antithesis, if you would. It took me more time than I cared for to effect a synthesis of those lives."
Baum and Ironwood stood still for several seconds, off-footed by Winter's exposition, both knowing that she was speaking more to Jacques, or even herself, than either of them. But it was Ironwood who collected his thoughts first. "If you have a complaint, I'd refer you to Karl de Klausewitz, ombudsman for civil-military relations. I've heard he's quite good."
"Expect to hear from our lawyers imminently, James," Baum practically spat, speaking with an unearned familiarity.
Only Winter's cool temper allowed Ironwood to keep his own. "I understand. But please remind Jacques that I do not consider it appropriate for him to meddle in my personnel decisions. Nor will this be viewed as a gesture of friendship."
Baum managed to bite back an angry retort, spinning on his heel and storming up the lawn back towards the manor. Had Baum not been such an unpleasant human being, Ironwood might even have felt sorry for him. Jacques Schnee, as had just been demonstrated, was not known to take setbacks magnanimously.
Ironwood toed the grass with a polished shoe, giving Baum a minute or two to get ahead of them. And to give them both time to collect themselves. "Thesis, antithesis, synthesis, Winter? Bit late to be trying for extra credit."
Winter offered him a weak smile. "Believe it or not, sir, I actually paid attention through that 'philosophical origins of competing theories of warfare' symposium you delivered. You have no one to blame but yourself."
"That's usually the case," the General agreed, with a hint of self-deprecating humor. "Well, at least you didn't get caught napping." He was hoping that got a reaction out of her, indignation or mirth, he could've worked with either …
Winter's expression didn't lift much, though. "I'm sorry it came to that, sir," said the Operative, managing to keep her voice from wavering. "Using military law to circumvent my father's will. That was the favor I needed."
Ironwood just shook his head, rubbing his face with a leather-gloved hand. "It's not a favor, Winter, you're here to do a job." A part of her job she could have found a thousand excuses to skip out on, of course, but neither needed to say that. "I'll make sure Jacques...Schnee… has that order rescinded. Once his temper cools he'll remember that you're more valuable working with him than against him." He offered her a pat on the shoulder, the intimacy of the gesture producing a small startle from the woman. "Don't worry about it, Winter."
"Thank you. Sir." Winter exhaled through her nostrils, and Ironwood let his hand fall from her shoulder. "Not to burden you further, but would you please call me Operative or just Schnee while we're here. I need to be…" she fumbled for words "...I need to be that woman right now. The one who attended Atlas Academy. Not my father's girl."
"Of course. Lead the way, Operative Schnee."
Winter Schnee did not, in fact, lead the way, if only because Baum intercepted them at the main foyer and insisted on escorting the two of them all the way to the door of her father's office. He no doubt would have liked to follow Ironwood inside, but Winter knew her father had no particular fondness for Baum, and the lawyer was usually brought in only after the important conversations had happened.
The three came to a halt outside the door, all equally uncertain as to how best to proceed.
"Will you be requiring my assistance in the study, sir?" The words came out more awkwardly than Winter had intended, trying to layer in meaning within earshot of a lawyer who'd known her since infancy. She didn't think she'd succeeded.
Ironwood looked her over with that cool eye of a tactician officer. "No, Operative Schnee. Actually," he paused, casting a glance at Baum, "I'd like you to inspect the premises."
"Sir?" Winter was the only one who spoke, but she and Baum looked equally askance.
"For bombs, Operative," Ironwood clarified. "Both myself and Mister Schnee are prime targets for Faunus terrorists, and we should make use of your skillset to mitigate any risk. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Baum?"
The lawyer squirmed a little. "Mister Schnee would never consent to what is clearly an excuse to search his private residence. Without even the pretense of a warrant-"
The General held his hand up. "And if I was a police officer, sir, you would have grounds for complaint. Operative Schnee and myself are here in our official capacities as soldiers of the Kingdom's Army. As my bodyguard previously established," Winter raised an eyebrow at Ironwood's choice of nouns, "we are not here as private citizens."
"If it soothes your nerves, Baum, nothing I stumble across would be admissible in a court of law. As you said, I have no warrant." Winter felt something unpleasant settling in her stomach, but she suppressed the sensation. While her actions would have had any privacy rights advocate blue in the face, the fact was that Atlas gave its military far more legal leeway than any of the other Kingdoms. Citizens were expected to defer to the wills of soldiers, not the other way around. Winter had no illusions that it was a particularly just way of running a society, but it was one her father had supported all his life, due in no small part to the SDC's more-than-cozy relationship with the Army. There was something vaguely cathartic about using the Kingdom's own laws against him. A horrible precedent, to be sure, but such were not the thoughts of soldiers on a warpath.
"I'll check back with you soon, sir," promised Winter. And with a nod she was off.
The facade lasted all of five minutes.
Winter had indeed made a show of wandering about what had once been her Manor, checking ventilation traps and plumbing and all the nooks and crannies a bomb might be hidden. It was a theater of the absurd, to be sure, given that the Manor employed a security force comparable in size to certain Army units. Baum trailed dutifully behind her the whole time, seemingly weary of getting too close to her, as if she might lash out and bite him if he startled her. Winter didn't particularly mind discomforting the man if it bought her a bit more personal space.
It made her little escape possible, after all.
One moment, she was checking under a decorative table, as if the White Fang could've strapped a Dust bomb to the underside of it when nobody was looking. Then she rounded a corner, and by the time Baum followed her into the next room, the Operative had vanished…
"...Thank you, Klein," murmured Winter, as she squeezed past the family butler. There were so many hidden passageways in the Manor she'd almost forgotten where they all snaked and exited, but Klein had managed to pluck her amidst her wanderings all the same.
"Not at all, Miss Schnee," Klein replied, dusting a few cobwebs from his vest. "Though I've heard it's Operative Schnee now, is it not?"
"Winter has always been fine," the Operative answered, planting one foot carefully in front of the other. She knew the request was an exercise in futility, but she hadn't had the chance to make it in quite some time.
"Of course, my lady," answered Klein, confirming her suspicions. "I must say your sister hasn't quite been herself since your… disownment." He gestured with his fingers, directing Winter to an even-narrower passageway. "She's shut herself up in her room whenever there aren't demands on her time."
"Is that where she is now, then?" asked Winter, trying to position herself within the Manor. Even for her it wasn't an easy task - the maze of hidden passageways had been designed to be intentionally winding and circuitous.
"I would believe so, Miss Schnee. Second nook on your left."
Winter found the little alcove Klein had indicated, groping clumsily about for the small lever which would swing the wall panel open. Winter blinked rapidly as her eyes adjust to the bright lights of the hallway, realizing all-too-belatedly that she was face-to-face with one of countless maids tasked with both keeping the Manor tidy and providing eye candy for her father. The young woman looked positively aghast at Winter's sudden appearance - she might not even have known the secret passageways existed - but Winter greeted her with nothing more than a curt nod, taking pains to keep her hand from coming to a reflexive rest on her sword's hilt.
Klein followed Winter out of the passage and began speaking to the young maid in hushed tones. Given her father's rather fearsome demands of loyalty from his staff Winter couldn't honestly blame the woman if she went scurrying off to security. She just hoped Klein could buy her a few minutes, if nothing else.
Setting aside thoughts of compromise, Winter made her way to the door before her, a door she had opened far too rarely in her childhood. She drew to a halt, hesitated for a fraction of a moment, then rasped her knuckles against the thick wooden paneling.
It was a long, long wait for the sound of footsteps from the other side.
And then the door was opened all-too-suddenly. "Winter," Weiss breathed, as if she was an apparition from a fairy tale. "You came back…"
There was some wrenching about those words, in a way Winter had not in the least prepared for. "I was able to drop in while the General has business with father," Winter explained, trying to convey the circumstances of her return without bringing her sister crashing down. Judging by Weiss' bodily reaction, it was only a partial success.
The silver lining was that the darkening of Weiss' expression was reserved for someone other than Winter herself. "That restraining order is a travesty of the law, Winter," Weiss growled, though she still spoke with a precision that belied her youth. Like Winter, Weiss seemed to be going through adolescence wishing everyone would treat her like the adult she acted like.
"It's not your fault, Weiss," Winter reassured her, stepping across the threshold as she did. The door swung shut behind her, sealing them in a bedroom that to Winter had always been too spacious and too sparse for a child like Weiss.
Weiss said nothing, just seated herself on the edge of her four-poster bed. Winter knew that Weiss was almost helpless in a situation like this. As in so many other things, the Kingdom of Atlas was not renowned for the progressiveness of its children's rights laws. Legally speaking, Weiss was scarcely more than her father's chattel. She had no right to dispute his claims that Winter had emotionally tormented her.
"I heard your latest performance, Weiss," said Winter. "It was… more than adequate." Later that night she'd kick herself for the damnation of faint praise, but the rare compliment was enough to lift Weiss' mood, however little.
"Thank you, Winter," Weiss answered, with almost rote formality. "You wouldn't believe how many hours I spent rehearsing it." Her smile, plastered reflexively onto her face, faltered a little. "So you really can't stay?"
Winter let out a deep, weary sigh, and seated herself next to Weiss on the bed. She should have known better than to try to dance around the issue with small-talk. She'd come here for a reason, after all, as much as she didn't want to get around to it.
"I'm going to be honest with you, Weiss," Winter began, choosing her words as carefully as her overtaxed mind could. "You might not like it, but you deserve to hear things without someone sugarcoating it for you."
Winter told herself she was treating Weiss like an adult, giving her little sister the respect she expected. Some part of Winter's brain told her that she was just doing it because Weiss was marginally less likely to hate her by the end of it this way. So no points for selflessness.
"I could come back. I could stay here, patch things up with Father, make amends, take a position with the Company. It's probably not too late for that." Winter stared at her boots, not daring to see her sister's face. "But I'm not going to."
To her credit, Weiss didn't scream or shout or pout, didn't cry like a petulant child or whine like a spoiled tween. She was just silent, exhaling those stuttered snorts of someone told bad news they'd known was a long time coming. "Can you tell me why, Winter? Do you hate it here that much?"
Winter shook her head. "No, Weiss, not at all." She managed to face her sister again, one hand gently brushing Weiss' cheek, and a few strands of snow-white hair in the process. "It's not that. It's just…" she fumbled for words. "I am very good at what I do."
Weiss raised an eyebrow. "I don't think anyone's ever accused you of modesty, Winter."
Winter smiled and blushed in equal measure, at the joke that showed Weiss wasn't devastated beyond words. "No…. they haven't." She paused. "General Ironwood is fast-tracking my application for Specialist training. Should I qualify, I'll be the youngest Specialist in over twenty years."
Weiss' expression made it clear that she wasn't particularly impressed by the boast, but she nodded along all the same. "And if I'm certified, Weiss, I have a chance to help a great many people. Much like a Huntress would." That got a bit more of a reaction out of Weiss - she'd always been the bigger sucker for those classical tales of heroism than Winter had been growing up.
"So that is it, then, Winter?" Weiss asked, as if trying to get a story straight. "You think this is what you'll be best at?"
"Yes," answered Winter. "I'll be a better fighter than Company executive, at any rate." And then her fingers dug into the palm of her hand. "But if I'm being honest with myself" - and why is that so damn hard to do "-it's what I want." Weiss seemed to blink at the words. After a moment, Winter did, too, but she barreled on regardless. "I want to be a Specialist. I like the work. I like the challenge. I even like the lifestyle. I hope that it's the best use of my time on Remnant. But it's a little selfish, too."
Weiss rubbed her arms, staring downcast at the floorboards. "I think I understand," she finally got out, her throat sounding tight. "I hope it makes you happy, Winter. You deserve that much."
"As do you, my dearest sister," replied Winter, hopping off the bed so she could face Weiss head-on, planting a hand on either shoulder. "You must believe that, whatever father might want for you."
Weiss offered a weak smile. "Well, when I need someone to talk to, I'll still have the mirror on the wall."
Some part of Winter felt like throwing up. "Weiss…" Her fingers dug into Weiss' shoulders, enough to make her sister flinch minutely. "We'll get the restraining order overturned. The General knows it's a done deal, just a matter of paperwork. I'll be on my Scroll whenever you need to talk to someone."
"Of course, Winter," answered Weiss. And despite her youth, her expression was so controlled that it was a total cipher to the Operative. "I never believed otherwise."
"Dare I ask if you accomplished your secondary objectives?" Ironwood inquired, with a levity Winter wasn't quite feeling at the moment.
"I met with my sister," Winter confirmed, keeping her voice low. There was no one nearby, but she knew how sounds could carry in this house. "We talked."
"Ah." Ironwood's voice made it clear that he did not exactly consider himself an expert on matters of sororal bonds.
"It is… possible that I fucked up." Winter was so distraught that even cursing in front of her commanding officer didn't cause her to blush.
"I very much doubt that, Operative," Ironwood reassured her, though it was more bravado than he was willing to admit. It wasn't like his family relationships were anything to brag about...
They made their way to a grandiloquent hall where Jacques had insisted on sending them off. Not out of any personal warmth - the conversation with the General hadn't exactly been amicable - but Jacques was having guests over. And there were few ways to boast like sending off a General and Councilor with a friendly pat on the back.
Ironwood picked an arbitrary spot in the hall, before a statue of a King Taijitu, staring at it absently while Winter drew to a parade rest behind him. Jacques kept them waiting a good five minutes before deigning to arrive himself, providing ample time for the occupants at the other end of the hall to gawk. Winter idly wondered if her Father wanted her rebellion to be a well-documented matter of public record, if he thought that there was little hope of making amends.
"Well, James, it's been nice catching up with you," said Jacques, slapping the General on the back like they were still old friends and not allies of necessity. Ironwood offered a small smile in return, and a curt shake of the hand. "I'll let you know what we want done with those Grimm in the northeast."
Winter had to bite her tongue to keep from lashing out. As if a man as petty as her Father had a right to task a General. But Ironwood kept his expression stoically expressionless, knowing it was all just theater for Jacques' guests. He had to save his energy for the real battles; survive a Grimm horde or three and all the politicking was just so much flotsam.
"And I would like to offer my thanks for the gracious assistance you have offered my Father." Winter's head snapped 'round to find her sister, halfway through the dip of a curtsey. Of course she'd chosen the words that would irk Father more than any bout of teenage cursing.
Ironwood cleared his throat, then took a moment to take in Weiss, eyes sweeping over her like she was an unfamiliar battlefield. "Not at all, Miss Schnee," the General finally replied, his voice that low and charismatic rumble. "It's my duty as a General to safeguard the people of Atlas." He paused, an expression of uncertainty flashing over his face for the faintest length of time. "A duty that is also your sister's."
Winter's right foot squeaked a little against the marble floor, even if she'd seen the lifeline being thrown her way from a mile out. Unfortunately, she had no doubt that Weiss would recognize it as well, and reach the not-unreasonable conclusion that Winter had asked the General to help patch their relationship up.
The four of them stood in silence for several long seconds. "Well, Jacques, I really must be off," said Ironwood, making an exit about as graceful as if he'd returned a girl from a date past curfew. "I have an airship parked on your lawn, after all."
"Don't work, I'll be sending you a bill for it," replied Jacques, with no hint that he was joking. Ironwood offered a grimace and spun around, strolling off towards their airship. Winter hesitated for just a moment, locking eyes with her Father and her sister, offering the same expression of determination to each. And then she followed the General out.
She caught up to Ironwood a dozen strides out the main door. "Thank you, sir. Though I must say I'm glad that's over."
"I know right now you might look at your family situation and see nothing but burnt bridges and salted earth," Ironwood said, speaking in the reassuring tones of a mentor, "but it will get better. Your Father has many flaws in his character, but he won't let his pride get in the way of a working relationship with the Atlesian military. And your sister-"
"-Weiss is going to hate me more than Whitney," Winter groaned, rubbing her face with a gloved hand. Some part of her brain noted that she wasn't exactly heartbroken at having avoided running into her brother, while another part just couldn't be bothered to care.
"Your sister is going to be fine, Operative," replied Ironwood, still in that mentor's cadence of his. "As will your relationship."
Winter cocked her head in a gesture of mild disbelief. "That's a… very confident claim, sir. Our relationship is a little… complicated."
Ironwood smiled a little to himself. "You forget, Operative, I didn't make it to 'General' by being a poor judge of conflicts."
"Of course not, sir," Winter hastily replied, though she managed to slip a note of levity into the formality. "I must say I envy your coup d'œil."
The General shrugged at that. He wasn't even entirely sure if there was such a thing, but he didn't feel like quibbling over it. The two of them boarded the airship in silence.
"Where to, sir?" asked the pilot, fingers flying over the cockpit with the unthinking ease of countless hours of experience.
Ironwood looked Winter in the eye for a moment, before turning his attention to the pilot. "Take us home, Captain. Headquarters, landing zone West-4. And you're not getting paid by the hour."
The pilot laughed over the intercom, a static-choked chortle that brought a smile to Winter's lips despite herself. Within a minute they were airborne, the thrust of acceleration pushing Winter into her seat.
She closed her eyes, not needing to look out the window as Schnee Manor receded into the night behind her.
CODA
Weiss Schnee shut the door to her bedroom behind her, as gently as she could manage with a thing of such weight. It wouldn't do to arouse the attention of her father, not after the monologue of epic proportions he had subjected her and Whitley to after his guests were shown the door. On her own her Father was bearable, but her brother had a tendency of egging him on, his boyish aggression finding an outlet clinging-on to the tirades of his father.
Weiss exhaled.
Composing herself, the young woman set about doing what she'd set her mind on, actualizing a flight of fancy that had been refusing to dissipate into her unconscious. Strolling over to her trunk, Weiss flipped the wrought-iron latch and began unpacking its contents. So many trinkets unthinkingly accumulated, boxes of jewelry worn once and then tucked away, forgotten.
There. With a slight groan Weiss tugged the box from the bottommost level of the trunk, buried like some forgotten treasure beneath layers of dirt. She placed the box down on her bed, doing her best not to get any dust on anything, and knowing it was hopeless. She paused for a moment, trying to remember the exact combination required to unseal the damn thing, but her fingers were spinning before the numbers were in her head, muscle memory supplanting actual memory.
The sword was in her hands before she could think. Myrtenaster. An SDC prototype which had never seen the light of day. A sword which made its way to her hands more through fluke and negligence then any real forethought from her parents. Something she'd thought of as a weapon, then as a trophy, then as a toy, then thought nothing of it at all.
Seeing the sword at Winter's hip had…. Well, it was such a waste to leave something like Myrtenaster at the bottom of a trunk, wasn't it?
Weiss' Scroll was in her hand. "Klein?"
"Yes, Miss Schnee?" her butler answered, after little more than second's delay.
"Do we still have the training automatons in the West Wing?"
The line was dead for several long seconds. "I believe so, Miss Schnee. Shall I see if they are still in proper working order?"
"I would greatly appreciate it if you would," Weiss answered, before signing off.
Something warm blossomed inside of her when she realized Klein had had no need to ask as to why.
[A/N: If you're reading this c. December 2017, please consider swinging by r/rwby and casting a vote for it in the 2017 Fanfiction contest]